He kicked me.

The pain in my ribs ripped through my confession, shutting me up. Heat spread through my side, licking with fire, singeing my already scarred skin.

I sucked in a ragged gasp, holding my side. My eyes turned glassy with sadness and regret.

Kill squatted over me, seething with ferocity. “I’m done with you playing on my pain. I’m done being manipulated. I told you I’d been betrayed in my past, and I won’t let some whore twist my memories and make me believe a heinous lie. You’re ripping my fucking heart out and I won’t let you do it anymore!”

“It isn’t a lie. Tell me how I know things! Tell me how I could have those memories if it wasn’t the truth!”

Grabbing my hair, he jerked my eyes to look into his. “You’re a liar and a con artist. They told me where they stole you from. I know who you are, and all this bullshit about loving me—it makes me want to kill you for having the nerve to hurt me like that.”

Shoving me away, he threw the eraser on the floor and stormed toward the door. “I’m done. I never want to see you again. Spread your lies somewhere else, sweetheart. We’re through.”

He slammed the door.

The scrape of a key sounded in the lock.

He left me to my doom.

Chapter Thirteen

I was loved once.

I loved in return.

I gave myself completely, utterly¸ and with no boundaries.

And I received her love unequivocally.

Owning something so precious made me the richest man alive. But losing it made me sink into destitution so bleak and damned, I had no chance of crawling out of the darkness.

I didn’t want to.

I couldn’t.

There was nothing but pain left for me.

Now I loved no one.

Now I was feared.

It was time to make her fear me.

She pushed me too far and I refused to let her hurt me further.

So I’d hurt her first.

I’d hurt her to continue surviving.

—Kill

The door opened a few hours later.

My eyes soared up, hoping and fearing Kill had returned to hurt me worse. Not that he could. It wasn’t the bruise on my ribs that hurt me every time I breathed, but the betrayal of thinking I understood him. I thought he was broken… in need of someone with the truth to glue him back together again.

But he’d shown me the stark reality.

There was no fixing someone who didn’t want to see past the pain. He truly believed I wasn’t her. His conviction was so absolute it robbed me of my own belief and made me apologetic for all the agony I’d caused.

I’m not her. Or am I?

The questions ran around and around inside my head.

I wanted to know how the memories of a dead girl existed in my tangled brain, and I knew the only way that would happen was if I broke through to Arthur and not Kill.

I looked up gingerly, trying to figure out what to say.

I’m sorry.

Give me a chance to explain.

Please, help me to understand.

But it wasn’t Kill who’d come for me.

Standing in the doorway was a Pure Corruption brother. I stared into the blue eyes of the black-haired, mohawked biker called Grasshopper.

He looked younger in the sunlight than he did when covered in blood from battle. His lips were full and set into a gentle but firm smile, and he had a cute dimple on his right cheek. “Hi,” he said.

His forehead furrowed as he stepped toward me. “Um—you okay?”

I locked my arms harder around my knees. I hadn’t moved from the carpet, leaning against the bed, twirling the Libra eraser in my fingertips. Kill hadn’t been thinking straight when he threw it at my feet—it was obviously a treasured belonging.

I wished it was magic: twist it one way and unlock the truth, spin it another and have everything lost be found. But no matter how much I held it, it didn’t give me what I needed.

“Yes.” I ran a hand through my hair, hoping I didn’t look like a domestic violence case who’d been crying. I hadn’t been crying—I felt… numb. Quakingly sad and confused.

Grasshopper’s eyes fell to my naked leg beneath my skirt and the colorful ink of flowers, small unicorn, and petals permanently transforming my thigh, calf, and toes. “Nice piece.”

I let my arms fall from my position, shooting my leg out and resting it on the carpet. “It is nice. Pity I don’t remember why I had it done, or where, or even the pain.”

His eyes widened as he ducked in front of me. “You don’t remember the pain? What—is that like a childbirth thing where they say the girl never remembers being torn in two by a fucking spawn and then a year later does it all over again?”

I cringed, laughing uncomfortably. “Thanks for painting such a lovely image inside my head.” My fingers traced a strange equation over my knee, which faded into a scripted line that I couldn’t read from the angle I rested. “Not quite. I seem to have forgotten a lot of basic things.”

Grasshopper sniffed, pushing upright to tower over me. Holding out his hand, he said, “Well, you’re still alive, so you know how to eat, sleep, and communicate. That’s something.”

I eyed his open palm. Suspicion flowed swiftly in my blood. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here? I haven’t seen any of the men from the compound since that night. Arthur said he lived alone.”

Grasshopper burst into laughter, his blue eyes sparkling. “Arthur? Fuck, you call him Arthur? No wonder he’s pissed off.”