Derek was running. He was a man alone in a frozen wasteland. His breath came in ragged, white clouds. His boots slipped on the ice. He was reaching for something, reaching for her, but the distance between them kept growing.
Thwip.
The sound was sharp, a whisper of death in the wind.
An arrow struck him. It pierced his leg. He stumbled, but he didn't fall. He kept running, limping, desperate.
Thwip.
Another arrow. This one hit his shoulder. The impact spun him around. He fell to his knees in the snow. The cold seeped into his bones instantly.
He looked up.
Prince Liam stood over him. The Prince was smiling, a cold, beautiful, terrible smile. He held a sword. The steel glinted in the winter sun.
"Please," Derek whispered. "Mercy."
He wasn't begging for his life. He was begging for the chance to see Marissa one last time.
Liam laughed. It was the sound of breaking glass.
"Mercy is for the living," Liam said.
He swung the sword.
