Chapter 1

On the first weekend after I stopped my medication for severe depression, my boyfriend, Alden Barnes, sent me a campsite location.

"Naomi, you're the sun it took me five years to pull out of the abyss."

"Come to the mountain campsite tonight. I've prepared something romantic for you, a whole sky full of stars."

Backpack on, heart full of hope, I pushed open the door of the little cabin.

Instead, three unleashed bully dogs lunged straight at me, pinning me into a corner and tearing wildly at the hem of my dress.

"Run! Aren't you so good at enduring things? Endure this too—you're just playing with the dogs!"

I screamed for my life, grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and sprayed like mad, then half-rolled, half-crawled out the window.

By the campfire outside, Olive Sanchez, the sister Alden had taken in, stood holding a drone remote, laughing so hard she couldn't straighten up.

"You're his wife—I posted on the local forum that you'd been trash-talking the dogfighting ring, and it took forever to borrow these prize dogs. Exciting, right?"

Covered in blood, I looked over at my boyfriend, who was grilling meat off to the side.

He just rolled his eyes, unbothered.

"Don't look at me like that. I only lost a round of truth or dare. Everybody wanted a reaction shot of you scared out of your mind."

"You didn't get bitten to death, did you? Naomi, is your depression acting up again? Can't you take a joke?"

I looked at the teeth marks on my leg, and I finally understood: this salvation I'd believed was the light had, from the very start, been a one-way road straight to hell.

...

I clamped a hand over my bleeding calf and pulled out my phone to call 911.

My fingertips shook so hard from fear and blood loss that the screen wouldn't unlock, again and again.

A long, powerful hand suddenly reached over and snatched the phone away.

I looked up, stunned.

Alden glanced expressionlessly at the "911" lit up on the screen, then flicked his wrist.

The phone traced an arc and dropped precisely into the campfire blazing not far away.

A crackle, and the flames swallowed my cry for help in an instant.

"Naomi."

He looked down at me, brow tight, his voice full of a lecture that left no room for argument.

"You went behind my back and quietly stopped your antidepressants. I haven't even dealt with that yet."

"And now your moods have gotten this unstable, and your persecution delusions are getting worse."

I pointed at the bite marks on my leg, deep enough to show bone, and stared at him in disbelief.

"Alden, I'm bleeding! They're real dogs—they really bit me!"

He gave my wound a glance. No sympathy in his eyes, just a trace of impatience.

"A few dogs were just messing around with you. Olive already told you they've had their shots and their nails are trimmed."

"Are you only happy once you've blown this up into a police report and ruined Olive?"

Olive. Olive Sanchez.

The sister he'd taken in.

Right then, that "sister" twisted her ankle and fell delicately into Alden's arms, whimpering in pain.

"Alden, I think I twisted my ankle, it hurts so much..."

The impatience on Alden's face vanished, replaced instantly by worry.

He swept Olive up in his arms and strode toward the black SUV parked a short distance away.

I dragged my injured leg and limped after them.

"Alden, take me to a hospital!"

I reached for the passenger door, but he was faster.

The locks clicked shut.

Through the dark window, I saw his cold profile.

"Naomi, you're too worked up right now. You need to calm down."

"Walk down the mountain yourself. Think of it as desensitization therapy—it'll be good for your condition."

I stood there, frozen, watching the SUV tear away into the distance.

The rising dust mixed with the night chill, smearing the blood and tears across my face.

Around me, the dozen-odd hangers-on who had been egging it on and enjoying the show all scattered like startled animals.

The campfire slowly died down, and I was left alone in the camp.

The mountain wind poured in from every direction, carrying a bone-deep cold.

Somewhere far off came the faint howling of wolves.

Fear closed over me completely.

I didn't dare stop. Running on nothing but the instinct to survive, I dragged my nearly numb leg and crawled painfully along the pitch-black mountain road.

All night long.

Gravel and thorns left countless fresh wounds on me.

My mind slipped back and forth between clear and blurred.

Just when I thought I really was going to die on that desolate mountain, a blinding headlight lit up my face.

A farm truck heading up the mountain at dawn to pick up a load stopped in front of me.

The driver was startled by the sight of me covered in blood. He quickly helped me into the cab and took me to the nearest town clinic at the foot of the mountain.

The clinic was in bad shape, the paint on the walls gone yellow.

The doctor was an older man. He peeled back my blood-soaked trouser leg and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Young lady, this wound's already gone septic. Half an hour later, and we'd have had to amputate the leg!"

I lay on the battered clinic bed, an IV running, my mind completely blank.

The old TV mounted on the wall was playing the morning news.

The anchor's sweet voice echoed through the little room.

"...We're told that Alden Barnes, heir to one of the city's most prominent families, spent millions last night to win a smile from the woman he adores, booking out the entire Starlight Amusement Park for a custom fireworks show that lasted a full hour..."

On the screen, Alden was gently setting a dazzling diamond crown on Olive's head.

Olive was smiling like a princess.

And I was a complete and utter joke.

I didn't cry. Calmly, I borrowed a phone from the woman in the next bed and called my attending physician.

I needed my medication. I needed to confirm my treatment plan.

The call connected.

The doctor's tired, faintly apologetic voice came through the receiver—and those words dropped me straight into an icy pit.