Stewart knelt down in front of Briony, meeting her bewildered gaze.


    He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a key, unlocking the shackle around her ankle.


    The metal chain ttered to the floor.


    Briony frowned.


    Rising to his feet, Stewart looked down at her, a gentle smile flickering in his dark eyes. "You''re free to leave now."


    Briony stared at him, hesitation written all over her face.


    Stewart said nothing.


    Tentatively, she took a step forward.


    He didn''t move to stop her.


    She drew in a shaky breath, then broke into a run.


    Pain shot up from her ankle-sharp, relentless—but she ignored it, seized the doorknob, and flung the door open-


    And froze.


    This wasn''t Southcreek Manor.


    She took in the long, unfamiliar hallway, dread pooling in her stomach.


    No. No, it couldn''t be.


    Briony forced herself onward, limping down the endless corridor.


    When she finally emerged, the wind hit her, salty and cold. Her heart plummeted.


    She was on a deck.


    Before her stretched nothing but the endless expanse of the sea.


    They weren''t at Southcreek Manor at all.


    They were on a private yacht.


    Footsteps sounded behind her.


    Briony turned.


    Stewart was approaching.


    "We''re already in the middle of the ocean," he said quietly. "It''ll be nearly impossible for anyone to find you now."


    Briony stared at him, disbelief and horror warring in her eyes.


    Up until today, she never could have imagined Stewart would go this far-would lose himself sopletely.


    She looked out over the water, feeling a crushing wave of helplessness rise within her.


    "Stewart, you''re out of your mind..."


    All the fight went out of her. She sank down onto the deck.


    "What will it take for you to let me go?"


    Stewart stopped in front of her and knelt, slow and deliberate.


    He was painfully handsome-gaunt, lips pale, his chiseled features now even sharper, almost cruel in the harsh light. His eyes, narrowed and endlessly dark, mirrored Briony''s paltor.


    "Bryn," he said softly, "maybe the real question is when will you finally listen to me?"


    Briony stared at the man before her, her hope guttering out.


    At twenty-one, she''d thought the man who stepped from the shadows was her salvation. Now she saw the truth: he wasn''t an angee to rescue her, but & devil with a scythe and chains, dragging her down to hell.


    It was her mistake.


    She never should have let herself get involved with a man like him.


    A bitterugh slipped from her lips.


    Sheughed until tears welled in her eyes.


    Hopelessness threatened to swallow her whole.


    Why did it matter how hard she tried? She was still just a puppet tangled in his strings.


    "So what, Stewart? If I refuse, you''ll keep me locked up on this boat forever?"


    "Of course not." Stewart''s lips curled into a faint smile. "I''ve bought several private inds overseas. We could live there. No one would ever bother us."


    Briony''s breath caught.


    He wasn''t bluffing.


    This Stewart-he was capable of anything.


    She shut her eyes. "If I do what you ask, will you really let me go back?"


    "We''ll go back as nned," Stewart said, his voice low. "Once we''re in Northborough, we''ll go straight to city hall for our divorce papers."


    He reached out and wiped away her tears, his fingers gentle. "Bryn, you still owe


    me a wedding. Have you forgotten?"


    "I owe you?" Briony let out a trembling, incredulousugh, nodding. "Fine. I owe you. I owe you everything..."