The Raven Game by Jessica Sorensen

Raven

I’m in the padded room again and, while there are no windows, I swear I feel someone watching me.

“Has she been reprogrammed yet?” A deep male voice floats through from the other side of the door.

“Yes … At least, as far as we know,” someone replies. The doctor, I’m guessing, because the voice sounds like his. “However, we have reached a few hiccups. Apparently, one of the side effects has given her some sort of temporary immortality. She can bleed and everything, but after her body runs completely dry, it just refills with blood.”

“Okay … I don’t see why that’s a problem,” the man with the deep voice replies. “In fact, I think we could use this to our benefit, if you can replicate it on someone else.”

“That can be done,” the doctor assures him. “However, I’m going to need to run more tests. There’s also a flaw in her assassination drive. If she’s feeling strong emotions, she can snap out of her hypnotic trance, so we won’t be able to control her if that happens.”

“Well, you better fix it, or you’ll be my first subject for the immortality test.”

“Sir, it may take a while to perfect the drug. And there could be side effects that we need to work out.”

“I don’t see how this is my problem,” the man replies in an eerily cold tone. “I hired you because you were the best at reconstructing and creating drugs that are tailored to precise tastes. I paid you a lot of money and, in return, I expect my products to be perfect. My business is relying on this, so don’t screw it up, Draven. If you do, you’ll be taking the first injection, whether the flaws are worked out or not.”

“Yes, sir.” The fear is evident in Draven’s tone.

A handful of seconds tick by, and then the door opens up. Light spills into the room, blinding me, and I have to blink to see anything. Eventually, I do see a shadowy figure reentering the room …

“Hello, my lovely bird,” he says to me. “It’s time to make you fly.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Yes,” he says with glee in his voice, something that was nonexistent when the other man was around.

He reaches for me, and I want to scream, but the only noise that escapes my mouth is a whimper.

“Raven … please, honey, open your eyes,” someone whispers in my ear. “Come on … come on …”

“Open your eyes, little bird,” he whispers as he touches my face. “I want to see those pretty eyes of yours. I’m not supposed to touch, but I want to so badly.”

“Raven, open your eyes.”

“Little bird, open your eyes.”

“Please, open your—”

I suck in a huge breath of air as my eyes fly open. Panic sets in as I struggle to get my bearings, but nothing looks familiar, and I’m lying on a stone floor.

I sit up and scoot back until my back slams against a wall. My chest rises and crashes with my sharp breaths as I frantically glance around at the domed ceiling, the lantern lights on the brick walls, and Zay, kneeling in front of me with so much worry in his eyes that he’s almost unrecognizable.

“Easy,” he says with his hands lifted in front of him.

He’s still wearing the same outfit—dark grey pants; a black, short-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt; and a red tie—but a bit of dirt is on the fabric, and he has a cut on his hairline. It takes me a moment to process what happened.

The forest …

The dead body …

The treehouse …

The card …

The orgasm …

Blacking out …

“You’re okay,” Zay tells me. “It’s just me.”

I take a few more shallow breaths as the fogginess lifts from my brain and I return to reality. The sounds of voices—a lot of them—suddenly rushes over me like a crashing wave. I glance to my right, which is a hallway that I can tell leads to some sort of room, and I can make out figures standing in the entryway.

I return my gaze to Zay. “Where are we?” My voice sounds raspy, like I just spent an entire night smoking weed. “And, how did we get here? The last thing I remember is being in the treehouse and my blood showing us that we were supposed to go down the tree. Then I … Did I black out?”

He nods. “We’re not sure why. It could’ve been from the stress or …” He stops himself, obviously keeping something from me.

“Whatever it is, tell me,” I demand.

I expect him to rise to the challenge of my demand, but he tenses instead as voices echo louder through the domed ceiling hallway. He flicks a glance at the entryway, and I track his gaze. People are heading our way, which seems to cause his tension to magnify.

He pushes to his feet and offers me his hand. “Come with me. We need to get you cleaned up before the ceremony starts.”

So, we made it to the place where the ceremony is taking place. We made it through the forest with the monsters. And yet, I can’t remember a single part of it.

“How did I get here?” I ask, not taking his hand. “Did someone carry me?”

“I did.”

I’m not surprised by this, but what I don’t get is why I can’t remember much and why he’s not telling me much.

“Raven.” He sighs. “Just take my damn hand.”

I shouldn’t. I should demand answers, but I’m tired, and I do want to clean up the blood that’s on my leg. Not to mention the wound that wasn’t properly taken care of. So, I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. My muscles ache in protest, but I refuse to look weak as I attempt to stand steadily.

“Where’s Jax and Hunter?” I ask as I dust some dirt off my shirt.

“They’re out in the main room, making appearances and also trying to make sure no one notices that we aren’t there.” He pulls me closer to him as the people heading toward us get nearer. Then he lowers his voice and leans in to whisper in my ear, “We didn’t want too many people seeing you passed out, because it makes us look weak, and that’s the last thing we need right now.” He straightens then but rests his hand against the small of my back, right as the people reach us.

They’re two guys and one woman. They all look close to our age and are dressed in all red with a splash of grey. The girl has long, blonde hair, and her lips are stained red, like mine. The guys both have dark hair, although one is scruffier. Both guys are muscular and covered in tattoos, and the girl is short and petite.

“Zay,” the scruffier guy greets Zay with a plastic smile. “We were wondering where you were. Thought it was weird you weren’t with Jax and Hunter. I mean, usually you guys are attached at the hip.” He continues to smile, but it’s flat, not reaching his eyes. “I did see that you have your fourth again. Congrats on that.” His tone sounds anything but happy for him, and when he glances at me, I detect a hint of hatred in his eyes.

Not sure why.

As he returns his attention back to Zay, the other two start to size me up. The woman looks annoyed with my presence, but the guy … well, he’s looking at me in a way that I remember the doctor looking at me.

I struggle not to squirm, but it’s bugging me. And worse, my discomfort must be evident because a smirk curls at his lips.

“We’re not attached at the hip,” Zay replies flatly. “But I’m glad you think you know us so well, Braden. You’ve never been that bright, though, something you proved in grade school when you thought you could join our group. It was hilarious at best watching you follow us around like a fucking lovesick puppy.”

Braden’s lip twitches, his fingers curling into fists, his knuckles cracking. “I never wanted to be part of your dumbass group. I was just trying to gather intel for my father.”

“Sure you were,” Zay replies in a mocking tone. “Because your dad trusts you so much. He doesn’t think you’re a pathetic loser who disgraces the family name on a daily basis when you cower out of every challenge thrown your way. Or cry to your mother when someone threatens you.”

Something dark and sinister flashes in the guy’s eyes. “At least I have a mother.”

I expect Zay to lose his shit, but he doesn’t.

“I wouldn’t go bragging about that, considering your mother has sucked almost everyone’s dick in town.”

Braden looks like he’s going to burst into flames, his face turning red.

I remember the time, in the classroom, when I sat in Zay’s seat. He came at me with such arrogance when he told me to move from his seat, like he expected me to fear him the moment he spoke. I didn’t, but I can clearly see why a lot of people are afraid of him. He doesn’t even react to anything that’s been said to him, and yet he seems to know everything that’ll make Braden squirm.

“Fuck you, Zay,” the guy spits in his face. “You think you’re so above everyone because of who your father is, but I assure you, once we win this game, your father is going to destroy you.” With that, he spins on his heels and strides down the hallway, in the direction he came from.

The girl’s gaze lands on Zayden, a smile playing at her lips. “If you need your cock sucked during breaks in the game, come find me.” She blows him a kiss then smirks at me before sauntering after Braden.

The other guy, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me, makes no effort to follow them.

“So, this is Raven all grown up.” He sticks the tip of his tongue into his lip ring like he’s literally trying to tongue fuck the metal loop. “She’s pretty … You should let me take a go at her.”

Wait … What?

“Back off, Elijah,” Zay bites out, but I notice he’s less confident with this Elijah guy. Or maybe he just doesn’t care as much that I’m the one getting insulted.

Elijah doesn’t even so much as blink, his gaze searing into me in a way that makes my stomach twist with nausea.

“Come on, Zay,” he continues. “I’ll pay you, if that’s what you need. Honestly, it could be beneficial to your group if you just let me have her as a favor. I’d owe you, and that could come in useful during the games.”

My fingers unconsciously curl into fists as I part my lips for a snarky comment, and my fist is beyond ready to stop him from being able to speak for a while. But the words die on my tongue as Zay pinches my side.

What the hell?

“We’ll have to pass on that,” he says formally to Elijah. “And we have a few things to attend to before the ceremony starts, so please, excuse us.”

With that, Zay steers us in the opposite direction of where Braden and the woman wandered off. The heels of my boots click against the stone as we make our way down the hallway and passed shut doors. The farther we walk, the quieter it gets, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not alone. When I peer over my shoulder, I see Elijah hasn’t budged from his spot, his gaze trained on me.

I turn back around and mutter, “That guy is fucking creepy.”

“He’s more than fucking creepy,” Zay mumbles, stopping us in front of a door. He opens it up, ushers me inside, and then shuts the door behind us. “He’s a psychopath.”

The area we’re standing in is dark and small, with the same brick walls and high ceiling as outside, but a trail of light drifts from out of a doorway that’s farther inside the room.

“More than the Raven Three?” The words sort of just fall off my tongue.

Old habits die hard, I guess. Although, is it really an old habit, because I don’t remember feeling this way about the guys before. From what I can recall, anyway.

Speaking of old memories, I need to tell Zay about what I saw while I was passed out.

