Prologue 1
"HENRY!" Emma shrieked, dropped down beside her son. She didn't have to look up to know what Cora had done. The smoky dust of a crushed heart landed in a small pile next to her, but when she looked up finally, Cora was gone.
This was her fault. This was Cora's payback. The Queen of Hearts couldn't take the Savior's heart, so instead she took her son's.
"Henry," Emma whispered to his still body. "Henry, look at me. Henry. Henry . . ."
The palm of his hand lay facing the sky. Emma took hold of it, pressing it first to her lips and then to her chest, tears spilling over and making two thin, salty trails down her cheeks. She bent over, resting her forehead on his chest and sobbing loudly.
The forest was dark, empty. Nobody was within miles of them. But that didn't stop her from screaming for people who weren't there.
"Help! Somebody, please, HELP ME!"
She cried, not bothering to hold back the choking wails building up inside her. Why couldn't she stop saying his name?
"Henry, you're not dead . . . not . . . no . . ."
She kept crying.
"Henry, don't leave me . . ."
She couldn't stop crying. She was so tired. So exhausted. She'd lost too much, too soon.
"Henry . . ."
Eventually, minutes later, or possibly hours or days or months because time meant nothing anymore, she kissed his forehead and curled up beside him, hugging him close. "I won't leave you," she whispered, brushing back the hair that covered his eyes. His skin was stone cold. "I love you, Henry."
She squeezed her eyes shut. Any remaining tears dropped off of her sparkling eyelashes and hit the gold autumn leaves that created a bed for them in the depths of the trees. It took time for her to notice, but even the birds had stopped singing. All was silent in the shadowy woods that surrounded Storybrooke, Maine. All was silent.
And Emma, her head laying on her son's chest, couldn't help but listen for any sign of life in him; a gasping breath or tiny heartbeat. A heartbeat from a heartless boy.
Prologue 2
He pulled the trigger once. Twice. Again and again. The Queen's body was peppered with bullets, the genuinely shocked expression still on her face as she sunk to her knees. She gritted her teeth together, and at once they both looked at the heart in her gloved hand. Jefferson dived forwards, reaching out, but in the few seconds it took for him to cross the room, she squeezed the heart in her fist and smirked.
Cora's last act.
A scream erupted from the other side of the room. Grace hit the floor, screaming in pain and clawing at her chest. "PAPA!" she cried, writhing.
Jefferson turned at the sound of her voice, disbelief and fear smacking into him harder than a telescope to the head. "Grace. Grace . . . GRACE!"
Torn, he glanced back at Cora, who's head fell to the floorboards the moment Grace's screams died out.
Grace was okay. She was safe. He'd killed Cora and Grace had survived. Just in time.
He collapsed beside his daughter, breathing heavily and just cradling her. "It's okay," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. "You're safe now. She's dead."
They stayed like that for only a short time before he realized something was wrong. "Grace? Angel, look at me."
Grace didn't move.
"Gracie?" His voice cracked. "Can you hear me?"
Still nothing.
He laid her down on the floor gently, looking her over. His heart pounded like it was purposefully trying to break his ribs. He brushed the hair off her face, frowning. No. Something was wrong.
Then it hit him.
A million thoughts rushed through him at once, blowing through his mind and taking every bit of sanity he'd collected over the past few months. Not Grace . . . anyone but her . . . He looked back at Cora's dead, bleeding body and saw it. The dust, trickling off her open palm and spilling onto the floor messily.
That's going to stain the rug, I'll bet.
He stood up slowly, frowning.
Yup. Going to have to scrub at that with soap, probably.
Grace . . .
. . . is fine.
Grace . . .
. . . is gone.