I open my mouth to scream, but he slaps his hand across my mouth.

“Don’t,” he warns, his stormy-eyed gaze boring into me. “You’ll scare your brother and sister.”

I jerk back and hiss, “Why are you here? Wait. Is that your silver car out there?”

“Yeah. So?”

“You were following me from the airport?” I hiss. “Why?”

He shrugs again. “To make sure you were okay.”

I blink at him. “Why? And how did you get into my house?”

His gaze skims the framed photos on the wall. “I told you I’d be in touch, and making sure you’re okay is part of that deal.”

I back away from him. “I thought that meant you’d call or something. Not fly to America, follow me around town, then show up at my house.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” His gaze settles on me. “I’m actually from here, so technically, I’m only returning home.”

“You’re from Honeyton? How is that possible? You look around my age and everyone around here knows everyone, and I …” I’m so confused, amongst a million other things.

What on earth is Milo doing with that guy? What the hell is The Unveiling? And who the fuck is this Zane guy?

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Unlike you, I wasn’t lucky enough to be placed with a good family after I was released from the warehouse. I got stuck with some people who had all sorts of beliefs about not leaving the house …” He winces at some distant memory then swiftly clears his throat. “Anyway, yeah, hardly anyone around here knows me.”

“Wait … Warehouse?” My heart slams against my chest as I recall the photo I found in my parents’ closet and the photos I found on the internet. Is that what he’s talking about?

He studies me curiously. “So, you really don’t remember any of it?”

“Any of what—”

I nearly jump out of my skin as thunder booms from outside.

He thrums his fingers against the sides of his legs, studying me even more closely. “You’re afraid of the storm. That’s understandable, considering your curse.”

“What the hell do you know about my curse?” I snap, breathing ravenously.

“As much as I know about my own curse.” He sighs as I continue to gape at him. “All right, since it’s starting to become clear you’re not pretending about not knowing any of this or who you really are, I’ll give you a recap of your life before this.” He gestures at the foyer. “Your real name is Madelyn Jessamine. Real last name, unknown. You were rescued from an experimental drug facility when you were seven years old. The experiments done on you left you with a lot of side effects, most of which have faded, except for your curse of being able to feel omens through storms and occasionally hearing voices. And apparently, you have memory loss. I pretty much assumed that when I saw you at the police department. Although, I sort of hoped I was wrong.” He blows out a breath, seeming disheartened over something.

“Anyway, during your time at the warehouse, you were often forced to participate in an activity call The Unveiling, a name that might sound familiar to you. The rules are pretty basic. They put two experimental drug subjects into a ring together and threaten to kill them if one of them doesn’t kill the other.”

“But I … I don’t …” My mind is racing so swiftly I can barely speak, and my legs threaten to buckle. I shake my head, feeling sick to my stomach. “You’re lying. I couldn’t be part of something like that. There’s no way.” Memories flick through my mind, warning me that I’m trying to live in the land of denial. That I was. Deep down, I know I was.

He crooks a brow. “So, you’re saying you didn’t get dragged to The Unveiling a couple weeks ago and are now being threatened by the people who run it?”

“No … I don’t know.” I massage my temples. “Maybe I was at some sort of thing called The Unveiling, but I can’t remember much about that night. And that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of experimental drug subject. I would remember if I am.” Yeah, like you remember everything else.

“Were,” he corrects. “You haven’t been one since you were rescued.” He hesitantly steps toward me. “For the last couple years, the people who run The Unveiling have been tracking down the kids who were in the drug experimental facilities and forcing them to return to the game.” He takes another step toward me, so close the tips of his boots clip my bare feet. “You are one of those kids. So is Zoe.”

I don’t know what to think of everything he’s saying, but the one thing I hope carries some truth. “Is?”

He nods. “She’s still alive.”

Tears burn my eyes. Tears of relief. “Where is she?”

Hesitation crosses his face. “The people who run The Unveiling still have her. Neither of you would kill each other that night, so they want a rematch—or a Reclaiming, as they call it—or else they lose a lot of money.” He points at the card I’m holding. “That’s what’s going to happen tomorrow if you show up.”

I don’t want to believe him. Well, except the part about Zoe being alive. But I can’t get past the photo I found of myself in front of that warehouse and the memories that have been haunting my mind for weeks now. And then there’s Zoe’s past, or lack thereof. Maybe this is why I knew hardly anything personal about her.

What really makes me question if Zane is telling the truth is: he knows about my gift.

“Who are you, exactly?” I question. “And why are you here, helping me?”

