The Raven Game by Jessica Sorensen

Raven

The dead body belongs to a guy with dark hair. His eyes are open, his mouth agape, and it looks like his heart was clawed out. He’s clutching a knife in his hand, the blade pointed up at the sky, and I wonder if that’s what I cut my knee on.

It’s a horrible sight to behold and makes my stomach churn. However, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a dead body, so the intense adrenaline that I felt the first time I saw one isn’t quite as potent.

It was my parents, their bodies lying on the floor, their blood staining the carpet.

I tear myself away from the surfacing memory, not wanting to think about the right now.

“Did the shadow feeders do that to him?” I whisper as I begin to tremble.

“I … I don’t know.” Zay swallows hard as he stares at the body for a moment. “We need to go.” He stands then tears his gaze off the body, looking down at me. “We need to get out of here fast … You need … You need to let me carry you.”

I part my lips to protest, but when another howl rips through the night, my gaze flicks to the body. Something is out here. Something other than the shadow feeders. I can sense it. I’m not sure how. I just know that I can.

“Okay,” I agree, and Zay reaches to help me to my feet.

I slide my knife back into the holster then place my hand in his. Once I get steady, he scoops me up in his arms and takes off through the trees.

It’s as weird as I thought it would be. Well, at first. Eventually, his arms and his warmth begin to blanket my mind with familiarity.

“Ow, I think I hurt my foot,” I complain.

Zay slows to a stop. We’ve been running forever, and I lost my shoes back when we had to cross the river, and the monsters with fangs almost caught us. I look down at the bottom of my foot and crinkle my nose at the sight of blood oozing out of a wound.

“Ew …” I make a face.

“Does it hurt?” Zay asks worriedly as he crouches down to get a look at my foot.

I shake my head, even though it does, wanting to seem tough. “I’m fine.”

His fingers are gently wrapped around my ankle as he examines the wound. “I think I should carry you. At least until we get to the hideout.”

I pull another face. “I can walk.”

He glances up at me. “I know you can. This is just to be cautious. We don’t want you losing your foot.”

“Yeah, probably not,” I agree.

He stands up and scoops me into his arms before running into the trees and toward our secret hideout—

“Holy crap,” I say as I’m jerked back to reality. “We had a secret hideout somewhere out here.”

Zay blinks down at me. “Huh?”

I’m about to explain what I saw when the trees open up into a small area canopied by tree branches. In the center is a massive tree with a ladder on it. Above, in the branches, is a makeshift cabin-type structure—the hideout from my memory. And standing in front of the ladder are Jax and Hunter. Apparently, Hunter remembered it, too, since he’s the one who led us here.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Hunter demands the moment Zay and I barrel into the area. He sounds completely unlike the relaxed Hunter I know, anger blazing in his tone as he strides toward us. “We seriously thought that they …” He trails off as he reaches us, and Zay slows to a stop. “What the hell happened to her?”

“She tripped over something and cut her knee open,” Zay explains, shifting my weight in his arms.

Hunter looks down at my knee, but I’m sure it’s too dark for him to see the wound.

“Cut it on what?” he asks.

“I …” Zay winces as another howl pierces the air. “Can we get up into the hideout, and then I’ll explain?”

“Shit, yeah.” Hunter lightly traces his fingers across my jawline. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah. I can walk and everything. I was just moving too slow.” To prove my point, I signal for Zay to put me down, but he only tightens his arms around me.

Great, here we go again with his overprotectiveness.

“Zay, I’ll be fine,” I attempt to reassure him with a pat on the chest. “Besides, you can’t carry me up the ladder.”

“There’s no way you can climb up the ladder.” He grinds his teeth. “You’re hurt.”

“I can,” I insist. “You gotta put me down to do it, though.”

He still makes no effort to do so.

“Zay, she’s right,” Hunter chimes in, crossing his arms. “You can’t climb up the ladder carrying her like that. Put her down, and we’ll help her up, okay?”

He may have protested more, but a loud scream—yes, a freakin’ scream—echoes through the night.

Everyone stiffens, and then Zay rushes over to the ladder where Jax is already climbing up. I think it’s kind of strange that he’s the one to go first. Jax seems like the sort of guy who’d be the last one to go up in order to make sure everyone else gets up first. You know, like a boss would. But, as Zay puts me down and I start to climb up the ladder super slowly, I become aware of why Jax hurried up so fast. He’s waiting at the top of the ladder with his arms extended toward me to help me up.