“Yes, smartass, more than us,” Zay replies as he glides the lock over then turns to face me. “Elijah is a real psychopath, like he could be diagnosed with it. And I hate that he’s already taken an interest in you.” He strides past me, heading deeper into the room.

“You didn’t seem like you hated that he had,” I mumble as I limp after him.

“I had to seem that way.” He steps into the light and faces me, loosening his tie. “If he knows how … how important you are to us, he’ll become more obsessed with getting his hands on you.”

His words should be terrifying, but I’m more snagged on his remark about me being important to them.

“More obsessed?” I question as I step into the lighted area, which turns out is sort of a communal bathroom. It’s huge, with cathedral-like ceilings, porcelain sinks, granite countertops, gothic chandeliers, and black tile flooring. The walls have brick alcoves, and in the far back corner is a glass wall that leads to the showers. “You say that like he already is obsessed with me.”

His sighs heavily then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Back when we were younger, Elijah used to follow you around.”

My brows knit. “I don’t remember this, and it seems like something I’d remember.”

“You might not.” He lowers his hand and looks me. “He was really weird about it. He would follow you in the shadows and watch you from a distance, but he never did come around you, which is why we never really did anything about it. We probably should’ve since, over the years, Elijah has gotten a reputation for being a full-blown stalker. Well, that amongst a bunch of other things.” A strange look crosses his face that makes me shiver.

“Does he still just stalk in the shadows? Because that doesn’t seem that bad,” I ask with hope.

When he hesitates to answer, nervousness creeps through me.

“Tell me what he does.”

Zay slowly shakes his head. “It might be better if you don’t know.”

I cross my arms as annoyance prickles through me. How dare he decide what I should and shouldn’t know?

“Oh, come on, Zayden. Where’s that scary guy who told me all the ways he was going to hurt me if I didn’t listen to him?” I step toward him. “Or the guy who made me jump off that bridge?”

“I didn’t make you jump—”

“Or the guy who told me the nursey rhyme?” I continue, inching closer to him. “Where’s the guy who likes to see me get scared?” I’m taunting him, and part of me isn’t a huge fan of it. But the other part wants to know what may be in store for me with this Elijah guy.

I’m standing close enough to him now that I can smell his scent—cologne and cigarette smoke, along with a hint of smoke, probably from the fires outside. His jaw is taunt, and he has his arms crossed, as if he’s struggling not to lose his cool.

“Come on, Zayden; don’t you want to see that fear in my eyes that you seem to love?” I reach up and pat his cheek.

I might be crossing a line. It’s hard to tell with Zay since he’s so hot and cold. And I can’t read him right now, which is a little unnerving, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

Then he’s shifting his weight and uncrossing his arms as he leans in toward me, and I think, Here he goes. He’s going to tell me a scary bedtime story about Elijah the monster, who’s going to stalk me from the shadows. Or maybe he even slips out of them now and will try to claw my flesh apart.

“Why do you love testing my patience so much?” he whispers, his breath fanning across my face as he drags the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip.

“I …” This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting from him, so it throws me off my game.

“I don’t want to scare you anymore,” he murmurs as he traces his thumb back and forth along my bottom lip, his gaze tracking the movement.

I work to keep my breathing under control. “Then, what do you want to do?”

Wait … What did I just say to him?

I’m about to backtrack, because it honestly sounds like I’m flirting with him, but Zay speaks first.

“I want to do a lot of things,” he whispers. “I want to …” He lowers his hand from my mouth, and I expect him to step back. Instead, panic flickers across his face. Then he moves forward and presses his lips to mine.

Zay never kisses on the mouth.

Katie told me that on my first day of school.

So, why is he kissing me? Maybe Katie was lying about that?

He doesn’t try to part my lips with his tongue. He just stands there with his hands on my waist and his lips pressed to mine. A few heart-slamming seconds go by, and then he pulls back. His eyes are shut, and small breaths rush past his lips.

“Zay,” I say carefully, sensing he might be having some sort of internal struggle. “Are you okay?” Did I push him too far?

He gives a shaky nod then lowers his forehead to mine. “I’m fine … I really am … I just …” His fingers delve into my sides and press against the wounds where my uncle branded me the other night with brutally ugly words that sometimes feel true. “I haven’t … I don’t …” He kisses me again, the movement a bit fumbling, but I think I might like it better that way. It makes him seem more real instead of a guy made of hard, chipped, angry stone.

“Oh my God,” he moans then kisses me again. This time, he parts my lips and slips his tongue inside.

I fist the bottom of his shirt to keep myself from stumbling.

Zay doesn’t kiss on the mouth.

Zay apparently does kiss on the mouth.

Though, it kind of seems like it might’ve been a while since he has, because his moves are a bit shaky. Not that it’s a bad kiss. It’s not. At all. In fact, every time his tongue tangles with mine, it makes me feel like I’m about to burst into flames. And when he backs me up to the sink area, scoops me up, and sets me down on the counter, I think maybe I did and this is what death is like.

Maybe I am dead.

Perhaps this is all just a dream.

Whatever it is or isn’t, I quickly stop caring as Zay starts really kissing me. His hands are all over me, wandering up and down my sides, gripping the hem of my skirt, sliding up my thighs. I finally latch my legs around his waist so he can get closer, and when he does, he grinds his hips against mine, groaning. I groan, too, digging my fingernails into his shoulder blades to the point where I probably scratch him through his shirt.

His entire body shudders, and I start to pull back when he breaks the kiss.

His eyes are filled with a frenzy, and his solid chest is rising and crashing as he whispers, “Do that again.”

“Do what?” I’m not quite sure what he means.

He leans toward me, closing his eyes. “Scratch my back again.”

So, Zay likes pain? For some reason, I’m not surprised by this.

I hesitate, unsure if I can do this, but ultimately, I decide, fuck it, and drag my fingers down his back, hard enough that he feels it through the fabric of his shirt.

He moans, his lips colliding with mine so forcefully that our teeth clank painfully. However, I barely register the pain as he kisses me deeply while rocking his hips against mine, over and over again until I can barely think straight. All I can think about is the wonderful sensations throbbing through me, the way his hands are on my thighs, clutching me so hard that I know I’m going to have bruises there. But, at the moment, I don’t give a damn. Let me be bruised. Let me be cut. Let me chase those damn stars again.

And that’s exactly what I do as Zay’s hips unite with mine one final time and an explosion of heat bursts through my body, my vision filling with so much light that I swear I’m never going to see again.

When my vision returns, Zay is barely moving, his head resting in the crook of my neck, the rush of his loud breathing filling up the silence.

I sense it almost instantaneously—something is off. I’m not sure if it’s bad, though.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

He unevenly bobs his head up and down, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. “Are you?”

I nod, the feel of his soft kiss making my heart do all sorts of weird thing that makes me feel lightheaded.

We remain that way for a while, to the point where I begin to think that he’s never going to let me go. Not that I mind. Well, if it weren’t for the fact that we were in a bathroom, at a place that a deadly game ceremony is about to take place. And I have questions. So many damn questions.

“Zay, I need to know what’s going to happen,” I say softly. “Not just with Elijah, but with the ceremony and stuff. And I have things to tell you. Something that I remembered when I—”

He hastily slants back and places his finger against my lips. “Shhh … We need to be careful with what we say. Like when we were in the house, outside of the soundproof room.”

“You think this place is bugged?” I whisper, peering around for cameras.

“We’re not sure yet, but knowing our fathers, there’s a good chance.” He lowers his finger from my lips, gliding it down my chin, to my neck, before lowering it to his side. Then he sweeps his gaze across me. “We need to get you cleaned up before the ceremony, and that includes stitching this up.” He looks down at my wrapped-up knee. “You should climb in the shower and clean off all the dirt.”

My eyes widen. “You want me to shower here? I don’t know where here is.”

“It’s a building located in the middle of fucking nowhere, on a piece of Jax’s father’s many acres. And the building is actually underground.”

My lips form an O. “That’s a little weird, right?”

He lifts a shoulder, his gaze still on my leg, his fingers fiddling with the hem of my skirt. “It makes sense. Otherwise, we would’ve already known it was here. Honestly, none of us can remember the building, so we think it might be a new place from the last game we played. I’m not sure why they decided to do it underground this time, other than maybe they want to keep it concealed.”

“That would make sense …” My words fade as he slides his fingers up my skirt just a bit.

I’m about to ask him what he’s doing when a frown forms on his face.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” he asks, blinking up at me.

I look down at my legs, at the red welt starting to form where he pressed his fingertips into my flesh.

“It didn’t really hurt,” I promise him.

He shakes his head, his jaw ticking. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you so hard.”

I study him with my teeth sunk into my bottom lip. Do I dare say what I’m thinking aloud? I mean, he’s not Hunter, so he won’t tease me. And it might alleviate some of the guilt in his eyes.

“I kind of liked it,” I admit, causing him to snap his gaze up to mine.

His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. “Is that the fucking truth? Or are you lying to me to make me feel better?”

I arch a brow. “Does that seem like something I’d do?”

He wavers. “That all depends.” Guilt continues to mask his expression and, weirdly, I find myself almost desperate to make it go away.

“You know, for someone who gets into a lot of fights and makes a lot of threats, I find it a little surprising that you’re feeling bad over giving me a few welts.” I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “To be honest, I kind of thought you’d like doing it.”

He hesitates. “Not to you.” Another pause. “Pain’s more of Jax’s thing, anyway.” He sighs then mutters, “I don’t even really have a thing.”

I’m not sure what he means by it, if he just cares enough about something to have a thing or if he’s not done enough to have one. The latter doesn’t make sense, though. Katie told me that Zay is into some weird stuff sexually. But again, she could’ve been lying.

Silence remains as he softly traces the welts on my thighs with his fingertips.

