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I still stumble over parts, as my mind shoves me right back into the memory with Logan peppering me with questions. A reassuring squeeze around my hand from Bry bolsters me a little.

I reach the part where Peter dislocated my arm, and the temperature in the room drops. Varying levels of anger surge around me, and it sets me a little on edge.

“And when you came to?” Logan prompts me, and I swallow.

There’s an odd sort of hesitancy holding me back from disclosing information about the woman who…saved me. Although I don’t feel like she was there for me.

The way she watched me and pointed at me to leave, it felt more like I was an inadvertent spectator rather than the goal of her being there. Sure, she stopped Peter hurting me any further, but it doesn’t mean that was why she did it.

So why did she do it?

Shitsticks, the way she easily hurt him…she could’ve done the same to me.

I’m suddenly all too aware of everyone watching me. I furrow my brows in an attempt to look confused and prepare myself to lie. Something I’m altogether terrible at and hate doing.

“I’m not sure. Everything’s a bit blurry. I…I remember him hurting me, then passing out. Then I was stumbling out of the door. I didn’t get time to look back, as there was a bang and the house was on fire,” I tell him, tugging my good hand out of Bry’s grip, worried he’ll be able to feel how clammy it is and question it. “What happened to Peter? Did you catch him?”

The detective exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly, and I maintain my concerned expression, avoiding his eye contact. That part isn’t a lie, at least, because there’s still disbelief that he didn’t survive. That he can’t come back to get me.

He’s somehow imprinted himself on me, and my skin itches with the need to scratch him off.

“We did find the remains of a body after we managed to put the fire out and get into the property. I’m waiting on forensics to confirm the identity,” he replies, still watching me carefully.

Can detectives…detect a lie? Is there some sort of built-in lie detector that makes them good at what they do, so they know when someone is withholding something from them?

Crapsicles. I’m so sweaty right now, and my pulse is thundering so loudly they’re all bound to hear it.

“Well how long does that take?” Max asks, taking the question straight out of my mouth.

“There’s a variety of factors that can impact it, so I can’t give a timeframe. But I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, if you recall anything at all, you let me know,” Logan says to me.

I ignore the urge to swallow under his interest.

Shitsticks. Act normal, Rosy.

“Okay.” I nod, offering a false smile when he wishes me well. Noah follows him out.

My body slumps, and a seed of regret sits in my stomach. If Logan finds out I’ve lied to him, will I go to prison? I could probably cope with community service, but actually inside a prison? Shit, I don’t think I can. There are no trees, no space, and no animals. What if someone decides I’m prey and jumps me? Would I need a shiv? How do you even make one?

“You going to tell us what really happened, little tease?” Nate’s grumble draws me from the spiralling, and I look up at his intense gaze.

“I…” I trail off and chew my lip indecisively. My fingers tug at the hospital sheets, rubbing the fabric between them.

“Your secrets are our secrets. We’ll take them to the grave,” Max announces, jumping up from the seat. He crawls across the bottom of the bed and drops to his side to watch me.

Fingers trail over my cheekbone, pushing back the loose strands of hair. It’s likely a knotted mess after everything. Shit, all of me is a mess. Twisting my head to Bry, I tilt my face into his palm. He offers me a reassuring nod.

I deflate a little, knowing I need to get it off my chest.

“Um… So, I might’ve left out a little part where a Lycra-clad clown-mime-jester woman stabbed Peter in the neck in front of me.”

Silence.

All I can hear are the hospital machines and the muffled noises beyond the closed door. The door opens, and Noah strides back in.

He stops at the end of my bed, glancing around at us all. “What’s going on?”

“Rosy just told us that a badass cat woman saved her,” Max volunteers.