Page 216 of Black Reign

The lower lip I've watched disappear beneath her teeth in a photograph I've looked at more times than I will ever admit.

Vesper.

Real.

She exists.

For one impossible fraction of a second, the armed man holding her becomes irrelevant.

There is only her.

Then training comes back.

Everything happens quickly.

My team moves.

The weapon goes away from her.

The man goes down.

Someone takes her by the arm to pull her clear.

She twists instinctively, fighting whoever touches her.

“Sabine.”

Her name leaves my mouth before I decide to say it.

She freezes.

Those impossible eyes turn toward me.

I know.

There is no question anymore.

Adrien Beaumont.

Sabine Beaumont.

Vesper.

All one woman.

And despite blood on her mouth, bruising beginning along her jaw, wrists torn raw from restraints, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Not because she's beautiful.

She is.

Painfully.

But because she's real.

Years of words suddenly have a body.

A face.