Arizona Territory, 1880.

Caden Roark rode into town barely alive. His shirt was soaked with blood, his horse was exhausted, and behind him came a group of armed riders large enough to make the entire settlement go silent.

The sheriff grabbed Caden by the arm.

“What happened?”

Caden looked toward the desert.

“They killed everyone at the ranch.”

Seconds later, the riders entered town.

Their leader dismounted and walked straight toward Caden.

“Where is the girl?”

Caden frowned. “What girl?”

“The one you thought was dead.”

Then a young woman appeared at the end of the street.

Caden froze.

Seven years earlier, everyone had watched her disappear.

Now she was standing there alive.

Her name was Emma.

Before Caden could reach her, a rifle cracked from a nearby rooftop. Cowboys drew their weapons as horses scattered and gunfire erupted through the dusty street.

Emma grabbed Caden and pulled him into an abandoned stable.

“They aren’t trying to kill me,” she whispered.

Caden stared at her.

“Then who?”

Emma reached inside her coat and pulled out a bloodstained photograph.

“Everyone who knows what happened seven years ago.”

Caden looked down at the photograph.

His own face was in it.

He was standing beside the sheriff.

And beside the same men who were now hunting them.

Then Caden remembered something he’d spent seven years trying to forget.

He hadn’t come back to town to save Emma.

He had been part of the reason she disappeared.