What You Can’t Lose (Montana Brides #1)

Prologue

She could still feel the sensation of his hands gripping her throat as if it were happening all over again.

His thumbs pressing in harder, forming two deep holes in her neck.

Him pushing until her air supply was completely blocked; her lungs screaming like they were on fire, pleading for one more gulp of air, just one more breath.

Josie shook the haunting memory away, clutching her dark velvet cloak as she scurried through the dark, deserted streets of Charlotte.

Her limbs ached, her feet throbbed, but she refused to slow down—just like she hadn’t hesitated when Mammy called for a carriage.

Every moment counted; her time was dwindling.

If they caught her, she would be shown no mercy.

Surely she’d be locked away forever, or worse, swung from the gallows.

But in her mind, what she did wasn’t a crime.

She had wrestled with two choices—life and death, and she chose to live.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the cemented cobblestones, Josie drew deep breaths, steadying her racing heart despite the raw sting in her throat.

Her brown eyes keenly gazed over her shoulder.

No one was there—only the ghost of her beast, permanently trapped in her mind.

Dawn was breaking, the sky gradually lightening, yet darkness still remained. Just like Josie wanted it to.

She was safe.

She was invisible.

Josie kept her head lowered as she approached the iron gate, encircling the brick mansion before her, hidden behind a row of maple trees.

Shielding her from the world, their large trunks would protect her from harm.

Josie had asked her driver to take her three-quarters of the way so she wouldn’t draw attention.

Her arrival had to go unnoticed. She paid him in gold, offering more than he could earn in an entire year

She trusted him.

She had no choice.

For years, Josie dreamed of this freedom but never anticipated it would come with a target on her back. Leave before first light, she kept telling herself, and she arrived in time.

Just barely.

Josie observed the massive lock on the gate.

Act invisible. He can’t find you now. She pushed back her hood and retrieved a hairpin from her bun.

She inserted it carefully inside the keyhole until she heard the click.

She closed her eyes and sighed, her heavy limbs at ease.

After pulling the hood over her head again, she slowly opened the gate, holding her breath when it creaked softly.

Gritting her teeth, Josie stepped inside the courtyard.

She looked upward at the outstretched maple limbs, which reminded her she was safe, as though they were speaking aloud.

Reaching the home’s front steps, she paused.

Her throat still burned with every inhalation, but she pushed the discomfort aside, just like she did with all the other pains she tried to suppress.

She was strong.

Stronger now than ever.

Josie knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting patiently, or so she told herself while the hair on her neck stood. She had expected a butler to answer the door, but to her surprise and comfort, it was the one person in the world she was overjoyed to see—Great Aunt Tia.

“Josephine?” The elderly woman’s tired, saggy eyes opened wide like her mouth.

After studying Josie with keen eyes, she pulled her into a firm embrace. Josie held her breath, but she couldn’t hold back the tears as they fell onto her aunt’s shoulder. Aunt Tia softly stroked the back of Josie’s head.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

Josie swallowed hard, her sore throat burning as a sob escaped, sending trembles through her body.

“You’re safe now,” Aunt Tia whispered. “You’re safe now.”

However, it would take more than words to bring Josie ease.

Even though she escaped seven years of torment, how could she ever be safe again?

Those memories would never go away. She’d remember that nightmare, and as many times as she’d hear, “all is well” or “you’re safe,” the gruesome memories would never fade.

His face would be in her mind forever, torturing her for what she did.

“Come inside quickly,” Aunt Tia instructed, gripping Josie’s sore arm—bruised from an earlier touch that held no affection, only cruelty.

Josie pressed her lips together, fighting back a whimper.

Aunt Tia tapped her cane softly against the mahogany floor, the sound muffled as they moved onto the damask-printed rug lining the hallway.

Passing through the foyer, Josie could barely make out the wall art, but moonlight streamed through the tall Gothic windows in the corner, allowing a faint glow through the cracked curtains, allowing her to see without tripping.

Aunt Tia retrieved an oil lamp from the wall shelf beside a clock and pressed a cool hand to Josie’s cheek. She smiled. As she lowered her gaze, the lamp’s glow illuminated Josie’s skin. Aunt Tia’s eyes widened, her mouth parted, and a gasp of horror escaped her lips.

