Forcing down the urge to tear into the present, I carefully unwrapped the box. The paper alone was a gift—thick and luxurious, the roses as soft as velvet—and I wanted to save it.
As butterflies swirled in my stomach, I opened the box and reached inside, pulling out a small white notecard written in the most elegant handwriting I’d ever seen:
A promise of more to come…
Love, D
Beneath the card sat a small but heavy object wrapped in tissue. I took it out of the box and removed the wrapping, revealing a crystal snow globe no larger than a plum. It looked handmade; the scene inside was intricately crafted and painted, the whole of Manhattan miniaturized in a perfect likeness. When I shook it, tiny white and silver snowflakes swirled, capturing the city in a glittering storm.
It was mesmerizing. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
Tears blurred my vision. Not just from the thoughtful gift and the sweet note and the giddy excitement that filled me when I imagined traveling to New York with Darius one day, but because the gift meant he’d returned safe from his trip. It meant that he was here, right now, under this very roof.
I didn’t care if it was the middle of the day and he was sound asleep. No one could stop me from slipping into the basement and climbing into his bed, wrapping him in my arms, and covering him with happy, tear-stained kisses.
I brushed my teeth and twisted my hair into a messy bun, then headed out into the kitchen, practically bouncing on my toes.
I was so happy Darius was home safe that not even Asher’s ever-present scowling could ruin my mood or steal the smile from my face.
“Good morning,” I said, beaming. “Would anyone like fresh coffee? I’m about to make a—”
The rest of the words died on my tongue when I saw their grim faces, the three of them standing around the center island, staring at me.
Concern lingered in their eyes.
“What happened?” I breathed, pressing a hand to my heart. “Is Darius…?”
“He’s fine,” Ronan assured me, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. He nodded toward the door that led down to the Darius’s room in the basement. “He’s waiting for us.”
“He’s awake?” I asked.
“Hasn’t slept since he got back.”
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” I said. “You’re freaking me out.”
“It’s better if we show you,querida,” Emilio said.
“Let’s go.” Ronan reached for my hand, but instead of squeezing it like I expected, he pressed a hawthorn stake to my palm, folding my fingers tight around it. “Darius wants us all down there when she wakes up.”
Twenty-Four
GRAY
Holding a stake of his own, Darius was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his jaw clenched tight, his normally immaculate wavy hair untamed. He smiled when he saw me, his eyes sparking for the briefest instant, unleashing a curl of fire in my chest.
But our happy reunion would have to wait.
“There’s someone you need to see,” he said, cupping a hand around the back of my neck and gently steering me into the main room of the basement.
It was set up like a family room, with thick beige wall-to-wall carpets, two black leather sofas, and a big flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, currently tuned to an Alaskan survival show on mute.
At the other end of the room was a dry bar and four cocktail chairs. Chained to one of them was a woman with long, straight, chestnut-colored hair, wearing an ankle-length black dress, a threadbare cardigan, and one sneaker.
Her skin looked ashy in the flickering blue light of the television, but I recognized her immediately.
“Fiona Brentwood?” I whispered. Apparently, the snow globe wasn’t the only gift he’d brought back.
He’d also picked up a time machine.
