A chill swept over my skin as I sat straight, my hands clutching the saddle. The idea of Casteel dying, of him no longer being there with those frustrating smirks and teasing glances, his quick-witted replies, and those damn, infuriating dimples? I couldn’t even consider it. He was too vivid, too bright to think of him no longer being there. But he would be gone one day. When this was all over and we parted ways, he would be gone from my life. That was what I wanted—what I planned. Then why did I suddenly feel like crying?
