“Is this a memory?” I asked, reaching out to touch the pane of glass.
 
 Jon came to stand behind me, gazing out at the mountains—actual mountains—alongsideribboning rivers and churning waterfalls that cut through glittering quartz. Endless blankets of fir trees stretched out to the horizon. I could practically smell the sharp tinge to the air when I breathed in.
 
 “No. This is where I’m going to take you someday,” he said. “A place we can call our own.”
 
 He conjured this from nothing?I thought, reeling at the notion.
 
 “You can’t keep that promise,” I murmured.
 
 “I can make a choice,” he said. “I chooseyou. I will not be a victim anymore. Neither of us have to.”
 
 My heart lodged in my throat. I knew enough to treasure how a man who only knew violence would lay down his weapons to become something softer. He was choosing me, choosing this life, over a hunter’s end.
 
 Even if I was the biggest gamble he’d ever taken. Even if—
 
 “We’ll find another gemstone,” Jon pressed, as though he could read the crushing emotion on my face.
 
 My throat closed.That gemstone.I could still feel the fervent ghost of it, calling to me, making my blood turn electric. It had been full and perfect—raw power cradled in my arms. Lost forever to the hostile forest.
 
 My stomach turned further as I remembered what I had done to have it in reach at all.
 
 “I almost lost you both,” I croaked, running a hand over my face.
 
 “They tricked you,” Jon cut in firmly.
 
 I shook my head even as I indulged his comforting kiss to the crown of my head. He didn’t fully understand how in those moments, nothing else had mattered but that beckoning power.Nothing.And that wasn’t anything Marcellus had forced on me. That desire was all me.
 
 “I can’t be so careless next time. I won’t have you spill more blood for me.” I sniffed, peering at the room around us. A place Jon had built for us. A place I may only ever carry here, where things were only halfway real.
 
 “I might keep you waiting a while,” I said, shooting him a doleful expression.
 
 Jon swept a lock of my hair behind my ear and gently thumbed my traitor mark. “It’ll always be you. Wherever I am. Together or apart. So I’ll take whatever time I get with you, no matter how it ends.”
 
 The thread between us seemed to shiver at his words. I no longer wondered if he felt it, too.
 
 “That’s a terribly tragic thing to say, you know that?” I said.
 
 Jon’s smile widened. “I’ve had more than my share of tragedy, and trust me, it’s never felt this good.”
 
 His kiss was softer when he tugged me back into his embrace. I leaned into him, sinking into the safety of his arms. Here, where we ruled over our own little world, where time stretched and we felt like we could live on forever. We could exist precisely as we wanted with no prying eyes to make us doubt ourselves. Injuries were outlawed, and hope overshadowed dread.
 
 But as I blinked my eyes open and saw blood trickling from Jon’s nose, I couldn’t help but feel that the two of us were barreling toward heartbreak with our eyes wide open.
 
 27
 
 Jon
 
 “Where do you want me to put this?” I asked Gwen, hefting a heavy box of books in my arms.
 
 The living room, once warm and cluttered, was nearly empty now. Much of the furniture was gone, and the walls were stripped bare, colorful paintings stacked in the corner by the window. The whole upper floor felt hollow. Even the cats and dogs paced from room to room like they could sense something wasn’t right.
 
 I couldn’t shake the guilt. Gwen and Hannah wouldn’t be uprooting themselves if we hadn’t pulled them into our mess. Helping them pack a few boxes was the least we could do.
 
 “Just stack it on top of the others,” Gwen said in a low, tired voice. Her raven hair was braided over one shoulder, the strands loose from harried movement all morning.
 
 Cliff walked past, bearing a box haphazardly packed full of DVDs from the bedroom. He dropped it unceremoniously over mine, then fished out a title that had been resting on top.
 
 “Casablanca? Really?” He raised his eyebrows, waggling the black-and-white case. “Ten bucks says you’ve never touched this since you bought it.”