Prologue
JESSICA
Eight Years Ago
The Night Before the Guard Ball
The moon looms large and sits so close that I can almost see every crater against an inky, navy-blue sky filled with millions of stars sprinkling across the vast expanse of the night sky.
Such a beautiful, calm picturesque backdrop for the full moon surrounded by a yellow-white ethereal glow.
Its glow is so bright, lighting every surface it touches.
A crisp breeze brushes against my skin, wisps of hair tickling my cheek. I take a deep breath, inhaling a mixture of varying scents—dirt, hay, and horses—embracing the scent of the stables one last time before we leave for the night.
I hear soft footfalls approach. I let out a long sigh.
A small part of my heart fills with guilt for making Charlie bring me to the stables this late at night.
It has been an incredibly long day, but as exhausted as I feel, my mind won’t quiet down.
I needed to come here to see my favorite horse Queenie to help with the looming anxiety.
“Alright, everything is locked up for the night. Ready to head back home?” Charlie asks.
I admire his profile in the moonlight. It's uncanny how identical he looks to his cousin Luke despite the difference in age.
Charlie Langhlan, son of Christopher Langhlan, the third lead guard, has not only become my cousin through the adoption but one of my closest friends.
I think back to the moment six months ago when I woke up in the clinic.
I was so scared, filled with the need to run, to escape.
I brush my fingertips against the puckered scar at the base of my throat.
So much has happened these past six months, and I still have no memory of my life before I was found.
On top of that, I have no memory of what happened to me this past week.
My mind shifts back to last Friday. I prepared dinner for my family and got into a fight with Luke. While everyone else ate, I left inconspicuously to avoid interrupting the joyous gathering to visit the clinic.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the clinic physically changed—or rather, completely healed, according to Dr. York, the Emerald Pack’s physician. Nothing between then and a couple of days ago surfaces to mind.
How does someone lose their memory so often? Is that even possible?
Charlie nudges my arm. “What’s going on in that head of yours, little bird?”
I pause my steps and shift my attention to my surroundings, realizing we managed to walk halfway back to the mansion.
At first, I hesitate telling Charlie. I tried so hard to brush off my insecurities and concerns.
I pretended like everything that happened to me was no big deal.
I know my newfound family and the guards care about me.
I just don’t want to be a burden to them, and I especially don’t want to add to everything by telling them how I truly feel.
But this is Charlie. Like the Langhlan twins, he feels like a brother to me. I can trust him with my internal turmoil. I sigh and let the ramblings begin.
“What is wrong with me? I have completely blocked out so much of my life. I’m sixteen—or so I was told. Even so, I shouldn’t be losing my memory like this.”
Charlie steps in front of me, and I wave him off.
“Don’t tell me it’s from trauma. I already learned all about dissociative amnesia from the neurologist, Dr. York, and all the research I had done.
This is different, Charlie. Something is wrong.
I could accept my memories missing before I was found.
This time, though, it doesn’t make sense.
You don’t just go missing for five days and then wake up a completely different person.
You don’t just transform from looking like you were recently spit out of a meat grinder to this!
” I throw my hands, encompassing my face and other features. “I don’t understand what is happening!”
He places both hands on my shoulders. “I wish I had the right words to say to make you feel better, but I promise you, the Leads, especially Anders and Shadow, are working hard to investigate what happened to you back then, as well as this past week.”
“Shadow? I thought he was just a recruiting officer.”
He chuckles. “Shadow’s role with the guard is a little more enigmatic than everyone is led to believe.” He pats my shoulder before gently nudging me forward on the path home. “But if anyone is going to figure out what happened to you, it will be him.”
“Why him?”
He shrugs before answering, “Not sure if you noticed, but Shadow is…”
“Odd?” I think back to the first time I met Shadow—his forced smile, how stiff and uncomfortable he looked in his own skin. Somehow, that all changed when he returned with Anders to my room in the clinic.
He laughs. “I was going to say different. But I’m confident that if anyone will find the answers you are looking for, it will be him. He found you when no one else could.”
We’re a few yards away from the back of the mansion when Charlie’s phone pings.
“Hey, something is happening down at the recruits’ dorm. I should probably go check it out.”
