SkyeThe roses are in bloom, and I move toward them, breathing in their scent, letting the quiet settle my nerves. It’s what I always did back in Ironwood when it all became too much.I'm admiring a particularly beautiful red rose when a hand clamps over my mouth from behind. Panic explodes through me. I struggle, try to scream, but the hand is firm. Strong.A voice in my ear, low and threatening: "Stop fighting or I'll hurt the baby."Terror overrides everything. My hands go to my belly automatically, protective, even as my mind screams at me to fight. But I was raised by an Alpha. My father taught me not to be helpless.I slam my head back with all my strength. Connect with something—his nose, I think—and hear a satisfying crunch. The man curses, his grip loosening.And I scream. Loud. Piercing. Using every ounce of air in my lungs."HELP!"Guards pour from the house like ants from a disturbed nest. The attacker releases me, disappearing into the trees with inhuman speed. The guards
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