“We need to get you in the shower,” he finally says. “We’re running low on time.” He quietly sighs then steps away from me.

The distance he puts between us makes my body feel cold, but warmth kisses me again when he takes my hands and carefully helps me off the counter.

“It seems a bit weird to shower here,” I say as I get my balance.

He settles his hands on my waist. “Well, it’s important that we enter the ceremony looking like we didn’t just run for our lives in the woods.”

“But we did.”

“We don’t want to look like that, though. Presentation is important, and we want to appear collected and put-together, like what happened in the forest didn’t affect us.”

“What did happen? I mean, after I blacked out … Did you see any of those monsters?”

“No. We were lucky. From what I heard, a lot of the other groups got glimpse of a few of them.”

“What about the person who died?”

Tension creeps into his features. “We haven’t heard anything about that yet, but I’m guessing we will. In fact, my bet is the bosses will use it as a scare tactic during the ceremony. They’ll probably even show us footage.”

I cringe. “I really don’t want to see that.”

“I really don’t want to see that, either, but—”

“I know,” I cut him off with sigh. “Appearances are important.”

He cracks the smallest of smiles, throwing me off balance, to the point where I have to grip his sides to keep myself from falling.

He steadies me with his hands on my waist. It seems like every movement he makes is in concern for me. But why? I mean, I get that we have history, but only days ago, he despised me.

“Why are you being so nice to me now?” I find myself asking.

His smile falters. “I …” He swallows hard and almost looks as if he’s in pain. “Because you’re you.”

I’m unsure what he means by that, and I don’t get the opportunity to ask, when someone knocks on the door.

He stiffens then drifts a hand toward where I know he keeps his knife.

“Dude, open up. It’s me.” Hunter’s voice floats through the other side of the lock door.

Zay’s brows pull together as he steps away from me, striding over to the door and opening it up.

“How did you know we were in here?” he asks as Hunter slips into the room.

His blond hair somehow still manages to look styled, but his light grey shirt, with dark stitching, and black pants look a bit wrinkled.

“Jax tracked your phone … We were getting worried,” Hunter explains, quickly sweeping the room with his gaze and landing on me. Relief cascades over his features. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He strides toward me, not stopping until his arms are enveloped around me. “You were out for so long that we started to think …”

“I was dead,” I finish for him, the memory I had branding my mind like a hot iron rod. “I need to tell you something that I saw while I was passed out. Zay doesn’t want me to talk about it, though, ’cause he’s worried we’re being bugged. But I think it’s important that you guys know.”

He slants back, his eyes searching mine. Then he peers around at the room, looking for what, I’m not sure. But ultimately, his gaze settles on Zay. “Can you go find Jax? I don’t think it’s a good idea for all three of us to be MIA.”

“Why can’t you?” That familiar irritation has returned to his tone.

Nice Zay is no longer here.

“Because I’m going to do something,” he informs him. “Well, if Raven gives me permission.”

“She needs to get cleaned up and get out there,” Zay stresses with his lean, tattooed arms crossed. “The ceremony will be starting soon. Plus, we should have as much eyes on everyone as we can.”

“I know. And I’m going to get her cleaned up.” Hunter’s hand settles on my back. “But if she says she has something important to tell us, then we need to hear it.”

“It’s too risky here,” Zay bites out. “You know that.”

“Not if we talk somewhere with a lot of noise,” Hunter points out, brushing his finger along my spine and eliciting tingles to kiss across my flesh

“Where the fuck are you going to do that?” Zay questions, confusion lacing his tone.

Hunter sucks his lip ring into his mouth, nibbling on the metal. “In here.” Confusion flickers through me until Hunter adds, “In the shower.”

My eyes pop wide. “No way.” I shake my head because no … just no.

For starters, I’d have to take my clothes off in front of him. And also … Well, I think just having to take my clothes off in front of him is a big enough reason.

“No,” Zay snaps, on the same page as me.

Well, I’m not sure if he’s on the same page as me, or if he’s just doing that possessive thing again.

“That’s not really your decision, Zay,” Hunter says then lands his blue eyes on me. “Baby, I know it’s a lot, but the sound of the running water should be loud enough to conceal our conversation. Plus, you need to clean up, anyway.”

I swallow loud enough that I cringe. “I don’t … I don’t think I can get naked in front of you.”

His face is comforting as he tucks a strands of hair out of my face, the ring on his finger kissing my cheek. “We don’t have to get completely undressed. And you don’t have to get completely underneath the water. Just enough to clean off.”

Which means I’ll still have to be in my underwear in front of him. If I was normal, I think I’d be okay with this, since my bra and panties don’t reveal much more than a swimsuit would. But that’s the thing—I’m not normal. My body is carved with all of my insecurities.

“I don’t want you to see my scars.” And yes, I know he’s seen them before, but this is different. The words will be on display. “Again, I mean.”

He leans in, touching my face. “I won’t make you do it, but I just want to say that you won’t be the only one showing the thing that haunts your nightmares and feeds your body with anguish on a daily basis. I know the mental pain they feed you—I know the shame.” He lowers his voice to a soft whisper. “I know how you’re feeling. I really do.”

I don’t think he’s lying to me, either. He told me when he showed me his scars that no one has really seen them.

I don’t want to do it, but I need to tell him what I saw. It feels so important, like a plaguing worry that won’t go away.

Be brave, Raven. Suck it the fuck up and be that girl who doesn’t give a fuck.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” I aim for a confident tone, but fail epically.

“Are you sure?” he doubles-checks.

I press my lips together and bob my head up and down. “I’m sure.”

He nods, too, but I’m not sure if it’s for me or for himself. Then he returns his gaze to Zay.

“Go find Jax, okay? Let him know we’ll be there in a minute. And maybe one of you can try to find some disinfectant and stitching equipment so we can stitch her up.”

Ugh, I almost forgot about that part.

When Zay doesn’t say anything, I turn to look at him.

He’s shaking his head, his fists clenched at his sides. “I can’t,” he bites out.

“What? You want to stay here and watch then?” Hunter says jokingly. But when Zay doesn’t reply, his gaze flicking to me, and Hunter’s brows rise toward his hairline “Okay, I said that as a joke, but now I’m really wondering if you do, which is really strange because it doesn’t sound like you at all.” His attention dance between the Zay and me. “Unless maybe something happened between you two before I walked in here.” Intrigue sparkles in his eyes.

My skin is hot, and the heat only increases as Zay’s dark eyes continues to remain fixed on me.

“Well, holy shit,” Hunter mumbles, like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

I don’t get it. Both Hunter and Jax have done stuff with me, so what’s the big deal if Zay did? And Hunter said he didn’t care if Zay or Jax touches and kisses me..

No one speaks. The room is so silent I can hear the sound of Zay’s breathing—quick intakes that indicate he’s anxious.

“Okay,” Hunter finally says, shattering the silence. “I’m glad that happened. I seriously am.” He speaks to Zay. “But you’ve got to get it together for a second and go out with Jax and find a good first-aid kit while I get her cleaned up and hear what she has to say.”

Heavy reluctance is consuming Zay’s expression, and his boots remain glued to the floor.

Hunter lets out a frustrated breath. “Zay, man, you’ve got to learn how to deal with this.” He rakes his fingers through his chin-length, blond hair, making the strands go askew. “You can’t be with her twenty-four seven.”

“Can’t I?” Zay grumbles, lowering his gaze to the floor.

I’m not sure whether I like his possessiveness or not. What I do know is that both of the guys have stressed that we’re low on time. So, I decide to take matters into my own hands and walk to Zay.

“I swear I’ll be okay. Hunter will be with me, and remember how badass I was when I threw that knife at the shadow feeders head?” I toss him a cheeky grin, and he almost cracks a smile, but he hastily erases it. I internally sigh then, acting on a ghost of an instinct, I reach out and hitch my pinkie with his. “I swear to you that I’ll be okay. I pinkie swear.”

He looks down at our interlocked pinkies then to my eyes. A drop of awe is flickering in his pupils as he reaches up and brushes his knuckles across my cheek so softly, so carefully, and it’s so startling.

This is not how I thought he’d be. Zay has always seemed the roughest, so gentle just doesn’t seem like his thing. I’m not positive if it is his thing all the time, but in this moment, it’s clearly what he needs.

“You’ll lock the door behind me,” he says in a tone that lets me know it’s taking every ounce of willpower to say those words. It’s not a question, but more of a demand.

Normally, I’d be all over going toe-to-toe with him about this, but he looks like he’s about to latch on to me and never let me go.

“I promise I will,” I assure him, squeezing his pinkie again.

The muscle in his jaw spasms as he gives a tense nod then spins for the doorway. “Lock the door,” he calls over his shoulder before striding out of the room.

I start to hobble toward the door when Hunters wraps warm fingers around my arm, stopping me.

“I’ll get it.” He whisks by me and to the door where he slides the lock over. Then he turns, facing me, but doesn’t rush back. He takes his time returning to me, and his blue eyes, that usually radiate confidence, convey a hue of uncertainty.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches me.

My brows furrow. “Hey … What’s with the causal greeting?”

“Hmmm …” is all he says, brushing his fingers along my skin so softly and tenderly that I can’t stop my eyelashes from fluttering.

His lips twitch as he notices.

“You’re so beautiful. And before you go protesting about that, just know that I’m going to say it, like, all the time, because despite the fact that you don’t believe me, you need to know the truth. And the truth is that you’re so damn fucking beautiful. And one day, when this hell of a life is long behind us, I’m going to capture every inch of your beauty with my camera.” He drops his hand from my cheek.

My heart is pounding so rapidly that my legs feel wobbly.

“Well, thank you for saying that, but I don’t feel very beautiful right now.” My gaze strays to the mirror on the wall that I’ve been avoiding.

