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Zay gaze dissects her. “What do you mean?”
Her chest rises and crashes as she heaves a sigh. Then she shifts her gaze to him. “The only person who’s ever called melittle birdis the therapist I had while I was in the psychiatric ward.” Shame fills her eyes, and she looks away, staring down at her hands as she picks at the nail polish on her fingers. “But I don’t know how he would’ve been able to put that note into my pocket … I haven’t even seen him since I was released.”
Zay rubs his jawline. “Can I see the note?” he asks.
Keeping one hand on Raven’s waist, I give him the note. He takes it from me and reads it, a crinkle forming between his brow.
“The note looks recently written,” he mutters, glancing at me.
“You think someone somehow put it in her pocket while she was in the house?” I ask, pulling Raven closer to me.
Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. “You think he—someone—came into the house and put it in my pocket? Like while I was sleeping or something?”
She’s trembling with fear, and it’s pissing me off. I’m not angry at her or anything like that. I’m fucking fuming at the person who is causing her this fear. Whoever this he is that she keeps mentioning.
“Not while you were sleeping,” Zay clarifies as he stands up. “The power was back on by then. But it was off for quite a while, and we were outside for a bit, which would’ve given someone the perfect chance to sneak in and leave the note, if they were watching us.”
A shudder rolls through her body again, and I pull her closer.
“Raven, sweetheart, you said this guy called you this was your therapist?”
She nods then sucks in a breath through her nose, her gaze traveling to the wall.
Something’s wrong.
“He was more of a doctor than a therapist,” she adds as an afterthought.
I can sense it in her, something that exists in myself, Hunter, and Zay.
Cupping her face, I angle her head toward me until our gazes weld. “What did he do to you?” I ask hoarsely. Underneath the crackling of my voice, rage is piercing.
“Nothing,” she lies. I can tell she does. I’m not even sure how I know. I just feel it. See it. Recognize it. “I just … didn’t like him.”
I skim my finger along her cheekbone, and her eyelashes flutter. The fear still remains in her beautiful but haunted eyes. It’s agonizing to know this, to realize that the pain continued to pierce her life when Willow—Raven—left us the first time. She already told us enough about her life that I’m aware that it wasn’t great and have seen a glimpse of the scars on her side. But this … this is something deeper, darker, more sinister. It’s something that mirrors mine, Hunter’s, and Zay’s eyes, too.
And yes, I know that all of these thoughts only carry truth if she is Willow, but I don’t give a shit what Zay says anymore. Raven is Willow. I can feel it pulsating through my body as she peers up at me with those fucking eyes that I’ve looked at before, a long, long time ago.
“How are you gonna do it then, Jaxon?” she asks, peering up at me. Lightning is raging in the sky and reflecting in her eyes, and my body.
I want to rage, too, like the storm. Want to rip this house apart and tear up everything inside it.
“I’m not sure yet.”
Rain begins to shower down on us, but we stay put, too afraid to move as we hide in the trees from them—our fathers. Because, if they find us, they’ll hurt us. Again.
“But, one day, I’m gonna do it. I’m going to think of a plan and hurt them so they’ll never hurt us again. I promise.”
As she stares up at me with her big eyes, raindrops dripping down her face, she looks hopeful for a split second. But like the lightninging above, it quickly fades as we hear a voice echoing from the distance—
“Jax.” Raven’s worried voice wrenches me from the memory. “You’re shaking … What’s wrong?”
My vision has spotted over, and I have to blink a few times for her face to come into focus. Our gazes collide, and her worry deepens.
She molds her palm to my cheek. “Where’s your head at?”
I about come unglued from her touch, so many emotions pouring through me.
Pain.