Zay keeps his hands on my waist until I’m high enough that he can no longer reach me. He starts to ascend the ladder then, right beneath me, keeping closer. The ladder is fairly tall, so it takes me a bit to get within reach of Jax. It’s probably a good thing that the cabin is up so high in the tree. It’ll hopefully be high enough that the monsters won’t be able to get up. Of course, it makes climbing it up it a pain in the ass.

Eventually, I make it to where Jax is waiting for me. He immediately wraps his fingers around my arms and guides me up. When I reach the top of the ladder, I find an area where the platform Jax is on stretches down, leaving it so I have to put weight on both my legs in order for me to hoist myself onto it.

I tense, knowing it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but knowing I have to.

“Sweetheart, just hold on to me.” Jax wraps his fingers around my upper arms. “I’m going to pull you up. All you need to do is make sure your leg doesn’t bump the side.” He leans around to look down the ladder. “Zay, push her up, okay?”

Zay puts his hands on the backs of my legs and basically pushes me up the rest of the way while Jax’s pulls me up by the arms. I grip his arms as he does and, moments later, I’m up on the platform with Jax.

I sit down, breathing profusely, and Jax crouches down beside me.

“Are you okay?” He sweeps a strand of hair out from my eyes and examines me intensely.

I nod, looking down at my wounded leg. The moonlight is brighter up here, giving me a better view of the injury

“I’m fine. I swear I am,” I tell Jax. “It’s just cut in a place that makes it hard to bend my leg.”

His lips turn downward as he notes the wound. “Fuck, that looks deep.”

“She cut it on a knife,” Zay explains as he hoists himself onto the platform beside us, rolls over onto his back, and stares up at the stars, his chest rising and crashing with each breath.

“Her own knife?” Jax asks but doesn’t sound as if he believes it.

Zay sits up and scoots beside me. “No, it was someone else’s.”

Jax’s attention drifts to Hunter as he hoists himself up onto the platform.

“We need to get the ladder up now.” Hunter is out of breath as he kneels and turns around to do just that. “Jax, come help me.”

Jax strides over to him, and then the two of them begin pulling the ladder up while Zay scoots close enough to me that his side is pressed against mine. Then, with shaky fingers, he encloses his fingers around my injured leg and guides it over so it’s draped over his lap. After that, he leans over to a dusty trunk that’s nearby, unlatches the lock, reaches inside, and retrieves a flashlight and what looks like a first-aid kit. I take a moment to peer around.

The makeshift cabin is decent. It has a peaked roof that has a few cracks in it. Other than that, it looks like a rundown studio-type cabin was lifted into the tree.

“Who built this place?” I wonder as Zay shines the light on my bleeding knee.

“We did.” He takes a roll of gauze out of the first-aid kit. “We actually stole the materials from an old cabin that was in the woods and basically rebuilt it here.”

“We did?” I question. “Dude, we were so young, though.”

“We had help,” he mumbles as he wraps the gauze around my knee.

“From whom?” I wince as pain pierces through my knee.

“My … my brother,” Zay whispers quietly as he ties a knot into the end of the gauze. “He was a few years older than us. He had some of his friends help.”

My brows pull together. “Where’s your brother now?”

He presses his lips together. “Buried somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Zay.” I feel awful for bringing it up.

“Why? It’s not your fault.” He releases an uneven breath then quickly clears his throat. “The gauze will keep dirt out of it for now and slow down the bleeding a little bit, but we’re going to have to get it properly cleaned soon, and you’re going to need stitches.”

I wince at the idea of being stitched up. “Okay, but does anyone here know how to do that?”

“Jax does,” he replies, “if we have the proper materials.”

Surprised, I sit up straighter. “Jax knows how to stitch up wounds?”

He shrugs. “He’s had to stitch me up a ton of fucking times over the years. But he won’t be able to unless we get a proper first-aid kit.” He continues to stare at my leg while tracing a soothing path around my knee.

“He had to stitch you up because you get into fights?” I have to bite down on my bottom lip to restrain myself from shivering at his touch.

He bobs his head up and down, totally fixated on my leg. “I get into fights when I feel too worked up. It calms me down.”

“That makes sense … sort of.”