I cringe at the sight of the blood on my legs and the hole in my knee-high socks. My black velvet skirt and off-the-shoulder top are dusted with dirt, and my boots are a bit scuffed. A few twigs are in my hair, yet my ponytail weirdly remained in place, along with the red ribbon Hunter tied in it.

“You’re always beautiful,” Hunter disagrees, moving up behind me. “Your eyes are probably my most favorite part. They’re so damn big and gorgeous.” He reaches around and brushes the pad of his thumb along my lips. “I have to say, though, these lips are pretty damn sexy, too.”

“It’s just the red lipstick.” I resist a shiver from the feel of his chest pressed against my back. “I can’t believe none of it wore off. It must be long-lasting or something.”

He fleetingly sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “I wonder if it’d wear off on my cock if you sucked me.”

My eyes pop wide, and his lips curl into a grin.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He carries my gaze in the mirror. “I’d get you off, too. I think about it all the time—what it’d feel like to have my face between your legs …” He grazes his teeth along my earlobe, still holding my gaze in the mirror.

My eyes involuntarily shut as I suck in a breath.

I hear him softly laugh, and then he moves away from my back. When I open my eyes, he’s in front of me and dropping to his knees.

Wait … Is he really going to …?

“What’re you doing?” I whisper, thinking about how it felt when Jax fingered me. While it felt so good, as both Hunter and Zay have said multiple times, we don’t have a lot of time.

“Taking off your boots.” He reaches for the zipper then drags it down. “Figured it’d be easier if I did it because of your knee.” He flashes me the most adorable half-smile that I’ve ever seen.

“Oh,” I manage to get out as he slips off my boot.

My phone falls out, and I tense, remembering the message I got right before we ran into the woods.

Hunter sets the phone aside and continues on with his playful conversation. “What’d you think I was doing?” he teases with a wicked glint in his eyes, totally getting off on this.

“Nothing,” I lie, gripping his shoulders to keep my balance as he slips off my knee-high sock, his knuckles grazing a path down the inside of my leg.

His smile broadens as he sets the boot aside then moves to the other one. “You sure about that?” he questions in that teasing tone that warns me he’s probably about to say something that’ll make me blush. “Or you think I was going lick you like I just said?”

I narrow my eyes at him, but I’m more embarrassed than irritated with him. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Liar,” he says as he unzips the other boot and takes it off, along with my sock. “I want to, you know, so fucking badly, but we don’t have a lot of time.” He chews on his lip for a second before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the inside of my uninjured knee. “Nah, I take that back.” His grin returns as he looks up at me. “I don’t want to just lick you. I want to fuck you, too.”

Goddammit, why does he have to say that shit?

And why do I have to be curious about everything he says?

Desire spills through my veins as I blast him with a dirty look that misses the mark terribly due to the fact that my cheeks are more than likely bright red. He just dazzles me with an innocent look.

“What? I’m just telling you the truth.” He removes the holster from my thigh, stands up, and drags his hand up my leg as he does … all the way up my leg to the top of my thigh. “I like being able to say whatever I want in front of you.” He pauses, sliding his hand around and resting it just below my ass. Then he grows serious. “If you want me to stop, though, I will. And I’ll stop with the touching, too, if you want me to.”

When I don’t say anything right away, he begins to withdraw his hand. And I imagine what it’d feel like for him not to touch me anymore or tell me things that make my skin warm. It’s easier to picture, that cold touchless place, because it’s been my life for years.

I realize that. That as much as I feel like I’m walking on a wobbly tightrope with him, it’s worth the risk of falling if it means never having to go back to that icy, lonely world that I used to live in. If I’m really being honest with myself, I may crave the unsteadiness of it.

“No … I don’t want you to stop,” I admit, feeling a bit squirmy.

He freezes, and a drop of surprise sparkles in his eyes. “Yeah?” When I nod, he returns his hand to the back of my thigh. “Okay, then.”

“Okay, then,” I agree, but I’m not totally certain what I’m agreeing to, since he’s said he wants to do a lot of things to me.

“I’m going to take your skirt off, okay?” he says in a careful tone.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I’m freaking out on the inside, but on the outside, I nod.

He slides his hand up over my ass and to the zipper on the back of the shirt. The sound of it coming undone is heart-stutteringly loud and echoes against the domed ceiling and brick walls. Seconds later, it drops to the floor, and I’m left standing there in my black, lace panties that I know he had to have picked since they were included in the outfit I’m wearing, and it just seems like something Hunter would do. Strangely, Hunter doesn’t look down. His eyes remain on me instead as he slips his fingers underneath the hem of my top.

“Arms up,” he says.

I do what he says. I don’t even know why. Usually, I hate being ordered around. Right now, though, I honestly don’t mind. That might be because Hunter isn’t naturally bossy. He’s sweet, and charming, and careful with me. Out of all the guys, he is definitely the one I trust the most.

It takes a bit of effort, but he manages to lift the shirt off my head. As the cold air spills across my skin, I instinctively wrap my arm around my waist to hide my scars.

Hunter makes no comment of it as he bends down to take his boots off. Once he’s done, he stands up and unzips his pants. I try not to look, to respect him like he did me, but my gaze keeps dropping as he slips off his pants. He’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs, and it’s clear that he’s turned on.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Yeah, apparently, my brain is on repeat today.

When he reaches for the hem of his shirt, I tear my gaze away and look at him. Hints of nervousness haunt his features, but he’s trying to keep that hidden as he sucks in a breath, unbuttons, and shucks.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He lets out a soft laugh that sounds all sorts of wrong. “I honestly don’t fucking know.”

I didn’t expect him to be so painfully honest, so I offer some honesty in return. “My heart’s racing really fast.”

He rubs his lips together then reaches for my arm that’s covering my scars.

“I-I don’t know if I can do it.” I don’t know if I can let you see all that ugliness again.

“Trust me,” he whispers with his fingers wrapped around my wrist. He doesn’t pull it away, though, just lets his fingers rest there for a flutter of a heartbeat. Then, ever so gently, he pulls on my arm, and even though it feels like the scars are going to split open and weep out all the pain they hide, I let him. I let him so easily, which is more confusing than anything else that’s happened.

Which is saying a lot since I had a memory of dying.

By the time he has my arm all the way off my side, my heart is begging to die. I tell it shut the hell up, that it’s not a big deal. But the shitty part is my heart knows when I’m lying.

Hunter says nothing as his gaze drops to my side. It takes all of my effort to stay where I am, feet glued to the ice-cold marble floor as he skims his finger along the bottom of the mess of tangled, ugly scars marking my flesh, the spot that marks the last time my uncle managed to drag one of my insecurities out of my mind and spill it out through my blood.

Disappointment.

Hunter has seen my scars before, I remind myself over and over again. And yet, I may be even more anxious than the last time he saw them.

When he skims his finger along the bottom of the word again, my heart wants to stop.

Keep beating. Keep beating. Keep beating.I beg. Don’t let your stupid uncle win.

I inhale and exhale, reminding myself to breathe, but my lungs stutter as Hunter gets down on his knees in front of me again and places a soft kiss, right there, along one of the words.

Freak.

“You’re not a freak,” he whispers. He kisses the next word, Loser. “You’re not any of these things.” He peers up at me through his thick, dark eyelashes, and then he brushes his lip across the next word.

Hunter can try to convince me all he wants that this one isn’t true, but deep down, I think it is.

Murderer.

“You know that, right?” he asks, peering up at me again.

I smash my lips together and nod. My heart laughs at me, mocking me for being such a dirty little liar.

And Hunter? He fucking sees right through my bullshit.

“Ravenlee, you are not any of these things,” he insists with his hands on my waist, his blue eyes so focused as he peers up at me. “Your uncle did this because he wants you to believe it. It helps him be in control. And also, because he’s a sick fucking freak. But none of these words on your skin are true. You are funny, sassy, amazing, smart, and beautiful. And, one day, I’m going to draw up a tattoo filled with all sorts of poetic words that Jax will write, and we’ll ink them over these scars until all you can see is the truth permanently marked across your pretty flesh.”

I want to say a lot of thing in that moment. I want to tell him the truth is already there, that I’m none of those wonderful things he just said to me, but tears are burning my eyes, and I worry that, if I let any words spill out of my mouth, the tears will escape, too.

So, I utter something much easier. “Jax is a poet?”

He slants toward me and licks the smooth speck of flesh below my scars, causing me to jolt. Then he stands up, keeping his fingers encompassed on my waist.

“He is. You seem surprised by that.”

“I don’t know … I guess I just don’t see him as a poetic sort of guy. He seems too intense and scary.”

“Poets can be intense and scary. Think of all the dark shit Edgar Allen Poe wrote.”

“True.”

He searches my eyes. “So, you wanna do it then? Let us ink you with our souls?”

My heart is a lunatic inside my chest, but instead of revealing how deeply his words are basically inking my own soul, I cock a brow. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s the poet, Hunter Hathingford?”

A fragile smile touches his lips. Then he sketches a path down my cheekbone with his thumb. “You called me by my full name.”

“Yeah …?” Puzzlement creases my brow. “Why are you acting like that’s weird?”

“It’s not weird.” Another skim of the pad of his thumb. “It’s just been a long time since you called me that. A very long time.” He sweeps a lock of hair out of my eyes. “You never answered my question, though. You want us to ink you with our souls, baby?”

I press my lips together. Do I? I sort of do.

“I wouldn’t mind covering up those scars with a tattoo. In fact, I’d love to see ink there instead of those damn words. But, how do we even know we’re going to get out of this game alive—”

He presses his finger to my lips. “I’m going to stop you right there, because you will get out alive from this. I swear on my soul that you will.”

