“I thought you wanted me dead, Mr. Morganach, so why would you care?” I ask, humour making me less utterly terrified. I think I know the answer anyway. “By my hand, not a fucking cliff. The sea doesn’t get to take your life, Lexi. No one does, but me,” he demands. “I’m not sure if that was romantic or scary,” I mutter. “Scary,” he deadpans. “Sure,” I grin, and he shakes his head at me as I stand up.”