His gaze skates to mine. “Does it?”

I lift a shoulder. “I haven’t been in a shit ton of fights … At least, not from what I remember, but I have gotten into a few, and usually it happens when I feel like I’m about to burst from all the crap storming inside me. Getting high helps with that.” I grimace. “I’d kill for a hit right now.” As my words register, I think a bit of my shock washes away and is replaced by … Well, I’m not even quite sure what it is that I’m feeling. Fear? Pain? Rage?

“What do you think killed that guy down there? I mean, his heart looked like it had been ripped out of his chest.”

Hunter and Jax have gotten the ladder up all the way, and Hunter drops it in surprise, gaping at us. “The dead guy’s heart was fucking ripped out?”

Zay nods, still tracing a pattern on my knee. “Raven tripped over him, and he was holding a knife, which is what she cut her knee on. But yeah, from what I could see, it looked like something ripped out his heart.”

“What the hell is going on?” Hunter’s voice is laced with fear. “There was nothing like that during the first game.”

“Nothing like this has been like the first game.” Jax flips the top of the entrance over, closing it up. “Except for the shadow feeders existing. But they don’t rip hearts out, so there’s something else out there.”

“How do they …?” I fidget with the leather band on my wrist, nervousness bubbling inside of me. “I mean, how do any of these things exist? They’re like monsters, right? But, how do they exist?”

“Drug experiments either gone wrong or gone right. I’m not sure if it was intentional— creating creatures like shadow feeders. All I know is that our fathers were doing drug experiments for some reason, and shadow feeders were the result of the new drugs,” Jax mutters.

His words send a chill down my spine, and I involuntarily shudder.

Zay looks concerned, but I say nothing, not wanting to talk about how afraid I am.

Fear.

Pain.

Sadness.

Anger.

Loneliness.

Is that all there is?

I’d say yes because, for the most part, that’s all I’ve felt in my life. But, in my resurfacing memories, I can recall a few times when I felt safe, calm, and maybe even loved. And right now, even though terror is pulsating through my veins, Zay’s touch on my knee and the concern in his eyes sends a trickle of warmth through me. What the fuck that warmth is, I have no idea, but I definitely don’t hate it.

“We need to figure out this map situation.” Jax stands up and stares ahead at the view. The front section of the cabin is still partially open, giving a view of trees in front of us, the night sky peering through the branches above, and …

“Why are there fires lit up out there?” I point out in the distance.

Jax stares out at the land with his arms crossed. “I have no idea.”

The floorboards creak as Hunter walks over to him. “They didn’t start the forest on fire, did they?”

Jax shakes his head. “No, they look like torches.”

“Why would they light up torches?” Hunter questions, rubbing his jaw.

“I’m not sure.” Jax reaches into his pocket to fish out the card that was left for us after the car basically dumped us into a sea of shadow feeders. “So, this thing says, ‘Welcome to the start of the deadly games. We’re going to do things a bit differently this time. Your first task is simply to survive the shadow feeders. So, on your mark, get set, run my little birds. If you don’t die by the end, you’ll arrive at the opening ceremony. Follow the map on the back of the card.’ But there’s no map on the back of the card,” he adds, turning it over.

“Let me see it.” Hunter takes the card from him and inspects it.

“Is it blank?” Zay asks, and Jax nods.

All three of them are completely engulfed in the fact that the back of the card is blank. Me? I’m stuck on the words printed on the front. Or more specifically: my little birds.

Blood roars in my eardrums as the memory sears into my mind.

“When I was in the psychiatric hospital, the doctor there would call me his little bird.”

I have their undivided attention.

Jax steps toward me, the floorboards creaking underneath his boots. “After your parents died?”

I give an unsteady nod.

Jax taps his finger against his lip as he ponders something. Between the fires in the distance and the glow of the flashlight, I can make out his facial features. He has a small cut just above his brow, probably from a tree branch, but what really throws me off is the worry flickering across his features.

“What’re you thinking?” Hunter asks him.

Jax keeps his attention on me as he sticks out his hand toward Hunter. “Give me the card.”

Looking perplexed, Hunter hands the card over to him.

Jax takes it, crosses the short distance to me, and crouches down, leveling his gaze with mine. “I think you might be the answer here, sweetheart.”

