KNOX’S POV

The words come out wrong. Too low, too calm, like they’re coming from somewhere else, somewhere deep inside me that I’ve spent my whole life keeping locked away.

“Knox.” Nathaniel’s voice goes careful. “Your eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They’re not changing back. They’re staying gold.”

I don’t care about my eyes. I don’t care about anything except the woman in my arms and the old man on the ridge who did this to her.

Harrison fucking Crawford.

I stand up and I look at him across the battlefield.

He’s still there on that ridge, watching with that aristocratic indifference, and when our eyes meet something passes between us....