The tent was empty.

Evangeline was gone.

At a glance, it looked as if there’d been a struggle. Everything was a mess—trunks of clothes were toppled. Pillows were slashed. The table lay tipped over in a riot of spilled wine and spattered food. Berries had been stomped into the ground next to meat now smeared with dirt.

“Guards!” Apollo bellowed, calling forth two soldiers who had been outside.

It was clear from the moment they looked into the tent that they hadn’t heard any commotion. There’d been no battle, no kidnapping—just as Apollo had feared.

Evangeline had left willingly—and left this scene to throw him off the trail.

Which could mean only one thing.

She remembered.

“I want my wife found,” Apollo said. “Bring her back to me, by whatever means necessary.”