EMBER’S POV

I see him almost too clearly. That same aristocratic stance, that same unimpressed authority, like he’s bored by the bloodshed below. He raises his hand, fingers poised to give a signal.

My hand slams the horn before I can think. The sound blares through the night and Knox’s head snaps toward the car.

He sees me through the windshield. Frowns. Then he turns back to the fight, back to the guards he’s still dealing with, and my stomach drops because he doesn’t understand.

He glanced but he didn’t see them. He thinks I’m just panicking.

He’s going to die and he doesn’t even know it.

Harrison’s hand drops....