I WAS PACING THE HALLS, brooding and furious. Outside, the wind was screeching over the roof and rattling the windows, a monster ready to tear the house apart. I knew how it felt.

I’d got up and dressed in a suit because I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping again. It wasn’t that I’d had the bad dream. The bad dream was terrifying, but it motivated me, kept me focused on what was important.

I’d had the good dream again. More vivid, this time. More real. Like before, I’d been with Christina, somewhere green. I’d woken and stared down at her, aching for her, aching for a different life. One where I could be a husband... a father. That’s what had made me get up. That’s what had me pacing the halls, enraged at myself. I’d let this whole thing get out of control.

I’d been weak. So, so weak. I’d let her get close to me, I’d fallen for her, and now I was having stupid ideas, ideas like a family! I knew what that sort of thing led to. A woman made you vulnerable. A child, doubly so. I’d been blinded by emotion, but now, alone with time to think, I could see it. I was risking everything I’d built, everything I’d promised them, that night.

A noise, behind me. I turned to see her standing there in just her panties and a sheet, the thin material wound around her like a toga, the moonlight painting her pale skin silver. God, she was beautiful. For a second, I just wanted to tell her everything was okay and go back to bed with her. I could feel myself weakening. This is why I can’t be around her!

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you dressed? It’s the middle of the night!”

I couldn’t explain. I shook my head.

She stepped closer and took my hand. “What is it? Talk to me!”

I wanted to. I wanted to share everything with her. But I can’t talk about what happened that night. And the more I opened up to her, the closer we got, the harder this would be. If I didn’t want history to repeat, there was only one thing I could do.

“Christina,” I began, looking at the floor, “I think—I can’t be with you.”

She drew in her breath. She shook her head in denial, but, as soon as I looked up and she saw my expression, she knew it was true. She dropped my hand as if scalded. “You’re breaking up with me?!”

I started to say no... but I couldn’t.

“Now?” she asked, incredulous. “In the middle of the—After we just—”

I cursed. I had no idea how to do this, I only knew it had to be done. “Victoria can help you pack,” I offered. “Grigory will take you anywhere you want to go—”

But she gave a hurt little cry and I stopped talking—I was just making it worse. “Christina,” I said, reaching for her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No.” And then she was off and running, down the stairs and into the hallway, and then the howl of the wind rose as she threw open the door and ran outside.

Shit! Should I go after her? Not go after her? I had no idea how to deal with something like this.

Then I realized where she was going, and how much danger she was in.

And I bolted down the stairs and ran after her into the storm.