I want to ask him if that means him, Jax, and Zay will, too, since he didn’t specify that, but he steps back from me and distracts me with a simple statement.

“Now, let’s take a shower together.” He devilishly grins.

As sweltering heat whisks through my body, I clarify, “With what we’re wearing still on.”

He slips his tongue out and wets his lips, his tongue piercing clinking against his teeth. “Absolutely.” His eyes glint wickedly at me. “Unless you change your mind. Then I’ll be more than happy to get naked with you.” He winks at me, the old, joking Hunter returning.

How he can joke right now, I’m not sure. Will he still after I tell him about the memory I saw?

The answer remains unknown as he leads me toward the massive glass shower with his hands on my waist. My pulse is erratic, spiking higher with each step we take. By the time we’re in the shower, sweat is beading my skin. Thank God, he turns the shower on, because as the warm water sends steam into the air, it gives me an excuse to look sweaty.

Truthfully, it’s from being in the shower with him.

I hate that I’m this way. Hate that stupid things like being in showers with guys makes me jittery. It’s not like I want to be. In the heart of the truth that lies locked in my mind, I do want to be in here with him, though under different circumstances. I want to kiss him and for him to kiss me because it makes me feel damn good. And yet, this thing, this ball of ugliness that creeps around in the crevasses of my mind, keeps whispering forgotten memories to me that it won’t quite let me fully see but will allow me to feel it.

Tension.

Nervousness.

Panic.

I can feel yet another memory purring to me like a cat luring its prey into a dark hole.

“You’re so pretty, little bird,” the doctor whispers to me as he strokes my face. “I think I shall keep you and make you mine. No one will have to know.”

Every part of my body is locked up, and vomit burns at my throat as he drifts his hands downward …

My uncle is on me, looking down at me with desire in his eyes, as he presses the knife into my side. “You’re such a fucking slut.” He peels away my flesh with the blade. “Nobody will ever want you …”

“Lock her in the closet,” a guy whispers at a party. “You drugged her drink, right?”

“Baby.” Hunter brushes the back of his hand along the side of my face. “Where’s your head at?”

I blink from the memories and attempt to focus on the present, because it’s easier. And yeah, I know that sounds pretty damn weird to say, considering I’m in some sort of deadly game and may be some mutated thing due to a drug experiment. But fighting and anger are easier than looking into a past filled with men who put their hands on me without my permission.

No wonder I’ve forgotten so many damn things. It seems like almost all my memories are tainted.

Well, except for a few with the guys.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask Hunter as we walk through the forest.

The wind is blowing through my hair, and I can sense a storm coming. I hate storms. They always mean something bad is about to happen. But, right now, I feel okay. I always do whenever Hunter is with me.

“It’s nothing.” He smiles at me. “You’re just so pretty.”

Hunter is usually like this—so upfront and says whatever he feels. He’s never called me pretty, though, It makes me smile—

“You aren’t allowed to be happy, little bird,” the doctor whispers in my ear. “Never again, unless I say. And I’ll never say it. I want to break you, peel you apart, and cage you up so you always belong to me—”

I yank myself from the memory and whisper, “Shut up.” It’s not to Hunter, but to my goddamn brain that seems dead set on polluting my mind at the moment.

But why? What does this all mean? And why now?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I want some answers, but I also want to forget. It’s difficult to take everything in all at once.

Worry floods Hunter’s expression. “Where’s your head at, pretty raven? You look upset. Which I totally get. I know what’s happening is a lot to handle, but I promise everything’s going to be all right.” He swallows audibly as he plays with a strand of my hair. “Jax, Zay, and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you. I fucking swear to that.”

I take in his words as I take him in—the way the steam surrounds him, the way water drips down his face, beads his lips, makes a path down his scarred, lean chest and to his waist. My skin is so hot, and my brain is so heavy from these damn memories that are trying to eat away at me. I want to forget for a moment. I want to break free from them. I want to spread my wings and fly away to the night sky where maybe I’ll just never go back.

Why does my life have to be so brutal? Is it because I’m a murderer? Am I even human?

Hunter’s concern is magnifying as he glides his fingers down my jawline to my chin. “Raven, talk to me.” The fact that he called me by my real name shows how concerned he is.

“Little bird, you will be mine,” the doctor whispers as he kisses my chin, his fingers traveling down my neck. “You’ll always belong to me—”

“No, I won’t,” I mumble as I yank myself from the memory again, trying to focus on the present.

Something is triggering the memories. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe being in the shower with Hunter is causing it to surface. If so, it pisses me off.

Why does every emotional experience have to be tainted with the darkness of my past?

“You will be mine,” the doctor says.

Fuck you. This girl belongs to no one.

“Tell me what’s going on. What do you remember?” Hunter apparently knows what’s happening.

I don’t want to tell him. Not yet, anyway, because it makes me feel sick thinking about the memory and what I haven’t seen yet.

I look at Hunter, at his warm, blue eyes. His fingers are close to my mouth, brushing across my chin.

The next thing I do is partly out of anger to prove the memory wrong, that I don’t belong to the doctor, and the desire to prove to myself that my messed-up past doesn’t completely control me, that I can make cracks in the invisible cuffs that have been around my wrists for longer than I realized.

So, I open my mouth and suck on one of Hunter’s fingers.

While I usually try to act badass, I’m completely out of my element. I’m not sure if what I’m even doing is sexy or just weird.

Hunter’s eyes slightly widen in surprise, and that really doesn’t give me an answer. But then he lets out a throaty, “Fuck” and shuts his eyes.

“What’re you doing, baby?” he murmurs, water cascading down his chest.

I lean away from his finger, my eyelashes fluttering from the steam in the air. “I don’t know.”

And I really don’t.

I’m supposed to be telling him that I might be some freak experiment—and I know I’ll eventually have to—but the damn words won’t leave my mouth.

When his eyes remain closed, mortification sweeps over me. I am being weird, aren’t I?

“You said you didn’t want to get naked in the shower,” he says with his eyes still shut. “And then you suck on my finger …” He opens his eyes, his pupils dilated. “It’s confusing.”

“Sorry?” It sounds more like a question.

He drags his teeth along his bottom lip. “You don’t need to be sorry. I just …” He shifts his weight, his attention fixed on me. “What do you want from me?”

What do I want from him? I honestly don’t now. I mean, I came in here to tell him about the memory I had right before I passed out in the treehouse, but then we got in here and more memories started biting at almost every part of me. And I needed to the biting to stop.

He steps toward me, moving so close that I step back. He follows, continuing to lead me backward until my back bumps the wall. Then he places a hand on the glass wall beside my head and leans in. “What do you want from me?” he repeats.

“I …” I feel like a dumbass. Seriously, what was I trying to do when I sucked on his finger?

He studies me intently while sucking on his lip ring. “We’re going to work through this,” he murmurs. I’m not sure what he means, and it must be evident on my face because he adds, “I know we’re really low on time, but I want to hurry and try to chip away at some of that lack of confidence and fear you have … Although, I wish we didn’t have to hurry …” He quietly sighs, the sound of the water hitting the floor nearly sweeping it away. “But I want to make a small chip right now, because you just sucked on my finger, and fuck, that was hot, so I’m gonna take it as a sign.” He splays his hand across my cheek. “So, tell me, baby, what do you want me to do?”

I swallow down the lump of clueless apprehension lodged in my throat. “I’m … I’m not sure what you mean.”

He leans in close enough that strands of his hair tickle my cheek. “I mean, what do you want me to do to you in return for you sucking on my finger?” he breathes hotly in my ear. “Do you want me to kiss you?” He lowers his head and gently kisses the spot on my neck where my pulse is racing. “Or maybe you want a little bit of a bite to it.” He kisses the same spot again, only this time grazing his teeth across the flesh.

A shaky exhale fumbles from my lips, and I grip his sides as my legs threaten to buckle. I feel his muscles tense underneath my touch. Remembering how he said no one has ever seen his scars, I start to withdraw my hands.

“No,” he says in a hoarse tone. “Put your hands back on me. I’m going work through my shit, too. We’ll do it together, okay?”

I allow a slow breath to ease from my lips. Then, nodding, I place my hands on his side.

“Okay … Where were we?”

“You were biting my neck.”

I feel his lips curl into a smile against my neck.

“Right … The neck biting.” He grazes his teeth along my neck again, actually biting me.

My eyes roll into the back of my head, my head bobbing back as heat bursts through my veins. My fingernails dig into his sides as I struggle to stay upright.

“So, you like biting. I’ll make a mental note of that,” he murmurs, sounding pretty damn pleased with himself. “But, what else do you like?” he asks. I know he wants me to say something, but I can’t get any words to leave my lips. “Come on, baby, tell me. I’ll do whatever you want. I want to do whatever you want. But I want you to tell me.” He places his hand on my waist, the side that’s scarred. “I want to free you from some of your scars.”

I think I’m starting to get what he’s saying, what he meant when he said that we’ll work through this. He wants me to feel more comfortable in my own skin and with my own thoughts and desires. I’m not sure if I can, but I desperately want to try to erase how that doctor’s hands felt against my skin when he traced his fingers down my neck …

I reach down and grab Hunter’s hand, prying it off my side. He leans back, worry flooding his features, probably thinking I want him to stop touching me. I want to tell him that I’m not. I want to tell him what I want him to do. But my lips are struggling to stay in sync with my mind, perhaps because I’ve spent years bottling everything up and rarely saying my truths aloud.

So, I do what I can—I show him by taking his hand and placing it on my neck.

The confusion evaporates from his face and is replaced by curiosity.

I swallow hard and know he can feel it against his palm.