“Good heavens, child. Are you all right?”

Josie lightly touched her neck with her fingertips. “I will be,” she said hoarsely.

Aunt Tia motioned for her to follow and opened a door, leading Josie into another dim room. A whiff of citrus and nutmeg mingled with the faint scent of kerosene. Aunt Tia set down the lamp and lit another, casting a soft, orange glow around them.

Josie blinked, adjusting to the light as she took in the parlor’s interior.

Deep burgundy damask wallpaper adorned the walls, thick brown velvet curtains framed the windows, and mauve settees complemented the delicate pink and blue china with floral patterns displayed around the room within the clear glass cabinet.

“Sit down, and I’ll fetch you some tea.”

Josie eased onto the soft settee, listening while her aunt hobbled away, the tap of her cane fading down the hallway.

Hands in her lap, Josie peered around her aunt’s parlor again, observing the paintings above the tiny fireplace’s mantle and a large photo of Josie’s great-grandmother, Helena Callahan.

The woman’s golden ringlets framed her pale, round face, and her features matched Josie’s late younger sister, Susannah.

The nose was the same, sharp along the edges yet narrow at the bridge.

Josie sighed inwardly and leaned back, realizing how long it had been since she sat in this parlor.

Before the war, of course.

Everyone was high on hope when it finally ended, but the danger and violence never quite concluded for Josie.

She had fought hard against the war within the walls of her home, but it had never been a home she could truly call her own.

Josie and her family lived in Asheville on their plantation, Belle Vallée, the most beautiful place in the world until the Yankees destroyed everything in her life.

Then the real monster took everything from her.

Aunt Tia hobbled back into the parlor, carrying a tea tray. Josie quickly stood and took it from her. “Here, let me.” She balanced the tray with one hand while guiding Aunt Tia to her seat with the other.

Her great-aunt eased onto the settee. “Thank you, dear.”

Josie set the tray on the table beside her aunt. Before she could pour the tea, Aunt Tia patted her hand. “Sit down. Let me handle this. You need your rest.”

Josie obeyed, though she found it ironic that she was the one told to rest. Aunt Tia was just as she remembered—stubborn. She poured Josie a cup of tea and twirled her spoon around in it for a moment.

“Here.” The cup rattled atop the saucer from the elderly woman’s shaking hands. “This will make you better in no time.”

Josie sat in silence, sipping the hot beverage as it soothed her bruised throat.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Aunt Tia’s prying gaze.

Even her stare raised goosebumps on Josie’s arms, but she understood her aunt’s concern.

Aunt Tia would undoubtedly have countless questions, and Josie would find herself burdened with answers that were too painful to explain.

“Is he looking for you?”

Josie shook her head, placing her teacup on its saucer.

She shut her eyes, remembering the terrifying event hours ago.

Her husband, Marcus, had been more violent than usual.

Drunk, yes, but other concerns set him off.

Aunt Tia and Josie had been secretly corresponding for months due to his dislike of the woman.

When he found one of Aunt Tia’s letters, begging Josie to move in with her, he had been heated with rage.

He wanted to beat sense into her, as he had done hundreds of times before.

That was until Josie took action and made her escape.

“He won’t be hurting me again . . . or coming here.” She placed her hand on her abdomen as her stomach churned. Josie pushed her tea away on the table beside her, unable to take another sip. She wanted to deny the truth—accept it all as a dream—but it had been real.

Mammy’s scream.

Josie’s grip on the stair rail, trying not to faint.

Aunt Tia’s eyes widened. “Did you?”

Josie looked into her aunt’s aging brown eyes. She didn’t have to say the words aloud. The truth was too hard for her to admit herself. Josie nodded slowly, acknowledging her actions for the first time.

“My goodness,” Aunt Tia gasped, her palm covering her mouth. “How?”

Josie looked away, biting her nails. “He wanted to kill me. He was determined this time . . . He said I’d been no use to him.” Josie closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. “Last night was his final straw.”

Aunt Tia leaned forward and removed her hand from her mouth. “But . . . the baby? Did he know? Surely that would have changed his mind.”