Chapter 13

My eyes flew open, and panic set in like a hard kick to the gut. I shot up in bed, my heart loud inside my ears, my eyes darting frantically across the dark bedroom. The only light seeped in from the full moon through the blinds, striping the walls and floor in pale white lines.

I wiped a shaking hand across my forehead, brushing away the cold sweat gathering there. A slow, irritated sigh escaped my lips.

It was just a nightmare.

The same nightmare that infiltrated my sleeping hours like a ghost out for revenge.

This ghost was born the moment my mother died. I didn’t remember what happened that night. Everything I knew came from Dad—or at least the parts he was willing to share.

A rival gang had descended on our house, supposedly wanting money and goods from my dad’s illegal stash. If he didn’t comply, they’d kill us all. My dad claimed to have given them what they wanted in order to protect us. But a fight had broken out with one of the guards, and Mom got shot with a stray bullet in the process.

I was told I had PTSD, and the trauma of what I had witnessed had resulted in memory loss. Aside from nightmares of watching that bullet hit my Mom over and over again. In those nightmares, every time after she was killed, the mystery person holding the gun would point it at me.

However, something always happened, and I never got shot.

I never saw his face, but I knew he was male. And just as the trigger was about to pull, someone would knock the gun from his hand.

The person saving me changed every time. Harris used to show up the most. Sometimes, it was other members of the pack, like Dwane, though he hadn’t made an appearance since the night he tried to kill me.

Lately, it had been Jace, Darius, or Hunter.

Tonight, our guest of honor was Hunter. It kept changing, but my best guess was he made a special appearance because he kind of did help me earlier, not counting the time he helped toss me in the pool, but it still counted. He could have left me at the mercy of Jace, which I was more than ready for because I was brimming with anger.

I sighed, cursing myself, then kicked off the heavy blankets. “If there’s anyone I can’t trust, it’s the freaking rogue,” I muttered to myself, my tone thick with annoyance.

He likely did it so I’d be caught off guard when he did decide to make a strike against me. I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t be fooled.

If there was something I learned from my ever-absent dad, it was the skill of deceit. It was the ones who suck up to you and play nice that you needed to watch out for. They were the ones more than likely to betray you.

I crossed the room and flicked the light switch, flinching as yellow light flooded the space. My gaze slid to the clock ticking softly on the wall. 2:04 a.m.

Another reminder that I still needed a cell phone. The last one was lost somewhere between juvie and the trip back home. My eyes narrowed on the set of drawers beneath the clock, and I headed toward it. Muttering something about sleep deprivation, I yanked open a drawer and pulled out a notepad, rummaging for a pen. The first one I grabbed was bright pink with a fluff of feathers at the end. I couldn’t help but smirk as I picked it up, thinking of how triggered Darius would be if he saw it, then shutting the drawer.

My eyes fell on my bed. I considered crashing there and making use of my notepad, then decided I was feeling like a snack and headed for the door instead.

I slipped out the door, moving quietly down the dark hall. A heavy snore echoed somewhere nearby—one of the guys, for sure. I was half-tempted to find tissues and shove them up his nose but decided against it.

For now.

The kitchen was cold and quiet, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on my neck rise. The place always felt haunted at night, like someone stood just out of sight. I had learned to ignore the sensation. It hadn’t killed me. Yet.

I set the notepad and pen down on the table and made a beeline for the fridge. Grabbing a tub of berry yogurt and a spoon, I slid into a chair, flipping open the notepad. I started rebuilding the list I made in juvie. The original had been stolen by some girl who broke into my room. This version was shakier, but the bones were there.

College. A new place.

Things that felt just out of reach, tied up with Mom’s inheritance. If Dad ever let me have it. Even if the money was legally mine, I didn’t stand a chance fighting him for it. He had too many people in his pocket.

A lecture was coming the moment Dad returned from his trip. I could feel it. The kind that made me want to punch through drywall.

I was scrawling “Buy a cell phone” when a voice snorted behind me.

“Nursing?” A snort sounded behind me, making me flinch. However, I proudly managed not to show how startled I was being snuck up like that. “What are you going to do? Stab as many people as you can to death with a syringe?”

I rolled my eyes, pressed the tip of the pen to the paper and wrote; Buy rat poison. “Is there some good reason you’re lurking around in the middle of the night?”

A noisy screech sounded as Hunter dragged out a chair beside me and sat down. He slammed down a tub of ice cream beside my tub of yogurt and peeled off the lid, stabbing it with a spoon.

I raised a brow, peering at him suspiciously. “Well?”