“Because it’s my job.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, the movement carrying a hint of familiarity.

I’ve met him before … and not just at the police station.

“I work for an undercover agency now. My division helps old test subjects like you,” he continues, lowering his hand from my face.

“But I thought you said you were one yourself.”

“I was.”

“Then what’s your curse?”

He glances at my lips then looks away, staring at the wall. “That’s my secret. Not yours.”

“Yet, you seem to know so much about me,” I grit out, my fingers curling around the card. “Seem being the key word.”

He glances at me with his brow curved upward. “You think I’m lying?”

I shrug. “You have no proof.”

He rolls his eyes. “Other than I know everything about you.”

“Maybe someone told you all that stuff.”

“Does anyone know about your little curse?” he challenges.

Milo. But he wouldn’t tell anyone. Then again, he did just walk off with that guy who handed me this stupid card.

“Yes. And maybe he told you.”

He eyes me over then snatches ahold of my hand and tugs me toward the stairs.

“Where are we going?” I trip after him as he hurries up the stairs and toward my parents’ room, which is thankfully in the opposite direction of Nik’s room.

The last thing I want is for Zhara or Nik to see me with some strange guy who thinks I’m adopted and was experimented on.

He’s crazy. He must be crazy, right?

When we reach my parents’ bedroom, he goes straight to the trunk in the back of the closet.

“Hey, you can’t just go through their stuff …” I trail off as he takes out a lock pick from his pocket and picks the lock within a second flat.

He steps back and gestures at the trunk. “You need proof. There it is.”

I almost don’t budge, fearing what’s inside. However, the need to know makes me step toward the trunk.

Kneeling, I start going through the papers, photos, and documentation of a life I spent locked up in a warehouse. Medical records prove that I had drugs injected into my system and that I was used for testing. The test results reveal I was in tune with storms, but as a side effect, I heard voices. The doctor couldn’t figure out where the voices came from. And like Zane said, I left the warehouse around the age of seven and went to live with the Bakers, who eventually adopted me and became my parents. There are also medical records that state I suffer from memory loss and fear of storms.

“I don’t … I can’t …” Tears veil my vision. “How did you know this was in here?”

“I work undercover. It’s my job to know about secret stuff.” Zane crouches beside me and places an unsteady hand on my back. “I know this is a lot to take in, but it’ll get easier. I promise.”

“What about Zoe?” I whisper, hugging my knees to my chest.

“The agency is currently working on saving her.” He traces his fingers up and down my back, the movement again ringing with familiarity. “But we need your help.”

I nod, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I want to help.” More tears spill from my eyes as something occurs to me. “Zane, this guy named Milo … He’s an old friend of mine. He was here earlier, and he—”

“You need to stay away from him,” he warns in a clipped tone.

I twist around to meet his gaze. “Why?”

“Because he’s dangerous.” His jaw muscles twitch as he grits his teeth. “He works for the enemy now.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” I shake my head, refusing to believe Milo could be part of such a horrible thing.

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.” He pushes to his feet and offers me his hand. “Now, come on. There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Or, well, re-meet.”

I don’t take his hand. Instead, I stumble to my feet on my own, veering toward a panic attack. “I can’t go anywhere right now. I need to take care of my brother and sister and that damn broken window. And I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be working for the enemy or whatever.”

This can’t be true.

It can’t.

I’m normal.

This is all a dream.

You know that’s not true.

He gives me a tolerable look. “If you want to save Zoe, you need to get your head out your ass and accept reality. If you don’t, there’s a good chance Zoe will die.”

Having thought I lost her once, I want to save Zoe. Yet I don’t want to go anywhere alone with a total stranger. That’s what started this crazy mess to begin with.

“I don’t feel comfortable going anywhere with you when I don’t even know you.”

His lips twitch as he searches my eyes. “Don’t worry; this person you need to talk to is coming here.” He offers me his hand again.

Sighing, I put my hand in his. “Who are they?”

“My boss.” He pulls me along. “And yours, if you agree to help us.”

I don’t know what to say, what to believe. So, I do the only thing I can do. I let him lead me out of the room and toward the living room, trying to ignore the impending dread filling my body as thunder and lightning take over the sky. But it’s all I can think about.

Well, that is, until I step into the living room and see …

“Dad?” I blink and blink again. No matter how many times I try to see past what I think is a hallucination, my dad remains standing in the living room, alive and fully breathing.

That’s when I realize my life has been nothing but a lie.

That nothing is what it seems.

And that Zane might just be telling the truth about everything.