Page 31 of Forget Me Twice

My shoulders drop as I see it. Up ahead is the gate which leads directly to the parking lot.

To my awaiting ride.

And some well-deserved stress relief.

For a moment,nobody moves; each of us transfixed by the retreating form of the ghost that has haunted us since our teens.

SabinemotherfuckingWinters.

No.

It’snother.

“Someone’s fucking with us,” I seethe. “Someone must have found out about us, sent a plant here on purpose.”

I’m only met by silence. My brothers don’t bother to point out how insane that sounds. But thisisinsane.

“Do you think it’shim?” I hate how shaky my voice sounds, the panic skittering across my skin like the buzzing of a wasp.

“Callum. Lake. Follow her.”

The cool delivery of Tristan’s command doesn’t fool us for a second.

Not when the bonds between this group run so fucking deep, they’re practically etched right into the fucking bones themselves. Not when the four of us are closer than blood, reading each other like human decoder rings—just a single glance is all it takes to betray the cracks running down the middle of that legendary Sinclair composure and self control.

Cracks that appeared the moment Lake lifted the new girl’s file.

Atlas says nothing. His face is a dark storm, glaring at the wrought-iron gate she just disappeared through. Not unusual. I’m actually surprised he spoke to her at all. I love the guy, but he’s been carrying around this damage foryears.

Damage with gnarled, tangled roots that lead their way back to our sass-mouthed specter.

My neck and shoulders are killing me. The tension trembling through my traps leaves me feeling like a recurve bow that’s been strung with strings too goddamned short.

What a fucking nightmare.

I pull in a long, labored breath, my lungs wrestling oxygen up and in through my nose.

I flex my fingers and clench them back into tight fists. Once. Twice.

It can’t beher.

Sabine.Motherfucking.Winters.

“Go,”Tristan barks.

This time, Lake and I don’t hesitate, heading quickly in the same direction as our imposter.

I was there for both her little stunts—in the dining hall and this morning. The new girl with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

What color are those eyes?

Does she haveSabine’seyes?

No, don’t go there. There’s no way it’s her.

I can’t lie though, she’s a new, wild kind of beautiful. All hard, spiny edges and attitude. A sharp, elfin face with nose and cheekbones to match. Expressive eyebrows and bold makeup. A generous mouth with a deep cupid’s bow. When she bared her teeth at Sloane, I saw a goddamn smiley piercing.

And then that gnarly as fuck scar running across her temple and disappearing into her hairline. She kinda has this larger-than-life, punk-rocker thing going on.

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