I arch my brow. “You think I can find this map on the back of this blank card? I know I’m awesome and everything, but I’m not magical. I wish I was, but unfortunately, I’m not.”

The corner of his lips quirk upward into the smallest of smiles, but he hastily presses it away. I wonder why he’s always doing that—hiding his smile.

“Maybe you are, though,” he says to me in all seriousness. Then he places the tip of his finger to my temple. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that the term little birds was used on the card. I think the answer to this might be in here, locked away with that memory where the doctor called you a little bird.”

I swallow audibly. “I can’t remember much about that time, other than a few things here and there.”

He withdraws his hand from my temple. “I know, but maybe if you tried to recall more details, the full memory might come back to you, since hearing that song started to unleash our ability to recall forgotten memories.”

He could be right, but I’m terrified. I’m not about to tell him that, though. I’m not about to reveal my weakness to him. Sure, I’ve started to trust the guys more, but with everything that’s happened to me in the past—all the abuse, betray, and lies—it’s hard to trust completely. Plus, I received that text telling me not to trust the guys. Although, I’m still unsure if I should trust that text.

“I’m not sure I can just remember on cue,” I tell him. “When I remember forgotten memories, it usually just sort of bitch-smacks me out of nowhere.”

He considers what I said. “What’s usually happening when you remember stuff?”

I shrug, my cheeks warming at the first thought that crosses my mind.

Whenever you guys are touching me, it seems to happen a lot.

“Just stuff,” I lie, and not well.

He search my eyes. “What sort of stuff?”

“Just … stuff.” I cringe at how obvious my lying is.

He takes a deep breath, and I assume he’s losing patience with me, so when he calmly speaks to me, it’s a little weird.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, “if we’re going to figure this out, you need to be honest with me.”

My heart flutters at the sound of sweetheart coming off his lips. It’s the second time he’s called me that since we got to this treehouse structure, and I wonder if he’s even aware of saying it.

“You’re calling me sweetheart again,” I inform him, partially in an attempt to divert the subject.

His gaze never wavers from mine. “I know. Is it bothering you yet?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

The truth is, I kind of like it, but like hell I’m going to tell him that, either.

“Hmm … Guess I’m gonna keep having to test drive it until we can both figure out how we feel about it.” He inches toward me. “Now, can you tell me what usually sets these memories off so we can figure this out?”

When I make no effort to answer, Hunter moves up beside me. “Whatever it is, you can tell us,” he tries to reassure me while sitting down just to the side of me. “There’s no judgment here. I swear.”

“I’m not worried about judgment,” I mumble. “I’m just …” I huff out a frustrated breath.

Zay, who’s been quiet for the last few minutes, still doesn’t speak, but he does subtly hitch his pinkie with mine, his silent way of trying to comfort me, I guess.

I still don’t want to tell them, but deep down, I know I have to unless I want to hang out in this tree all night. Part of me sort of wants to, but there’s also no food or water up here. And my knees totally jacked up, so …

“It’s not about being judged,” I repeat with a sigh. “It’s just a little bit uncomfortable to talk about because I know you’re”—I fix my attention on Hunter—“going to say things that’ll make me blush, but whatever. I guess I should probably get used to that, huh?”

He gives a shameless nod. “I fucking love making your cheeks flush.” He briefly pauses. “But I really want to make your cheeks flush while I’m fucking you.”

I shake my head, my cheeks as warm as the fires blazing in the distance. “See?”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say whatever I felt.”

He has a point. And the last thing I want is to force someone to be who they’re not. And besides, deep down, a part of me likes the way he talks to me. It’s hard to admit that aloud, and I have no idea why, other than perhaps I’ve been brainwashed into thinking saying sexual stuff is bad.

Well, there’s a thought.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Most of the time, when I remember things, one of you guys are either having an intense conversation with me, or”—I clear my throat—“touching me.”

And cue my wildfire cheeks.

No one says anything for a fire-crackling of a beat, and then, in typical Hunter fashion, he says, “So, like when Jax practically finger-fucked you in the hallway?”

“Dude,” Zay mumbles, shaking his head, “why do you have to do that?”

“What? I’m just trying to help her remember things,” Hunter says innocently.

Zay shakes his head in annoyance, while Jax continues to silently study me.

“So, what are you suggesting we do about that, then?” Jax asks suddenly.

