I stumbled back two steps, heart pounding, and a thorn sank into my finger—and just like that I was back in that dim basement three days ago, the drug already dragging me under.
I had bitten down on my lip until it split, even ripped off a fingernail, telling myself that if those animals came through the door, I'd take them down with me.
Then Clyde had burst through the door like a hero out of a story, larger than life, the man who would save me from anything.
His bodyguards pinned the kidnappers to the ground.
He slipped off his jacket and settled it over my shoulders, and when I swayed into him, barely conscious, he quietly sent everyone out and had the door closed behind them.
He held me. His voice was raw. "Deidre, I'll take responsibility for you. The moment we're out of here, I'm marrying you."
Back then, I had secretly thanked fate.
I'd even convinced myself that everything—the kidnapping, the drugs—was destiny forcing me into Clyde Gilbert's arms, and that made it all worth it.
Now I knew how ridiculous that sounded.
A few seconds of silence in the garden. Then Victoria rose on her toes and pressed her lips to Clyde's.