“I want you to erase it,” I whisper then move his hand down my neck and to my chest, right above where my heart is sputtering in fear and in anticipation.

He drags his tongue ring along his teeth. “And, how do you want me to do that?”

Dammit, I was hoping he’d take over from here, but apparently, he’s pretty set on me working through this.

My skin is starting to warm, and that discomfort I so often feel in these types of situations is prickling at my skin. But now that I’ve seen some of those memories, I think I know where they’re coming from. And I want to fucking erase them from my mind.

From my flesh.

From my fucking tainted soul that was unwilling marked with their brutality.

Taking another breath, I slide his hand over to my breast.

His eyes heat, and his chest moves more swiftly as his breathing increases.

And then I decide to fucking go all-in, because what else do I have to lose at this point, and slide his hand underneath my bra so he’s cupping my bare flesh.

“Jesus,” he breathes out. “I didn’t think you’d do it all the way … I don’t know why I doubted you, though. I should know better at this point.”

He should know better because he knows me.

He’s known me.

Hunter knows me.

I have to keep reminding myself of that, or I’m going to go into panic mode.

“You want to stop here?” He looks wound up, like he’s struggling to stay in control.

I don’t put any thought into it, mostly because my mind is so silent right now, and shake my head. Then I force the word out of my mouth.

“No.”

He closes eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens them again. Our gazes weld together and, for a moment, he just stands there. Everything is quiet, except for the sound of the shower. Even my heart has gone still.

Touch.

Touch.

Touch.

Like I said before, I’d gone so long without being touch. At least, that’s what I thought. Thinking about it now, I realize that I have been touched over the years. They were all just unwelcomed touches. And I can see that now—how that’s fucked with my head.

But this … this isn’t unwelcomed. And when he grazes his finger over my fucking nipping, I think I might die. Like voluntarily die so that this sensation, this wonderful, welcomed sensation will be the last thing I remember. Nothing else.

I gasp, my lips parting as he brushes his finger over my nipple again.

“Goddammit, Raven,” Hunter mumbles. “We need … Fuck …”

His lips collide with mine in a rough, startling kiss. It kind of hurts how our teeth clank together, but I’m starting to realize I don’t mind pain. I’m sure that’s tied to some other memory I can’t remember yet, but fuck that. It’s not going to control me right now.

I kiss him back, scratching his flesh as I slip my fingers around his waist and to his back. His body trembles, but he doesn’t stop kissing me. In fact, he kisses me deeper, tangling his tongue with mine, his metal piercing clinking against my teeth. He keeps one hand on my breast, lightly pinching my nipple, while moving his other hand down my waist and to the top of my panties.

I slip my hand around to his abs and let them drift toward the top of his boxer briefs. I don’t know what I’m doing, but when he shakily whispers my name, I slip my hands down farther and wrap them around hardness.

He moans and pinches my nipple so hard I whimper.

“I guessed right.”

Someone else’s voice rises through the steam in the shower and, in my mind, slicing it like a knife blade across my flesh.

I break the kiss, turning my head toward the shower door, worried that Elijah will be there or something.

I’m not sure if I should be relieved or not when I see Jax has entered the shower.

He’s standing at the entrance, out of the splash of the water, but steam surrounds him. Unlike Zay and Hunter, he looks like he’s cleaned up. His inky black hair is styled, and his black, button-down shirt, black pants, and red tie aren’t wrinkled or dirty.

He lowers his eyes to where my hand is down the front of Hunter’s boxers then glides them to where Hunter’s fingers are wrapped around my exposed nipple. He sinks his teeth into his lip as his gaze collides with mine. Then he cocks his pierced brow.

Those old feelings of mortification clip through the lust in my body, and I find myself removing my hand from Hunter’s boxer briefs.

Hunter sucks in an inhale, his head lowered into my neck, his breathing uneven. “Can’t you just step outside for like five fucking minutes?”

“I would if it weren’t for the fact that the ceremony is supposed to start in twenty minutes.” Shaking his head, Jax walks across the shower and shuts the water off. “I had a feeling you were in here, wasting time.”

Hunter lets out a hoarse laugh. “You and I have a very different idea of what constitutes as wasting time, brother.”

Jax crosses his arms, flitting a glance at me then at the back of Hunter’s head. “Do you want us to step out so you can finish?”

Um … what?

Hunter’s muscles are raveled into tight knots, strands of his wet hair sticking to his forehead. “You might have to.”

My eyes widen, and I swear a smile plays at Jax’s lips. But, like always, the smile promptly fades as he extends his hand to me. “Come on; I need to stitch up your leg.”

I’ve barely gotten underneath the water, to the point that my hair is still dry. That might be a good thing, though, so I don’t have to redo my hair.

I place my palm in his, and he leads me out of the shower. It’s only when I step out into the cold air that I run into a brick wall.

Well, metaphorically.

Because the second I step out, my eyes fall on Zay standing over by the sinks. Our eyes collide, but then his attention centers on my side.

On my fucking scars.

Somehow, Hunter made me forget they even exist, and that I’m standing in my bra and underwear with the twisted words on full display. But, as Zay takes them in, I become painfully aware that they exist to the point where my bones ache.

Zay may have gotten a glimpse of them when we were in the SUV the day of the bridge incident, but that was different. This time, he gets a good view of the ugliness.

I hurriedly wrap my arm around my side. Then I jerk my hand away from Jax’s, scooting away from him. As panic flares through me, I consider bolting for the door. Who gives a shit what I’m wearing? I’ll just leave, take off, find the exit, and run.

I doubt it’ll be that easy.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Don’t panic,” Jax says like that’s going to help.

In fact, I feel like it makes it worse.

So, I do the only rational thing I can think of.

I run.

“Shit,” Jax lets out a string of curses, and I hear footsteps thudding after me.

Zay moves, too, hurrying toward the doorway.

The thing is, under normal circumstances, I may have had a chance at beating them. But this isn’t normal circumstances. I have a messed-up leg that makes me slow as hell, and so Zay easily beats me to my destination and blocks the door.

“Move out of my way,” I growl, my fingers curling into fists. I may hit him. I’m freaking out that much.

Zay crosses his arms and stares me down. “What’re you going to do. Hit me?”

I stand in front of him, my chest heaving with irritation. “Maybe.”

He shakes his head in annoyance. “I highly doubt it.”

My lip twitches. Then I reach out and shove him. He barely budges. His eyes flare with something, though, that should send fear spiking though me, if I was normal.

Clearly, I’m not.

I let out another growl. “Get out of my way, Zay.”

He says nothing, shifting his eyes to something over my shoulder. At first, I’m confused, but then arms wrap around my waist, and I’m reminded that I’m outnumbered with these guys.

“Let go of me.” I throw my weight against Jax in an attempt to cause him to stumble.

He barely moves, and honestly, I should’ve known better.

“Keep going if you need to,” Jax says in my ear. “I can do this all night, sweetheart.”

“No, you can’t. Because you need to be at the ceremony,” I smart off.

“There’s no point in going if you’re not there. If we don’t have all the members of our team, we instantly lose, remember?”

Fuck, I forgot about that stupid rule.

I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself down, to no avail. It’s complicated, too, when Jax has his arm looped around my waist and his arm is touching my scars. Zay is also watching, which doesn’t help.

Calm down, Raven. They’ve already seen your scars, and what’s happening is probably bigger than that.

I smash my lips together and swallow down the ravenous breath wanting to escape my lips.

“You good?” Jax asks in a calm tone.

Always calm.

All the damn time.

And right now, it’s beyond annoying.

“Yeah.” Irritation prickles in my tone.

“If I let you go, are you going to run?” he asks, shifting his arms.

I release a breath. “No.”

“Okay then.” He lets me go.

I step away from him and reel around. “So, that’s how it’s going to be, then? You’re just going to make me do things because you can?”

He stares at me with an unreadable expression. “Isn’t that how it’s always been?”

He’s being colder than he was at the house and in the treehouse. Nevertheless, his words distract me, and I remember that I never did get around to telling Hunter about the memory.

“I have no idea since I can’t remember much about you,” I say, and he doesn’t even so much as react. “But FYI, your interruption in the shower made it so I couldn’t tell Hunter about some stuff …” I trail off, glancing at Zay, wondering if he gave Jax an update.

“After we get cleaned up, you and I will step into the shower, and you’ll bring me up to date with what you remembered.” Jax is the one to answer. “I honestly assumed you hadn’t told him anything considering, when I walked in, you were touching his cock and he was playing with your nipple.” He says it so matter-of-factly, and then he turns and wanders back toward the counter, signaling for me to follow.

I glare at his back, but my cheeks are flushed. I kind of want to be a defiant brat and try to run again, just to piss him off, but I know I need to get cleaned up so we can go to the ceremony.

With my arms wrapped around myself, I start toward the counter where Jax is digging around a first-aid kit. When I reach him, he doesn’t so much as glance up at me as he takes out a stitching kit and some disinfectant and instructs, “Hop up onto the counter.”

I try to hop up, but I look like a total dumbass since I can’t even hoist myself up halfway due to my leg. If this game requires being physically active, I’m screwed.

“Am I going to have to, like, run and stuff during this game?” I ask as I try to push myself up again.

“We’re not sure,” Zay answers from right behind me as he splays his fingers around my waist.

I stiffen, but he just turns me around, lifts me up, and sets me down on the counter.

“Thanks,” I mumble, quickly wrapping my arm around my waist again.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting to wear my scars are again hidden. He then rubs his lips together, lifting his gaze to mine. As his lip part, I brace myself for questions about the scars.

“I brought you something,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his pants.

I blink at him. That so wasn’t what I expected him to say.

“What?” I ask cautiously.