“Um … I don’t know.” I shrug. “I wasn’t really suggesting anything. I was just answering your question. But FYI, it’s super weird you’re asking me what we should do. That doesn’t seem like your typical MO. At least, not the Jaxon I know now.”

“He wasn’t always like that. He used to come to you all the time to …” Hunter’s words fizzle out as Jax throws a sharp look at him. “Fine. Whatever. I won’t tell her the truth.”

“You’re right; you won’t. Because it’s not your fucking story to tell.” Jax’s tone is like ice.

“Maybe not,” Hunter mumbles. “But eventually, she needs to know as much as we can tell her, especially if we want her to remember things.”

When Jax continues to stare at him, Hunter shakes his head in irritation. “Fine, I’ll handle this. You two go hang out on the lookout.” He rises to his feet. “I’m not afraid to tell her about me.”

“Is that an order?” Jax asks him in an eerily cold tone.

“Yep.” Hunter’s voice is clipped.

Zay, who’s said absolutely nothing for quite a while, finally speaks up. “No.”

Hunter crosses his arms and stares him down. “Look, I know this is hard for you, but either you can stay here and be the one to try to get her memories out of her, or you’re going to have to give her and me some space.”

Confusion weaves through me. “Why do they need to leave?”

Hunter’s attention slides to me. “Because you and I are gonna try to tap into some of those hidden memories.”

I smash my lips together as my stomach spins with nervousness.

Wait … Is he going to, like, touch me?

No … That can’t be right …

Right?

Yeah, I’m not so sure. And that uncertainty increases as Zay gets to his feet and storms out of the section we’re sitting in, leaving a trail of irritation behind him. When he gets out to the platform, he swings around a small section of the wall and steps out onto another ledge that has a small railing.

Jax stands up and looks from me to Hunter. “You sure you can handle this?” he asks Hunter.

“I can better than you two,” he replies. “We all know when it comes to the emotional stuff, I’m the only one who can deal with it.”

“Deal with it, sure,” Jax states with a pressing look. “But handling it is an entirely different story.”

Hunter briefly casts a glance at me then looks back at Jaxon and lowers his voice. “She’s a different story.”

I’m not quite sure what he means by that, but Jax evidentially does, since he nods once then walks off in the direction Zay headed in.

I tilt my head up to look at Hunter, who’s staring off in Jax and Zay’s direction. “You guys have me worried now,” I admit.

His brings his attention back to me, and his stiff posture visibly relaxes. “You don’t need to be worried. None of us will ever do anything to hurt you.”

I want to believe him, but my phone feels like a weight in my boot as I think about that message I received, the one that said not to trust them. But those feelings slightly dwindle as he extends his hand toward me.

“Come with me,” he says.

I place my hand in his. “Where?”

He carefully pulls me to my feet then places his hands on my waist to steady me. “We’re just moving back a ways so we’re out of sight.”

I turn to walk back farther into the cabin, but he grips my waist and scoops me up in his arms. I hurriedly latch my legs around his waist and loop my arms around the back of his neck.

“What’re you doing?” I sputter.

“Making sure I don’t hurt you,” he says as he walks forward, toward the back wall.

“How would me walking on my own do that?”

“You might hurt your leg more. Besides, I like taking care of you.” With that, he leans forward and unites his lips with mine.

My stomach flutters with butterflies as I break the kiss. “But we’re in the middle of an apocalyptic game?” I whisper. “How can you even focus on kissing me?”

He kisses me again. “Kissing you relaxes me, baby. And, one day, when I’m lying there, dying, I want you to kiss me to my fucking death.”

“That is extremely morbid,” I whisper, my eyes drifting shut as his lips graze mine again.

“True,” he agrees, his breath dusting my face. “But we’re all sort of morbid, right? I mean, we have to be in order to survive this shit again.”

He’s right.

I know he is.

I’ve seen the images of me trying to hurt people.

Of toeing that line between life and death.

Of wanting to hurt people and stain my flesh with their blood.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I whisper.

His lips touch mine again, nearly stealing my breath away.

When he pulls away, I can barely get oxygen into my lungs. “You’re not dying yet,” I whisper.

“Can we pretend for a little while?”

I waver, chewing on my bottom lip. “You seriously want to kiss me right now? With everything going on? There’s, like, some sort of howling creatures in the distance and those shadow feeders …” I trail off, shuddering.