“Thank you for hanging out with me.”
He flashes me a smile. “Anytime. I will see you in the morning for our last rehearsal before the guard ball.” He leaves me at the back door to the kitchen.
Darkness sits heavy in the kitchen, and the air hangs thick with a sickly menacing vibration. So different compared to the usual warmth that encompasses the room. A stagnant scent of sweat and cologne lingers in the air.
Someone, not a member of my family, has been in this room. A prickly, crawly sensation ghosts up my spine and raises the tiny hairs at the back of my neck. My breath quickens. Breathe, just breathe. Back up. Get out of the room. And find Charlie, I tell myself.
A nearby shuffling sound cuts through the ominous atmosphere. Warning bells in my head start to scream. My body tenses, ready to move. Someone is in here!
I spin around to run for the kitchen door when a hand clamps over my mouth and nose.
A large body presses against my back. Hot, moist breath brushes against the outer shell of my ear.
I jerk and squirm to escape his hold. An arm wraps around my body, pinning my arms down at my sides, giving me little room to attack or break free.
“Not one sound. Don’t move one muscle. If you escape, I will kill your parents sleeping in the master bedroom on the second floor,” he whispers in my ear.
I still my body and squeeze my eyes shut.
I need to get him out of the house and away from my family.
He nuzzles his nose against my hair and takes a deep breath. “I love the way you smell, so sweet. Do you taste as sweet as you smell?” His voice is low, laced with lust. He licks the side of my face and presses his lower body into my back.
I can feel how excited he is. It makes me want to throw up.
Then he bites my jaw, hard. Sharp pain explodes up to my temple and down my neck. I screech in response to the pain. His arm around me tightens.
“I told you to be a good girl.” The hand covering my mouth presses harder against my face. It's getting harder to breathe. His fingernails bite into my cheek.
I can’t breathe. I need air! My head starts to feel woozy. I slam my heel against his shin.
He doesn’t move. It’s like kicking a wall. The room starts to close in on me; my body goes slack before nothingness shuts down my mind.
The sound of fabric tearing brings me back to consciousness. I chance a quick look around. I’m no longer in the kitchen. The scents of damp earth, blooming alfalfa, and cow manure infiltrate my nose. This monster brought me to the pasture not far from the mansion.
I glance up to look my attacker in the eyes. His face fills my vision, and my eyes widen in surprise. Marcus Greystone’s cousin Boris Niles’s face looms directly over mine. Marcus blamed me for getting him kicked out of the program; now he’s probably here to extract revenge.
My hands ball into fists at my side. Pure rage fills every particle of my being. The crackle of my power surrounds me, filling me from within.
He lifts his upper body, pulls his fisted arm back, and delivers a blow to my face. Pain explodes along my cheek.
“Wake the fuck up!” he yells, teeth bare, upper lip curled in a sneer. “I want you present when I bury my dick deep inside of you. I want to feel you fight against me and hear you scream for mercy as I rob you of your innocence.”
I grasp his wrist with both hands. His horrible, filthy thoughts fill my head with what he plans to do to me. He wants to keep me alive just so he can toy with me and come back for more, over and over until he tires of me. Only when he loses the pleasure and peace that torturing me gives him.
Then, he will kill me, slowly, cutting me apart from limb to limb while I’m still alive, still breathing.
He plans to leave my head for last so he can stare into my eyes and watch the life bleed out from behind them.
Just before I push his disgusting thoughts out of my head, I catch it—a secret—hidden behind the corrupted, sick chaos of his mind. I glimpse secrets of the Resistance.
I gasp in surprise at everything flashing through my mind. This has never happened to me before. It was always my thoughts, my memories, in everyone else’s mind. My grip slightly slackens. He tears his hand back.
A powerful force whips my head to the side.
A burst of light pierces my eyes. Blood pools down my throat.
He yanks my head back and forces his mouth over mine, pushing his disgusting tongue into my mouth.
My anger grows with every touch, every invasion of my mouth.
White-hot light burns behind my eyelids.
A forceful gust of air bursts forward, pushing him back.
He takes me with him. “You disgusting magic wielder!”