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“That was fast,” I say as I sit up.
Then I tense because Hunter isn’t the one who slipped into the room.
It’s Ellis, aka scar guy.
“What are you doing in here?” My voice comes out a little shaky, and I cringe.
Calm the hell down, Raven. He can’t do anything to you. Not with cameras everywhere. But then I remember that Hunter said there weren’t any in here.
For an unnerving moment, Ellis stands there, assessing me with his cold eyes. I rack my brain for a way to escape, discreetly scanning Hunter’s room for some sort of weapon, but I can’t see anything anywhere.
“You didn’t go to The Forgotten Club,” he finally says, his voice deep, his eyes cold.
The Forgotten Club? You mean….
“That secret society… that guy who gave me that card…” I start to inch around the bed, moving farther away from him. “How do you know about that?”
He rolls his eyes and shifts his weight. I realize then that he’s carrying something—a package. “Because I’m the one who sent you the card.”
My lips part, but no words come out at first. I take a deep breath then try again. “Who the hell are you?”
“I think the better question is: who are you?” He steps forward and tosses the box onto the bed. “Next time, follow the instructions.”
“There’s a blizzard out there,” I snap at him. “How the hell was I supposed to even get to this place …?” I trail off as he exits the room, slamming the door behind him.
I open and flex my hands. “Asshole.”
My attention is quickly distracted as I eye the package. What the hell is in it?
I want to find out, but on the other hand, Ellis has given me the creeps the entire night. What if this is a setup for something? I should probably just message the guys …
I start to reach for the holster, where I tucked my phone, but something makes me pause. I’m not even sure what. Or maybe I do. It’s the faintest of memories kissing my brain, ones that I swear contain the guys when they were younger.
Ellis had said,I think the better question is: who are you?
Perhaps this is all part of the game. Maybe something horrible will be inside this box that will hurt me. Maybe I’m stupid for opening it.
But my need to know outweighs all of that.
I walk over to the bed and open the box.
Inside are photos, papers, and a phone.
My heart is beating deafeningly, and blood roars in my eardrums as I start digging out the stuff. The photos are of a little girl with raven hair. In most of them, the girl is alone in a room, in a forest, in a chair …
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
“Smile for the camera, pretty girl.”
I yank myself away from the memory, releasing an unsteady breath as I look over more of the photos. Photos where the girl isn’t alone.
A blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, another with inky black hair and stormy eyes, and the last one has short hair and a scar.
The boys from my memories.