He bobs his head up and down. “I do. Besides, we’re not just kissing. We’re trying to get into those locked-up memories of yours.”

I swallow thickly. “By kissing?”

“And by talking.” He pauses, the sounds of howling flooding up the sky. “Unless you don’t want to.”

I suck in a shaky inhale. “No, it’s fine. I get that we need to do this so we can figure out this map situation.”

He laughs lowly. “Well, it’s not solely because of that, but we can pretend if you want.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, fusing his lips to mine. His tongue soon follows, parting my lips and sweeping inside.

I moan, clutching on to him, delving my fingernails into his flesh.

Howling continues to echo in the distance, but the longer we kiss, our tongues tangling together, the more the horrid noises dissipate.

Eventually, my back hits the wall. I softly gasp, and he lets out a groan before biting my bottom lip, grazing the flesh softly. I gasp again.

“Oh my God,” Hunter groans as he rocks his hips against mine.

Oh my God is right.

I whimper as a series of wonderful sensations burst through me—warmth, desire, ecstasy. This happened once before, back when we were high and he kissed me.

“Jesus,” he moans, lowering his head to my shoulder. He hesitates for a beat before thrusting his hips against mine again.

The same sensations burst through me again, and I dig my fingers deeper into him as I whimper.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers, brushing his lips against the spot on my neck where I’m sure he can feel my pulse racing.

My mind is too foggy to come up with a lie, so I nod and whisper, “Yeah.” Although, I don’t get how this is supposed to help me remember.

I’m about to ask him when he rocks his hips against mine again, and I moan out his name. He does the movement over and over until I can’t even think. Breathe. Exist. I’m pretty sure I dissolve and evaporate up into the night sky for a moment.

And part of me wants to stay there forever.

Just let me die here.

In this world of light and stardust.

Where nothing exist.

Not even the truth.

Eventually, though, I return to reality.

By the time I do, Hunter has leaned back and is watching me with a guarded expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks cautiously.

I bob my head up and down, realizing that I’m pretty sure I just had my first orgasm. And it was perfect, but like all perfects, it lasted only for a brief moment. And the second it fades, everything comes rushing back to me.

The piercing howls haunting the night.

The smell of death in the air.

The ache of the cut on my leg.

The burning taste of evil in the air.

And the image of the dead body that I tripped over. It’s all I can see.

“Baby?” Hunter’s voice slices through all of it and draws my attention to him.

The glimmer of the moonlight above casts across his face and highlights the worry on his features. He’s waiting for me to say something, I think. And I want to, but I can’t think of anything to say.

“You called me baby again,” I finally speak, sounding a bit breathless. “In fact, you’ve done that, like, ten times.”

The corner of his lip lifts up into an adorable half-smile. “I know.”

I pretend to be irritated. “I thought I told you not to.”

A smile curves across his lips. “I’ll call you whatever you want me to, if you keep moaning out my name like you did when I made you come apart.”

Warmth floods my cheeks. “I did not come apart,” I lie.

“No, you fucking did.” He reaches up with his free hand, brushing his fingers along my cheek. “And now you’re blushing.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I am not—”

He silences me by crashing his lips against mine. And, for a moment, it’s just him and me. Nothing else exists. But then he’s pulling away, his breath dusting against my face as he says, “I want to tell you a little bit about what I can remember of us, if that’s okay with you?”

I know this is what I need to do in order to hopefully spark a memory, but I’ll admit, with how nervous he sounds, I become kind of nervous, too. What if he tells me something bad?

Of course he is, Ravenlee.

Take a look around you.

But I need to be strong if we’re going to make it out of this alive.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“Okay,” he replies, uncertainty ringing in his tone. “I’m going to tell you about the first time I thought I lost you.”

My heart slams against my ribcage. “You thought you lost me more than once?”

He bobs his head up and down. “It was during the first time we played the game. There was this task we had to perform, and it was … it was awful. Then again, so was almost everything about the game.” Sighing quietly, he steps back but doesn’t go far. “Honestly, the only thing good about it was you.”

It’s such a cheesy thing to say, except he totally means his words. I can see it in the shadows of his eyes—the truth of his words.

“Sometimes I wondered if you were angel,” he adds, sweeping a strand of my hair out of my eyes and tucking it behind my ear.

