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She grabs my jaw. Another needle pricks my arm. Her lips twist into a sinister smile.

‘He will get me Kian,’ she says, voice slipping away.

I jolt up, gasping, and the witch yanks her hand back again, her brow glistening with sweat. Her pale-blue eyes are wide as she stares at me.

Kian steps forward, jaw tight. ‘What did you see?’

My head aches like I’ve been split open from the inside.

‘I saw a witch,’ I whisper hoarsely, feeling like someone has poked around inside my brain with a hot poker stick and the burns are still singed into my insides. ‘She mentioned you.’ I look at Kian. ‘They took me, injected me with things, to get to you.’

Kian’s expression doesn’t change, and I realise he already suspected that. Pieces of my memory are starting to fall back into place. Kian is always one step ahead. It always comes back to him.

Yet again, I am just collateral damage in someone else’s game.

When I leave the room, Kian doesn’t follow me.

He watches me walk through the side door into the garden before he vanishes back into the house. The witch is gone too, and I haven’t seen Cora all morning.

The air outside is cold and damp, and the garden is completely protected from the sunlight while also still being light and open. It should feel peaceful, but nothing feels peaceful to me right now.

I stand near the edge of the stone path, where vines twist up the iron fencing. My hands rest on the railing, and I press my palms against it. The memories continue to press in, overloading me in an aggressive, unapologetic way.

Hunter.

That’s the first name that sticks.

His face blurs in and out. His soft smile, deep laugh, hair always falling into his eyes no matter how many times he brushes it back. The person I trusted the most.

I hold my head, the force of more memories pushing in.

Then come the other nights. The darker ones. Red-tinged memories. My hands tangled in someone’s hair, mouths and skin and the taste of blood and desire. The music around us pulsing. Warm bodies beneath me. A hunger never quite satisfied.

Everything blurs at the edges, not from alcohol, but from lust and power.

I wasn’t always kind. I thought I was untouchable.

I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want to be.

A part of me doesn’t want to remember all of the things I’ve done. Maybe I can ask her to wipe my memories forever and start over fresh. It might be easier that way.

Footsteps approach me, and I don’t need to lift my head to know who it is. Cora doesn’t say anything at first. She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms behind her, legs crossed at the ankle.

‘I forgot how dramatic you get when you’re brooding,’ she says eventually.

I exhale a quiet laugh. ‘Didn’t know I was being dramatic.’

‘Oh, please.’ She grins and does a quick re-enactment of me, holding her head and making pained noises.

‘I’d like to see you have memories slammed back into your head like a sledgehammer.’

Her playful smile fades and she nods. ‘I know. Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about it. I’m sure it isn’t very comfortable.’ She offers me a sympathetic glance. ‘Do you remember anything useful?’

‘I remember Hunter.’

‘Yeah.’ Her voice softens slightly. ‘You care very deeply for Hunter. I’m half-convinced you’re in love with him’

I smile faintly. ‘He’s my best friend.’