Kara POV:

I stared at Derrick's outstretched hand. Clean, warm, with long, elegant fingers. A hand that had once held mine with such tenderness. The memory was a bitter poison.

I didn't move. My mind raced. Accept his help, and I'd be indebted. Refuse, and I might die in this snow.

"A slave like me couldn't possibly accept the kindness of Lord Klein," I said, my voice a raw rasp. I made sure to use his formal title.

Derrick's eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression didn't change. He wasn't surprised. He withdrew his hand.

"If you won't accept my help for yourself, then consider your grandmother," he said, his tone cool but pointed. "Matilda Powers has been worried sick about you."

Grandmother Matilda. One of the few people who had shown me genuine warmth and kindness three years ago. The thought of her agonizing over my fate in this freezing wasteland twisted my heart. I couldn't bear to cause her any more worry. It was the perfect excuse, one I couldn't refuse.

Survival first. Revenge later.

I tried to push myself up, to get to my feet on my own. But the pain in my leg was a sharp, vicious thing, and I fell back with a gasp.

A flicker of something-annoyance? concern? -crossed his face. Before I could protest, he bent down and swept me into his arms.

My body went rigid. The scent of him-cedar and cold steel-filled my senses, an unwelcome ghost from a past life. I wanted to fight, to claw my way out of his hold, but I was boneless with pain and exhaustion. I could only lean against his chest, hating my own weakness.

He carried me to his carriage as if I weighed nothing and gently placed me on the soft seat.

This carriage was warmer, larger. A small charcoal brazier glowed in the corner, chasing away the winter chill.

Derrick took off his heavy cashmere coat and draped it over me.

I flinched, my first instinct to push it away. But the warmth seeped into my frozen limbs, a comfort so profound it was its own kind of pain. I hated myself for craving it.

A memory, sharp and unwanted, pierced through the fog of pain. Corie, shivering delicately after a walk in the rain. Derrick, wrapping this very coat around her, his eyes soft with a concern he had never once shown me.

The bitterness was a physical thing, a shard of ice in my heart. His gentleness was a gift he gave freely to others, but it had been absent when I needed it most.

He sat across from me. "Back to Greyrock Keep," he told the driver.

His eyes were on me. "What happened to your leg?"

I closed my eyes, refusing to answer. I would not show him any vulnerability.

He didn't press. "I've sent for a physician. He will be waiting for you at the Keep."

A physician. I almost laughed. To assess my value, no doubt. To see if the merchandise was still usable.

The grand, dark towers of Greyrock Keep rose from the snow-swept landscape. Home. The word was a mockery. This was the beautiful cage where my life had been destroyed.

The carriage stopped. The door was pulled open.

Elna Powers, Aden, and Corie were waiting on the porch.

Their faces were a study in shock as they saw me, wrapped in Derrick's coat, emerging from his carriage. Elna's held a flicker of relief. Aden's, pure fury.

And Corie. The color drained from her beautiful face. She stared at me as if I were a ghost clawing its way out of the grave to drag her down.

Derrick stepped out first, then turned, offering me his hand.

In front of them all, I ignored it.

I grabbed the doorframe, hauling myself out. I dragged my shattered leg behind me, each step a testament to my will. I stood on the frozen ground of Greyrock Keep, my head held high. My eyes met theirs, one by one. A declaration.

I was back.