His words make me squirm for several different reasons

“You sure you don’t mean the devil?” I try to crack a joke, mostly to alleviate my discomfort, but he doesn’t even so much as smile.

“You’re far from a devil, Ravenlee,” he whispers. “You always protected us. Always.”

I swear I see guilt flash across his face, but it happens so fast that I can’t be certain.

“I don’t really remember that. I wish I could.”

“I think you will one day. In fact, I think one day you’ll remember everything,” he assures me with an almost sad look in his eyes.

“You really think so?” I wonder, and he nods. “Then, why do you look so sad about it?”

He’s silent for a beat. “Because I know some of the stuff will probably be painful to remember.”

My heart rate increases. “I kind of figured as much, with what’s surrounding us now.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just simply looks at me. Then he asks, “Can you do me a favor?”

I hesitate, because I normally don’t like owing anyone favors, but ultimately, I nod. “Sure.”

He brushes his fingers along my cheekbone. “Whatever you remember or hear about our pasts, please come talk to us first if something seems questionable. Don’t … Just don’t take off, okay?”

I swallow hard. “You’re worrying me.”

“I’m not trying to.” He forces a smile. “I just don’t ever want to lose you again.”

Hearing him say stuff like that is a lot to take in. It’s strange because, somehow, throughout my life, I’ve gotten more use to criticism than positivity.

“Okay, I promise I’ll talk to you first if I ever feel like taking off,” I vow.

I can almost feel him relax. Then he shifts his weight and lowers himself to the floor, sitting down. He draws me down, too, positioning me on his lap so I’m sort of straddling him, but I have to keep my legs stretched out on each side of him.

“We were running through the forest,” he starts while dazing off over my shoulder. “We were playing the game, and I was holding your hand while we ran from something … To be honest, I can’t really recall what we were running from. It could’ve been from shadow feeders, but honestly, it felt like something else.

“Like maybe these things that are howling right now?”

He shakes his head and meets my gaze. “I don’t think so. Honestly, I think we were running away from a human.”

A shiver creeps up my spine. “Were they trying to kill us?” I’m not even sure why I say it. The words just sort of fall off my lips, as if my mind knows but doesn’t want to let me see.

“I think so.” He places a hand against my cheek. “But we were running, and I was trying to get us to the shelter, and then I blacked out … I don’t even remember how. When I woke up, I was lying in the woods and you were gone.” His breathing quickens. “Up until that point in my life, I’d never been so scared, even while we were being hunted … The idea of losing you … I wanted to die.”

His words send my own pulse spiking.

“I get that I was important to you guys, but how could losing me be scarier than being hunted? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, it doesn’t, but again, I think this has to do with your low self-esteem.”

“I really don’t think so—”

“I don’t think you understand yet how important you were—are—to us,” he says, his tone trembling slightly. “All any of us knew up until we met you was darkness, and pain, and torment, and abuse, and …” He pauses to take a shuddering breath. “Every day was torture, and we were about to give up, but then you were there, and you were so sweet, Ravenlee. You really were.”

He places his other hand on my other cheek. “You taught me that it was okay to cry. You held our hands, gave us hugs, taught us that it was okay to show that we were hurt.” His hands on my face are shaking, but his gaze is steady with mine. “I truly believe that, if we hadn’t met you, we would’ve never learned how to deal with any of the torment we dealt with on a daily basis. All we would know is anger. What kind of way is that to live? So, either we would’ve shut down and become our fathers or, ultimately, taken our own lives.” He removes his hands from my cheeks, takes my hand in his, and then gently kisses my palm. “That’s why I believed—and sometimes still do—that you were an angel sent to save us. Maybe that’s a crazy way to think, but honestly, I don’t believe it’s any crazier than anything else in our lives.”

He might be right, but that still doesn’t make me believe I’m some sort of angel. I don’t even think I believe those exist.

“And when I found you that day,” he continues on with his story while holding my hand. “I have never been so relieved in my entire life.”

“Where was I?” I wonder.

“See, that’s the really fucking weird part,” he says. “You were up here.”

“Okay? Why is that weird?”

“Because the ladder was missing. And it had been missing for a while before then. Someone had stolen it at some point.”

“That’s a little weird,” I agree. “But, if you’re implying that I really am an angel and sprouted some sort of secret wings so I could fly up here, you’re going to be sadly disappointed.”

“I don’t really think that,” he insists, but he kind of sounds like he does.

