The room came back in pieces.
First, the music.
Low and distant, vibrating through the walls of the VIP room.
Then the warmth of the velvet beneath me.
Then Ezra.
"Rita?"
I blinked.
His face was the first thing I saw.
Those impossible blue eyes were fixed on mine, and for once, there was no teasing in them.
Only concern.
I swallowed.
"I'm okay."
It was automatic.
The answer people gave when they didn't want anyone asking questions.
Ezra didn't look convinced.
"You weren't here for a second."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You were staring at nothing."
I rubbed my temple.
"I just…"
The memory was still there.
Not completely.
More like pieces of a photograph.
A woman.
Dark hair.
A pale hand pressed against glass.
Tears.
And a voice.
She can't stay here.
I shivered.
Ezra noticed.
"What did you see?"
"I don't know."
"Try."
I looked at him.
"I saw a woman."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What did she look like?"
I closed my eyes.
Dark hair.
That was all I could hold onto.
"She was scared."
Ezra's expression changed.
"Scared of what?"
"I don't know."
I opened my eyes.
"But she was looking at someone."
"Who?"
"A man."
My heart began beating faster.
"He was holding…"
I stopped.
"Eliot?"
I shook my head.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Ezra leaned closer.
"Then who?"
"I don't know."
I hated those words.
I hated not knowing.
I pressed my fingers against my shoulder.
The tattoo felt warm beneath them.
Ezra noticed.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
I paused.
"It's just warm."
Kael finally spoke from beside the door.
"Don't touch it."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because you don't know what it's doing."
That irritated me.
"It's a tattoo, Kael."
His expression didn't change.
"That's what you've been told."
The room went quiet.
I stared at him.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer.
Ezra did.
"It means we need to be careful."
I looked between them.
"You two are starting to make me feel like I'm the only person in this room who doesn't know what's going on."
Ezra's gaze softened.
"Maybe you are."
That hurt more than it should have.
I stood.
"I need air."
Ezra immediately stood too.
"I'll come with you."
I looked at him.
"Is that because you're my patron or because you're worried about me?"
His mouth curved.
"Both."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"Possessive."
"Protective."
"Same thing."
"Not even close."
I shook my head.
But when he held out his hand, I took it.
His fingers closed around mine.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
For some reason, that simple touch made the strange pressure inside my head ease.
We walked toward the door.
Kael followed several steps behind.
I stopped.
"Wait."
Ezra turned.
"What?"
I looked toward the hallway.
Something had changed.
I could hear everything.
The bass from the main room.
Glasses clinking at the bar.
Someone laughing.
A woman's heels clicking against the floor.
A door opening somewhere down the hall.
I could hear all of it.
Clearly.
Too clearly.
My eyes widened.
"Do you hear that?"
Ezra looked at me.
"Hear what?"
"All of that."
I pointed toward the hallway.
Kael's expression changed.
"You can hear them?"
I looked at him.
"Yes."
His face went completely still.
"That's not normal."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he opened the VIP door.
The hallway was empty.
I stared.
"But someone was there."
Kael looked down the corridor.
"No one is."
"I heard them."
"What did you hear?"
I hesitated.
"A heartbeat."
Ezra's gaze snapped toward me.
"Whose?"
"I don't know."
The heartbeat stopped.
My stomach dropped.
I grabbed Ezra's arm.
"There."
He looked at me.
"What?"
"It stopped."
He stared at me for a moment.
Then he looked at Kael.
Neither said anything.
I hated that.
"What?"
Kael's voice was quieter this time.
"Nothing."
I groaned.
"Seriously?"
Ezra's mouth twitched.
"You're beginning to dislike that word."
"I already hate it."
That earned the smallest smile from him.
Then something caught my attention.
A scent.
Faint.
Sweet.
Metallic.
Almost like rain on stone.
I stopped.
"What is that?"
Ezra looked around.
"What?"
"That smell."
Kael's expression changed.
"What does it smell like?"
I closed my eyes.
I didn't know how to explain it.
It made my chest ache.
It felt familiar.
Like something I'd forgotten.
"Home."
The word slipped out.
Then the memory came.
A woman's arms around me.
Her heartbeat beneath my ear.
A trembling hand running through my hair.
A whisper.
My little girl.
My eyes flew open.
I gasped.
Ezra caught me before my knees gave out.
"Rita!"
I grabbed his shirt.
"I know her."
"Who?"
"The woman."
His face changed.
"What woman?"
"The one from before."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
She was there again.
Not clearly.
Never clearly.
But enough.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Tears in her eyes.
She was holding me.
Someone stood behind her.
A man.
His voice was low.
Angry.
Afraid.
They'll find her.
The woman held me tighter.
She can't stay here.
Then—
Nothing.
I opened my eyes.
Ezra was still holding me.
"Rita, look at me."
I did.
His eyes were the only thing keeping me grounded.
"I don't know who they were," I whispered.
"But you remember them."
"A little."
"That's enough."
"No."
I shook my head.
"It's not."
My fingers moved toward my shoulder.
The tattoo was burning.
Hotter than before.
Ezra looked down.
A thin red line seemed to run through the center of the design.
Then it disappeared.
I stared.
"Did you see that?"
Ezra's face had gone serious.
"Yes."
Kael stepped closer.
His eyes were fixed on the tattoo.
For the first time since I'd met him, he looked genuinely afraid.
"What?"
He looked at me.
Then Ezra.
"Nothing."
I laughed bitterly.
"You're all terrible at lying."
Ezra's hand tightened around mine.
"I'll find out what's happening."
I looked up at him.
"And if you don't like what you find?"
His expression hardened.
"Then I'll deal with it."
Something inside me softened.
I hated how safe he could make me feel.
Especially when everything else suddenly felt wrong.
I looked down at my tattoo.
For years, it had been nothing more than a part of me.
A piece of ink.
A memory of Eliot.
A reminder of the family we'd lost.
But now…
I wasn't so sure.
Maybe the tattoo wasn't changing.
Maybe I was.
Eliot
Eliot woke with a gasp.
His hand flew to his shoulder.
Pain.
Hot.
Sharp.
Familiar.
He ripped the collar of his shirt aside.
The tattoo was burning.
He stared at it.
For years, it had remained unchanged.
Tonight, something was different.
A faint red line had appeared through the center of the design.
His breathing stopped.
"No."
He knew what it meant.
He'd always known.
His eyes closed.
And for one terrible moment, he remembered her.
Rita.
Sixteen years old.
Confused.
Terrified.
Her hand in his.
The tattoo being placed against her skin.
Her asking him why they needed matching ones.
His answer.
Because we're family.
The lie had been necessary.
At least, that's what he'd told himself.
He'd promised their parents.
He'd promised Rita.
And he'd promised himself.
He would keep her safe.
No matter what it cost him.
Eliot opened his eyes.
The pain in his shoulder intensified.
He looked toward the photograph on his nightstand.
Rita was smiling back at him.
Completely unaware.
He whispered her name.
"Rita…"
His hand closed over the tattoo.
He knew what was happening.
She was beginning to remember.
And once the memories started coming back, he couldn't be sure what would return with them.
His jaw tightened.
He reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
If he called her now, she'd ask questions.
Questions he wasn't ready to answer.
Not yet.
He looked down at the burning mark.
"Please," he whispered.
"Not yet."