WILLOW

As the anchor was lifted, and the sails were dropped, and the ship slowly moved forward, my mind played the cruelest tricks on me.

"Wait!" It floated on the breeze, the faintest sound, but my head jerked all the same. I hung over the rail, searching the trees, desperate for a glimpse of life, but there was no one. Nothing. Anton and the others focused on their tasks. Ella and Justine quietly wept. The children were silent as statues. No one else had heard it. It was all inside my head.

The shore got smaller, and my heart lay in pieces somewhere far beyond it. It couldn't be real. He couldn't really be gone. I'd only just found him. He was everything I hadn't thought existed; the only man I could ever want.

"Stop!" Another echo on the wind.

I covered my ears and screwed my eyes shut. It isn't real. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to jump over the side of the ship, sink to the bottom of the river, and never come up again. I wanted the water to hold me forever because he would never hold me again.

Then a gunshot severed the atmosphere, and my eyes flew open wide.

I froze.

Tex stood half-bent in the shallows, gripping his leg with one hand, a smoking gun held loosely in the other. His body heaved as if he'd ran a mile. Men crowded the bank behind him, frantically waving their arms above their heads. Whistles and shouts grew louder as they multiplied. Ghostly pale bodies dressed in rags slowly spilled from the trees.

"They made it," I breathed, staring in disbelief.

Victor and Anton shouted back and forth in Russian as they worked hard to turn us around.

A sob broke from my lungs as I caught sight of Merle. He'd done it again. He'd fucked the government and survived. Was this a dream? I pinched my arm, and the most beautiful pain told me it wasn't.

I scanned the growing masses, searching for Croc, but I couldn't find him anywhere within the horde. My hands gripped the rail tighter, tension growing with each second that passed. There were too many people. The ship was moving too slow. I wanted to be on shore. So much so, I didn't even realize what I was doing before I hit the water. I dove, and I swam, pushing my muscles to their limit, feeling like I had in my dream. Rushing, rushing, making no progress. There was a ticking in my brain, like a bomb only Croc could diffuse. If I didn't find him before it went off, I never would.

I clawed my way onshore, my clothes heavy and sticking to my skin. Fall air pierced me to my bones, chilling my blood. My teeth chattered, but I didn't slow. I wrapped my arms around my middle, shouldering my way through the thickening crowd. He had to be here. He had to. "Croc!" My voice was shrill. "Croc!" My roar was inhuman. Before I knew it, I wasn't just shouldering people, but shoving them. My heart pounded in my throat, and I couldn't breathe. My wide eyes burned, but I couldn't blink, not until I found him.

Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me left. It was Merle. "C'mon," he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. All I had were questions, and the answers were too terrifying to seek. Too final. So, I followed, saying nothing, only hoping, blindly trusting that Merle would come through. He always came through.

He led me through the crowd, toward the trees.

Then I saw him.

I broke free and sprinted forward, sliding across the dead leaves like a baseball player headed for home. Croc lay incredibly still on a makeshift gurney made out of sticks and scraps of ripped cloth. "Is he—"

"Heavy as goddamn hell?" Cecil grumbled from his spot a few feet away, looking mad enough to shit splinters. "Well, he ain't fucking light."

"He took a beating," Merle said. "But he'll live to hokey pokey with alligators another day."

Cecil snorted.

I inspected the splint on Croc's leg, then rose up to palm his cheek. My chest expanded with the first real breath since he left, then I pressed my forehead to his, and I cried. Not like the painful sobs that'd plagued me for weeks, but something softer. Something healing. The tears streaming down my cheeks got caught in the curve of my smile. I stroked his hair and nuzzled his face. I kissed his nose, his cheeks, his jaw.

Then like a miracle, he stirred. His eyes cracked open, meeting mine.

I sucked in a shaky breath, released a sobbing laugh.

His lips curved, and he roughly whispered, "Pappy says hi."

I didn't have time to question what he meant before he palmed the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his. There was no weakness in the way he kissed me. He devoured me like medicine, breathed me in like life, tasting me like a dessert only served at celebrations.

I melted into him, relishing what I'd thought I'd lost. My hands ran over his arms, his shoulders, his hair, ensuring his existence. Merle and Cecil faded into the background. Pain, loss, and fear ceased to be important, and I had no idea how long we stayed like that. Hours. Days. Years. The hourglass had shattered. We'd broken free from our fate and made it past the last grain of sand.