I’m about to assure him that I’m not when a memory sears through my mind. In it, the guys and me are running through a forest. Shadow feeders are chasing us, and I know I’ve seen this memory before. It’s not going to lead us to the answer to the map. I know this.

That’s not what I want to see.

Shift, memories, shift, like a bird sprouting its wings.

I’m not even certain why I think that. The words just sort of flow through my mind and, somehow, it fucking words.

“Hunter, I …” I start, but then I drift off into the memory, going so deep into it that it almost feels like I’m there.

Feathers float around me. Raven feathers.

“Look at what we’ve created,” the man says. “She’s perfect.”

I can’t see his face. All I can see are feathers. I can feel the darkness swimming around me, too, and it feels wrong.

I feel wrong.

“Her blood is powerful,” another man says. “The drugs worked so well with her.”

“Shall we see what else it can do?” the first man whisper with sick, twisted glee.

“Absolutely,” the other replies.

Cold, boney fingers wrap around me, and then I’m jerked up, the feathers in my vision fading and my surroundings coming into focus. What I see makes me absolutely horrified.

I’m in some sort of cellar, or maybe even a colosseum. The room is made of stone and pillars, and a sigil is carved into the ground, the pattern sort of like a star with wings and surrounded by engravings that look as though it belongs to some sort of hieroglyphic language.

And feathers are floating everywhere. I’m not even sure where they’re coming from.

“Cut her wrist and make her bleed!” a man exclaims.

He sounds like he’s right behind me, and I start to turn my head, but someone grabs, forces it forward, and then slices a knife across my throat.

I open my mouth to scream, but all that leaves my throat is a sputtered gurgle as blood drips from my lip and spews from the wound in my throat, gushing onto the stone floor. I’m a ways away from the sigil, yet my blood somehow pools together and snakes toward it, almost magnetizing to it. Once it reaches the sigil, it fills up the pattern.

“Look at that,” the guy behind me says in delight. “It worked. It fucking worked.”

Another man steps up beside me. I can’t see his face because of how dark it is. But his voice … it sounds familiar. I just can’t place from where.

“Good, then this is where we’ll start it,” the man says as he stares at my blood on the floor. “We’ll start the games here, and the select few will be the key players finding this place.” He turns his head and looks at me as I struggle to breathe. Eventually, it becomes impossible, and I can no longer get air into my lungs.

The other man lets me go, and I fall to the floor, dying in my own blood, with feathers floating around me—

I gasp in air, panic flooding my body as I try to figure out where I am.

Slowly, it comes back to me.

I’m in the treehouse …

Lying on the floor …

With the star-kissed sky above …

And Hunter, Zay, and Jax are all leaning over me, their faces all panic-stricken, and Jax and Hunter are arguing.

“What the fuck happened?” Jax snaps at Hunter. “We leave you with her for a few minutes, and she just passes out?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Hunter bites out, sounding in pain. “One minute, she was talking to me, and the next, she passed out.”

They continue to argue, and I want to tell them to stop, that I’m fine, but the words won’t leave my lips. It’s like my body still thinks it’s back in that memory, and I’m still dying on the floor.

Finally, Zay looks at me. When we lock eyes, he touches my face.

“Can you hear me?” he asks quietly, sketching a path down to my jawline.

Worry is stirring through him, and his tone is unsteady, as if he’s teetering on the edge of something, about to fall off.

I manage to bob my head up and down and croak, “Yes.”

My throat feels like sandpaper. Or, well, it feels like a throat that got sliced open and bled all over the place.

But, how did that happen? How did I not die from that?

He briefly shuts his eyes as he releases a breath of relief. Then he opens his eyes again and holds my gaze while saying, “Will you two shut the hell up? She’s awake.”

Jax and Hunter instantly stop arguing and snap their attention to me.

Like Zay, Hunter lets out a loud exhale. He’s on his knees, and with the moonlight hitting against his back, he almost looks like a statue.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Jax asks. He’s kneeling right beside my head, his eyes like shadows. Just like the man from the memory’s face was. I’m not sure why I notice that.

“I …” I suck in a breath then exhale shakily. “I know how to access the map.”

“Shit, really?” This is from Hunter.

Nodding, I manage to sit up. They all lean back to give me room, but Jax places a hand against my back. “I … I think I have to die.”