He withdraws a small metal box, opens it up, and takes out a joint and lighter. “You said getting high calms you down, right?” He hands me the joint.

Okay, so I know Zay and I argue a lot, and he’s made me angrier than both Hunter and Jax combined, but in this moment, all I feel is gratitude toward him. In fact, he may have stolen a tiny piece of my heart in this moment.

I take the joint from him and look him in the eye. “Thank you.” Then I offer him a smile before popping the joint between my lips.

I reach for the lighter, but he doesn’t hand it to me. He leans in, flicks it, and puts the flame to the end of the joint.

Yeah, there’s nothing like a guy lighting a joint for you to make your heart melt a bit.

Once the joint is good and lit, I take a few puffs and bask in the sweat blissfulness of calmness. Jax is still getting ready to stitch up the hole in my leg, but I feel less nervous about it now. Not that I was full-on freaking out about it.

“Where did you get this, anyway?” I ask Zay as I exhale a cloud of smoke.

“From a guy on of the other teams.” Zay observes me as I smoke. “We owe him a favor for it.”

“Who?” Jax asks, glancing at him.

“Benton,” Zay replies, lifting a shoulder. “Figured owing him a favor wouldn’t be a big deal … You know how he is.”

Jax nods in agreement then takes out a needle.

I look back at Zay, who’s still watching me, and decide to offer him some, even though I’m not sure if he’s into this or not. As far as I know, Hunter is the only one who likes to smoke it up. But Zay takes the offered joint from me, puts it to his lips, and inhales. As he exhales, he hands me back the joint. I suck in another inhale then exhale, already feeling high and loving it. It beats feeling the panic and shame over how exposed I am right now.

I should probably put my clothes back on … after I take a few more hits.

“I’ve never actually smoked weed with anyone before,” I divulge as I hand the joint back to Zay.

His brows rise slightly as he takes the joint from me. “Really?”

I shrug. “I think I’ve already clarified that I didn’t have friends.” I’m babbling now but am too high to care. “The only reason I could get a hold of weed period is because I stole it from my uncle’s stash.”

It’s weird talking about my uncle. I haven’t seen him in a few days, and part of me wonders where him, my aunt, and cousin are. Did they evacuate the town? Or are they part of this game? I have a feeling that they might be. I’m not sure why, but I do.

What if they’re at the ceremony, there to watch me fail and die?

That’s a morbid thought.

“You’ve never had any friends at all?” Zay asks with the joint pinched between his fingers.

I shake my head then waver. “Well, not since we were kids.”

He rubs his lips together, deeply contemplating something. Then he puts the joint to his lips, takes a hit and, without exhaling, leans in. I note Jax glance at us with a curious expression. I’m a little puzzled, too … until Zay touches his lips to mine and exhales the smoke into my mouth.

I’ve seen this done on movies before, but I’ve never actually done it. And, since I wasn’t expecting it, I fuck up big time and the smoke ends up surrounding my face.

I giggle. “Sorry. I didn’t know what you were doing. Do it again. I won’t mess it up this time.”

He actually smiles. It’s small, but it’s definitely genuine, and then he flicks his gaze to Jax. When I turn my head to see what he’s looking at, I find Jax smiling, as well.

“Am I hallucinating?” I remark. “Or are both of you actually smiling?”

“We smile occasionally,” Jax informs me, pressing back the smile. “It’s rare, but it does happen.”

“Okay, but why are you smiling now?” I wonder.

He just shrugs and directs his attention back to the stitches. “Because you giggled, and it’s adorable.”

Did Jax just say my giggle was adorable?

That idea makes another soft giggle escape my lips.

While Jax doesn’t look at me, I detect the way his lips curve up into another grin. I smile, too, but then I get distracted as a finger fixes on my chin and Zay tilts my head back toward him.

“I’m going to try it again, okay?” he says. “This time, let your lips touch mine.”

With my teeth sunk into my lip, I nod.

Carrying my gaze, he sucks in another hit then leans in and seals his lips to mine. This time, I slant closer to him, scooting to the edge of the counter and wrapping my legs around his waist. He fleetingly tenses then relaxes and exhales into my mouth. The smoke slithers from his lips and into my mouths, kissing my tongue and my lungs.

He slants back, watching me as I exhale.

I smile at him, no longer upset. And yeah, I know it’s because I’m high, but I’ll take it.

“Thank you, Zayden,” I tell him.

His normally shadowed eyes sort of light up.

Jax shakes his head. “You keep talking to him like that, sweetheart, and you’re going to fuel his already out of control possessive issues with you.”

Zay glares at Jax. “It’s not out of control.”

Jax rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

The muscle in Zay’s jaw pulsates, and he mutters something under his breath before he returns his attention back to me. His expression softens, but then hesitancy crosses it.

“About the scars on your side,” he starts, “is that what your uncle did to you?”

“Yeah,” I mumble with a slow sigh.

That muscle in his jaw pulsates again. Then he leans in and puts his lips to my ear. “One day, I’m going to fucking kill him for you.”

Apparently, my heart’s a sick, twisted bastard, because it skips a beat.

“All right, stoned Romeo, move over so I can get her leg taken care of.” Jax’s voices rises over the moment.

I giggle again. “He called you stoned Romeo.”

Zay chuckles at that, the joint still positioned in his fingers.

Jax rolls his eyes again as he moves toward me. “Great. You two are going to be blazed for the starting ceremony.”

Zay just gives a shrug, and Jax lets out the softest of sighs before positioning himself in front of me.

“Yo, bro!” Hunter suddenly calls out from the shower. “Is there any towels anywhere!”

“There’s a cupboard to the side of the entrance,” Jax tells Zay. “Check in there.”

Zay looks at me before reluctantly walking away, calling out to Hunter, “Hold on!”

Once Zay has left the room, I ask Jax, “What is this place, anyway? Because it’s weird that it has, like, a communal shower and towels just lying around.”

He starts unwinding the gauze from my leg. “I’m not positive, but I’m thinking that this is going to be the teams’ living quarters during the game.”

My lips tug downward. “We’re going to be stuck in this place? From the little pieces I can remember, that’s not how it worked last time.”

“I don’t think anything is going to work the same as last time.” He peels the gauze all the way off. The open wound stings as the air hits it, blood trickling from the hole. Jax frowns at it. “It didn’t start the same way. Nothing about it so far has been the same.” He gently circles his fingers around my knee, just below the wound. “I talked to some people while I was out in the main room, and everyone’s kind of thinking the same thing—that nothing about this game will be like the last.”

“Do you …? Do you think that’s a good or bad thing?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, the first time around was awful. But not knowing what’s in store for us isn’t great, either.” He reaches for the disinfectant right as Zay returns with a small stack of towels.

He wanders over to the shower, opens the door, and tosses one to Hunter. Then he heads over to us and sets the rest of the towels on the counter beside me. He doesn’t have the joint in his hand anymore, and his eyes are a bit bloodshot.

“Did you put the joint out?” I ask.

He nods, shifting closer to me. “Yeah, but if you need me to light it up later, I promise I will.”

Jax slightly shakes his head but doesn’t say anything.

“I couldn’t find any numbing solution, so stitching this up is going to hurt, even if you’re high, so I suggest that maybe Zay holds onto you while I do it.” His eyes flick to mine. “I need you to hold as still as possible.”

I blow out a slow exhale as I brace myself for the pain. “I will.” I take another deep breath and try my best to hold still.

Zay reaches out and threads his fingers through mine, startling me. But I clutch on to him as Jax douses some cotton balls with disinfectant then places them on my wounds.

The burn is bad, but I manage not to move. My eyes don’t even close. But when he threads the first stitch, that pain … well, it’s barely bearable. I squeeze my eyes shut, grasp onto Zay’s hand, and remind my lungs that they need oxygen.

Another stitch pierces through my skin, and I clench my teeth, every muscle in my body wound tight—

A hand touches the side of my head and pushes it against a solid chest. I know it’s Zay because of the scent of smoke, but that doesn’t make it any less confusing.

Because Zay is cradling my head.

Zay. Scary Zay.

But apparently, stoned Zay is sweet Zay.

I suck in another breath and let it out, my chest loosening a bit.

Another stitch. I barely feel it this time.

In fact, I feel sort of tired, which is super weird considering everything going on. Even stoned, it’s bizarre. Nevertheless, I embrace the sensation, leaning into Zay and listening to the quick whispers of his beating heart.

He starts smoothing his hand over the side of my head, his movements a bit stumbling, like he hasn’t done this before. At least in a while, something his next comment suggests.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had to stitch you up,” he says quietly. “I hate that it’s happened so many times.”

“Where did you have to stitch me up last time?”

“On your foot.”

“I think I might remember that … You carried me, right?”

His hand fleetingly falters, but he quickly recovers, stroking my head again. “Yeah, I did.”

“That’s nice.” You’re being so nice to me. I don’t say that aloud, though.

While Jax, Zay, and Hunter have been nice to me lately, I still can’t shake the feeling that maybe the text I got has meaning to it.

Unknown: I’m not part of one of the families, Ravenlee. I’m trying to help you. Don’t trust The Raven Three. And don’t tell them about this message. They’re still lying to you. Everything you think you know isn’t right. Your life, your death, it’s all a lie. I’ll keep in touch.

“I had to get stitches once when I was, like, thirteen, too,” I continue, because it’s a good distraction from everything.

“What’d you do?” he wonders, playing with strands of my hair.

“I punched a guy in the face because he called me a white trash whore,” I murmur. “I had a ring on my finger, and it cut his cheek open.”

I expect him to chuckle, but he stiffens. Then his hands are on my chin, angling my head up. The movement causes my eyes to flutter open and, instantly, his gaze welds with mine, fury burning in his pupils.