When we finally came up for air, the ship was back, and a long line of prisoners was slowly being boarded like cattle. I shook my head in amazement, then looked back at Croc. He was already looking at me.

"You saved all those people," I breathed.

He slid his knuckles across my temple, gazing at me as if it were his first time seeing my face. He shook his head. "The men get most of the credit for that. I only saved one."

The way he was looking at me made my whole body weak. I was floating, yet I was totally grounded by the feeling of him beneath me. I hummed. "Only one?"

He nodded. "Reggie."

Whatever expression fell over my face made him erupt in throaty laughter. He winced, clutching his ribs.

"Croc?" It suddenly occurred to me that I could still lose him. He could still die. What if he was bleeding internally right now, and I was just laying here, doing nothing? "You're hurt."

He stroked my back as if I were the one who'd been injured. "A little—" He cupped my head again, pulling me in for another long, deep kiss. "—But I have never felt more alive."

* * *

By the time the last of the prisoners were onboard, it was the middle of the night. Merle, Cecil, and a few others heaved Croc onto the ship and helped me get him into bed. Fern checked over his injuries, rebandaging his wounds, her brow knitted as she focused on the swollen, purple flesh on his leg.

"Will it heal?" I asked.

"I don't know. We need stronger medicine and supplies. There's only so much we can do without penicillin." She offered me a grim smile, but it did nothing to soften the blow of her words. "Tex said we'll try to find some soon."

And we did try. We hit town after town as we sailed down the Tennessee, but every drugstore and hospital had been picked clean, and all Croc had to treat him was nature. Plants and teas were harvested in bulk, but they didn't stop the infection from setting in. They didn't combat the fever that took hold over his mind.

"See?" Croc tossed and turned as he rambled. "How many?"

I sat in a chair beside the bed, chewing my nail as I listened. He'd been talking in his sleep for hours, having full conversations with somebody I couldn't see. He was getting worse. His body was coated in sweat. His breathing was harsh and shallow.

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

I straightened, feeling as if he were addressing me. I stared at his face, but his eyes were clenched shut. "Go," he rumbled, his features twisting in anguish.

"Croc?" I whispered.

"Go!" he boomed.

I jumped up, my chair tipping back with a bang as he thrashed, kicking himself out of the blankets, swinging his arms at some invisible threat. I rushed to the door and yanked it open. "Help!" I screamed. "Somebody help!"

Tex was the first to arrive. "Shit! I need some help in here!" he roared.

Merle, Anton, and Sergio hurried in after him, and the four men wrangled Croc's limbs, pinning him to the bed.

Croc's muscles strained, his body arching off the mattress as if he were possessed. A roar erupted from his lungs, bouncing off the walls, too large for the small room.

"Willow," Eve whimpered at the doorway.

I scooped her into my arms and carried her away.

"Is Croc okay?"

"Of course he is. He's just having a nightmare. How about you take Eric and get some more of those snacks from the kitchen?"

She looked unconvinced, but I forced my best smile and sat her on her feet. "Everything is perfect. I just need to help Croc wake up."

"I won't let you touch her!" Croc boomed. A crash sounded.

"Go!" I nudged her, and she scampered toward Eric, taking his hand.

I hurried back, finding Fern and her father had arrived. They bent over Croc, but I couldn't see what they were doing. Croc jerked as if he were having a seizure.

"What are you doing to him?" I demanded, shoving my way inside, desperate to see for myself. But by the time I made it through, Croc fell limp.

Fern wiped her forehead with a shaking hand. "It's the fever. We have to cool him down."

His skin was wet, and a rag laid across his forehead. Joseph pressed two more to Croc's wrists, then draped another over each of his ankles. He heaved a harsh sigh and stepped back. "The infection is bad."

"But he'll live?" I asked. I needed him to say it, because the tone of his voice made it sound like he wouldn't.

"He's fighting, but it'll be hard without antibiotics. We need to regulate his temperature and do what we can." He patted my shoulder as he exited the room. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. They were the worst words anyone had ever said to me. I wanted to yank him by the back of his shirt and demand he take them back. But I didn't. They cleared the room, leaving me alone to watch my whole world slowly fade away, powerless to do anything about it.