Page 177 of When Hearts Remember

My muscles seize, and I think back to Ethan and Elias’s warnings about their investigation.

“No,” I whisper, inspecting the documents, “Fleur Entertainment Holdings Operations Account.” One of the originating bank accounts’ sender’s information is Ethan’s company. “But why?”

These items are over a decade old. What was he involved in?

I click on a jpeg file. My heart stops when I flag the words, “The Association.”

I remember reading about it, the suspected shadowy organization that allegedly murdered a high-profile businessman.

Then I read the text messages in the folder.

My heart stops. I slap my hands on my desk, accidentally jolting the laptop, and the flash drive topples to the floor.

“Shit.” Quickly, I squat down and pick it up. How did I not know about this? Did I never open this folder in the past?

Something in my gut tells me this is the first time I’ve seen this information.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I need to talk to Ethan and Elias. I need to tell them what I’ve found.

Without looking above me, I get up.

And accidentally slam my head on the hard edge of my desk.

Pain explodes across my skull. I drop to the floor, the sharp pain robbing me of my breath.

The past drags me under again.

The music thumps loudly. Muted conversations and clinking of glasses filter through the walls. The hallway is dark, like someone purposely turned off the lights.

I should turn around. A sixth sense tells me I’m not supposed to be here.

But my body refuses to listen. My feet inch forward of their own accord.

I need to find Tay Tay. The party is over. Everyone from the ballet studio went home, and we’ve had our fun.

There’s still school tomorrow.

I should turn around and leave. I’m obviously lost.

Then I hear it. Screams. Gut-wrenching screams. The sounds of fabric ripping, skin slapping against skin.

My blood curdles and my breath freezes in my lungs.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of the door at the end of the corridor. The cries are louder and whatever’s going on inside the room is utter terror.

It’s something that’ll change everything as I know it.

Holding my breath, I peek through the gap, and what I see has me slapping my palm over my mouth.

Men over women—multiple women, all drunk or incapacitated.

An orgy—an unwanted orgy.

My feet inch backward. I need to get out. I need to call the cops.

They can’t see me.

But then, something stops me.

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