“No one will ever fucking call you anything like that again,” he promises, his tone and fingers quivering. “I’ll fucking kill them if they do.”

My pulse is all over the place, pounding and whispering so much emotional crap to me that I can’t even sort it out.

“You keep making promises to kill people for me,” I say quietly.

“I know.” He gives a short pause. “Does that scare you?”

The way he says it reminds me of the Zay I first met … well, this time around. I don’t really dislike it as much as I used to—that challenging tone he uses, the expectant look in his eye, the one where I can tell he’s waiting to see if he scares me.

I slowly shake my head from side to side while carrying his gaze. “You don’t scare me, Zayden.”

He bites down on his lip hard. “You keep calling me Zayden.”

“That’s your name.”

“But no one ever calls me it …” He sucks in a breath then lets it out, so close I feel the air dance across my face. “Except for you.”

I think he means when I was younger.

I also think he might kiss me as his gaze drops to my lips—

“We’re going to have to make sure your socks hide this wrap,” Jax announces as he finishes up the last stitch, shattering the moment between Zay and I.

Zay blinks and leans back, stuffing his hands into his pockets while I fix my gaze on Jax, who’s wrapping up the wound.

Hunter has exited the shower. His clothes are on, and he’s leaning against the edge of the counter just a ways from me, slipping on one of his boots. It reminds me that I don’t have my clothes on and makes me want to get dressed.

“The one has a hole in it,” I inform Jax, “so the gauze is going to show through it.”

“I can go see if I can find an extra pair,” Hunter offers, straightening from the counter and raking his fingers through his damp hair.

“You think you’re gonna find someone who has extra knee-high socks?” I question.

“Not an extra one. But I’m sure I can get someone to give me the ones they’re wearing.” He flashes me an amused smile. “I’m very charming when I need to be.”

For the weirdest moment, I wonder if he’s going to mess around with someone to get these socks. And for an even weirder moment, I feel sick to my stomach over the idea. But then he comes strolling up to me, standing right beside Jax and to the side of me, and leans in to kiss me on the lips. Right in front of everyone.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine. “I’m just going to talk to some people. Nothing else.” He starts to lean away then slants to the side and puts his lips beside my ear. “That was seriously the hottest fucking shower I’ve ever had … I thought of your tits the whole fucking time I got off.”

My eyes widen as Hunter slants back with huge grin on his face. His grin only widens when he sees my expression. Then he brushes his knuckles along my chin before turning and heading toward the door with a spring in his step.

And me? As usually, I feel completely out of my element.

Hunter is way, way more sexually experienced than I am, and I seriously feel like I need to have like a sex lesson to keep up with him.

“Go with him,” Jax orders Zay while tossing the bottle of disinfectant into the first-aid kit. “And make sure he doesn’t bargain something for those socks that we don’t want to give up.”

Zay shakes his head. “No, I’m staying here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jax says in a firm tone. “You’re going to go with Hunter and get what we need while I hear what Raven has to tell us.”

“Jax—”

“No,” Jax cuts Zay off as he closes the first-aid kit. “You’re going to have to learn to be apart from her. If you don’t, people are going to see it as a weakness and use it against us.” He glances at him with a brow elevated. “Is that what you want?”

Zay opens and flexes his hands, looking from me to Jax. “No.” He looks at me again.

“She’ll be fine with me, and you know it,” Jax assures him. “Now go before Hunter gets to the main room.”

Looking as though he’s about to explode, Zay spins around, muttering underneath his breath as he leaves.

Once the door clicks shut, Jax lets out a breath. “His possessiveness is going to get us in trouble.” He reclines against the countertop and fiddles with his brow piercing, a contemplative look on his face. “I’m going to have to figure something out.”

“To get him to stop being so possessive over me?” I question, gripping the edge of the counter.

“Something like that,” he evasively replies, lowering his hand and straightening his stance. “Let’s hurry and get into the shower. We only have a few minutes until we need to get out there, and I want to hear what you have to say.” He offers me his hand to help me off the counter.

I take it and carefully slide down, my knee feeling tight and strange. “Can I get dressed first? Or are we actually taking a shower?”

The corners of his lips twitch as he lets go of my hand. “As fun as that sounds, we need to make this quick, so I’m just going to turn the water so it’ll overlap what we’re talking about.”

He starts for the shower but pauses to collect my clothes, leaving the phone and holster on the floor. I want to take my phone with me in case I get another message from unknown, but that’d probably look a bit suspicious.

“You can get dressed while we talk,” Jax informs me as he starts toward the shower again.

He’s being super bossy, so I give him a one-finger salute while his back is to me then hobble after him. Between the awkwardness of my leg and being high, it takes me a while to get into the shower. Or it feels like a while, anyway.

Once we’re inside, Jax turns on the shower then moves away as the water pours out of it. Then he casually leans against the wall, props his boot up onto it, and crosses his arms. “So, what did you need to tell us?” he asks, sounding bored.

I can’t tell if he doesn’t think what I’m about to say is important, or if he’s just being Jax.

“I remembered something while I blacked out,” I start as I pull my shirt over my head. Then I proceed to tell him about the memory I had, about the immortality and the guy who said he wanted to use it for something. While I talk, I put my skirt on, but that’s about as far as I can get without the socks.

As I tell Jax about the memory, my stomach begins to ravel in knots. It sounds ludicrous when I say it aloud. What if Jax thinks I’m bat-shit crazy? Then again, we did just get chased by monsters in the forest.

A long stretch of silence follows once I’m finished as Jax lets all that sink in.

“This doctor,” he finally says, “was the one who took your first kiss, I’m guessing.”

My stomach burns. If I had eaten recently, I’d be worried I’d vomit, but it’s been a while since I’ve had something to eat. “How did you know about that?”

His dark eyes meld with mine. “You mentioned it in the car the day we picked you up from your house.”

My brows knit. “I did?”

He gives a calculating nod. “You never said it was a doctor, but you implied that it was someone who had no business touching you.” He lowers his foot from the wall. “From what you just told me, I’m assuming it’s this doctor.”

With my lips smashed together, I nod. It’s the first time I’ve told anyone about this—it’s the first time I’ve had anyone I could tell about this—and it’s terrifying.

He starts toward me, his movements slow but with a purpose. He swings around the fall of the water and stops in front of me, so close his chest brushes against mine. “No one will fucking touch you like that again. And while I’m going to sound very Zay-like at the moment, I’m going to say it, anyway. This doctor is going to get tortured for what he did to you.”

I think it might be even scarier when Jax says those sort of things. While anger and passion flow from Zay’s tone when he promises me dark, revengeful things, Jax says it in an even, emotionless tone, as if he has no worries about tormenting some guy.

He may not.

Perhaps Jax is a sadist.

Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.

He drags the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip as he stands there, considering something. He has a ring on his finger, and the cold metal sends a chill across my flesh.

“We need to go,” he says, throwing me off. Then he lowers his hand from my lips and heads to turn the shower off.

“Wait … What about all that other stuff I told you?” I fidget with the hem of my skirt. “Like me … being immortal?”

He shrugs as he grabs the shower handle. “I doubt that’s true, considering I had to stitch your knee up.”

“So, you think my memory is wrong?”

“No. I just think that whatever was happening to you then might not be happening to you now.”

“You’re acting so calm about this.”

“I act calm about everything,” he replies flatly. “However, I’m not as worried as you seem to be, because I have a plan.”

I push away from the dewy glass wall. “What sort of plan?”

He faces me, his hand still on the handle, but he doesn’t turn the water off yet. “To get revenge on my father for everything he’s done.”

I stop in front of him, warm water splashing against my legs. “How does your father have anything to do with this?”

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s the man talking to the doctor in your memory.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes my brain a second to register what he said.

“I gape at him. “But … how? And why?”

“That’s what I intend to find out.” He rubs his lips together, considering something. “If I tell you something, will you swear you won’t tell Zay or Hunter?”

“You keep secrets from them?” I ask, shocked.

He shrugs. “Not usually. But this isn’t something I want them to know just yet, because they’ll try to stop me.”

“How do you know I won’t?” I challenge, crossing my arms.

The corners of his lips quirk. “You might, but you can’t.”

“Because I’m weak?” I question in annoyance.

“Weaker than me physically,” he responds nonchalantly. “Mentally, you’re definitely as strong as me, and that’s part of why I feel like I can tell you—because I think you can handle it.” He drags his fingers through his wet locks. “And because I may need your help.”

As stupid as this may make me, I feel kind of honor that he’s bringing into this secret world.

“Okay, I promise I won’t tell,” I inform him, drawing an X across my heart, because I once saw me do that to him in a memory.

The smallest of smiles tickles at his lip, but he grows serious again.

“I’m planning to take my father down,” he says. “I’m going to do what I have to, to dig up dirt on him while we’re staying underneath a roof that belongs to him. I’m going to learn everything, and then I’m going to destroy him with it.”

I want to ask him how.

I want to ask him how I play a role in this.

I want to ask him so, so much

But he shuts the water off before I can.

The air isn’t quiet, though. No, I can hear Zay and Hunter talking just outside.

Jax strolls past me, catching my gaze as he does. Like always, a coldness glazes across his expression, but his eyes convey a flicker of light, as if they’re silently whispering something to me.

“You want me to help you put your boots on?” he asks.

“I need my socks first,” I remind him, my heart doing strange things as I remember how he helped me put on the holster back at the house.

A drop of playfulness glitters in his eyes. “Come on, then. Let’s go get your socks and finish getting you dressed.” With that, he exits the shower.

The air is still warm, but it’s starting to cool down. The shift reminds me a lot of Jax—so hot and cold all the time.

It’s confusing.

Just like everything else in my life.