Realization pierced the soft haze around her. She’d wanted him so badly that her mind had produced him, a cruel joke for a woman who still had choices but couldn’t make the one she wanted most of all—to choose Dom.
Walther grabbed her hair, jerking her to a standing position so she was in front of him, a gun pressed to her temple. The imaginary Dom hesitated, his finger on the trigger of the gun in his hand. Her pulse barely registered an uptick. Still, seeing him and it not being him was more than she could bear. She didn’t bother to hold back the tears. What did it matter? She’d lost everything when she’d lost Dom.
“Put the fucking gun down or I’ll kill her,” Walther said.
Both imaginary Dom and the stranger with him squatted slowly and put their guns on the floor.
“You’re out of options, Henriksen,” imaginary Dom said as he stood back up. “We’ve already rounded up the other Fjende leaders. Put the gun down, and you’ll walk away alive.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Walther said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stay right where you are, and in about ten seconds my men will be here and you’ll be swinging from a rope by sunset.”
“Elle,” imaginary Dom said, his voice like a salve to her wounds. “Look at me.”
She didn’t have the strength not to pretend it was the real Dom, so she did. “I love you.”
He smiled, but there was sadness in it. “Drop.”
She didn’t hesitate. She fell back on what she’d learned during their training sessions and let her knees go loose. In the same instant, a silver knife whistled over her head. A wild scream echoed in the room, and Walther fell the ground, the gun limp in his hand. The knife buried to the hilt in what used to be his right eye. The imaginary Dom rushed over, kicked the gun away, and gathered her in his arms and carried her to the other side of the room. Not letting go of her, he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Men dressed in fatigues stormed into the room, guns at the ready.
“Call the doctor. I don’t know what they gave her, but she’s out of it,” imaginary Dom told them.
They gave her a few quick glances but followed orders, leaving her alone with the man who couldn’t be here. God, he smelled like the real thing. He felt like the real thing. If she’d had even a few more drops of that drug, she would have believed he was the real thing. She buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him as if she could force a ghost to stay. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” He brushed a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, his actions a soft kindness in comparison to the hard hurt of his words. Then he settled her down on the bed, laying her head on the pillow with utmost gentleness, his blue eyes shiny. “I can’t be your future, so I have to be your past.”
“I love you.” It came
out as a quiet whimper as the agony of losing him again ripped through the gossamer, drugged haze around her, leaving her shredded and miserable. “Don’t leave me alone again.”
He leaned down and took her face in his hands. His lips brushed against hers, a mere hint at the emotion swamping them both. The kiss wasn’t a promise; it was a good-bye.
…
Mission accomplished. Now he needed to get the hell out of here before he couldn’t. One foot in front of the other. It was Dom’s turn to run. He pushed against the flow of people rushing toward the king’s chamber, including a doctor carrying a black bag. He tapped the comm unit in his ear. “Status report.”
“I’m on my way to the queen’s chamber now,” said Major Bendtsen. “The Fjende leaders are either in custody or dead.”
“Alton?” He hurried down the stairs and toward the back entrance.
“Dead,” the major said.
With the leadership decimated, the Fjende would crumble into dust. He’d make sure of it. They’d never threaten Elle again. “The media?”
“We’re going to spin it as a failed assassination attempt on the princess prior to the Kronig. No one has any idea she’s ever been gone.”
“Good. I’ll need you to make sure it stays that way.” Simple and close enough to the truth to make the lie authentic. The major had chosen the cover story well, but his job wasn’t done. Not even close. “She’s going to need you, Major. Be the adviser she can count on. We stick to the original plan. I disappear, and you act as the queen’s right hand as long as she needs you.”
He stepped out the door and into the bright sunlight. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky anymore. It was as if even Mother Nature was glad Elle was home.
“Sir, where are you going?”
“I’ll find out when I get there.” It would be a place where he could keep an eye on Elle and finish the job of putting the Fjende completely out of commission. He had to leave, but she’d never be alone again, not really. “Radio the pilot at the airfield and let him know to be ready to take off.”
Dom crossed the lot to the black sedan he’d driven in from the airport, opened the door, and slid behind the wheel.
“You’re not staying for the Kronig?” the major asked. “It’s all you’ve cared about for the past ten years.”