Chapter 2

Don Shaw stared at his daughter for a long time.

“You want to take Mia’s place? You’re not marrying Ethan?”

"Rayna." Her father took off his glasses. "Do you know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

He didn’t believe her. No one in the compound would. Rayna had spent years declaring to anyone who would listen that she would marry Ethan Chase or no one at all. She had shoved Mia into walls, screamed at her in hallways, and made it absolutely clear that she would burn the world down before letting her sister touch the man she loved.

For her to give up the engagement and walk into enemy territory in Mia's place — impossible.

“Your wedding is in ten days,” her father said slowly. “Are you sure about this?”

Rayna paused. Then she smiled—a small, tired thing.

“You’re always telling me that Mia lost her father and I should let her have things. Isn’t that what you want?”

Her father's expression shifted through something complicated. Guilt, maybe. Or surprise that his headstrong daughter had finally listened.

She didn’t wait for his answer. She turned and walked out.

Ever since he had remarried, he had made a habit of telling her to rein in her temper, to be kinder to Mia, terrified she might feel unwelcome under their roof. In her last life, if she hadn't thrown her dead mother — the woman who had died saving him — across his desk, he would have simply rewritten the drawing of lots and put her name on the slip.

This time, she was saving him the trouble.

So finally he added her name to the infiltration file instead.

The hallway outside the Don’s office was cold, She had barely taken three steps when someone slammed into her shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Ethan Chase.

He looked frantic. His uniform was stained with mud, as if he had just dropped to his knees somewhere. She knew exactly where—in her past life, she had found him begging her father to take Mia’s name off the mission roster.

She had dragged him to a priest that same day and forced him to sign the engagement contract.

Now she just rubbed her shoulder and stepped aside.

Ethan shot out an arm to stop her. Anger and confusion flashed through his eyes.

“Rayna.”

She pulled free. “The mission was decided by lottery. Those are the rules.”

His jaw tightened. “If the Don just gave me more time, I could find another way. We don’t have to send a woman into his bed.”

She almost laughed.

Time? How much time did he think they had? The war between the families had been bleeding men for three years. Every day they delayed, more of their people would end up in the river. Right now, putting one woman — her or Mia — into Silas Price's house to lift the ledger was the path with the fewest losses, the highest chance of success.

“One of us is going,” she said quietly. “Mia or me. You can beg on your knees all day, Ethan. It won’t change anything.”

His grip tightened on her wrist. His voice dropped. “"As long as you don't go running to the Commander to make things worse, there may still be another way."

She pulled away again. This time, she didn’t look back.

"Have it your way. The application's already in. You'll be satisfied when the day comes."

She walked off, leaving Ethan standing there, stunned.

Behind her, she heard him call her name once. Twice. She kept walking.

She had meant to tell him the truth. Now she didn't want to.

In her last life he had wished her dead. A few more hours of his hatred wouldn't make much difference. When the wedding day came and he saw the bride wasn't her — he'd probably be a little happier, even.

But remembering how he had buckled his only vest onto her, shoved her out of the encirclement, and taken every bullet and shell himself — her throat still tightened.

She had spent eight years believing that if she just kept him close, the bitterness would eventually turn sweet.

But he had only left her the chance to live, and chosen to die in the dirt beside Mia.

*Ethan Chase. You saved my life once. This time, let's call it even.*