Page 178 of When Hearts Remember

Thick raven hair, slender willowy limbs, the beautiful dress I lent her earlier that night.

No!

I bolt forward, not caring about my safety. I need to rip the man off her. Shit, he’s tucking himself back into his pants. The deed is done.

It’s too late.

Then I see the blond hair. The familiar frame. The profile I recognize.

No. No. No.

My mind spins, frantic, I blink, hoping I’m actually asleep and in the throes of a nightmare.

But no, he’s still there.

I need to stop him… I need to stop him.

I need to put him away. Another man steps into my vision. He’s murmuring something, a slimy smirk on his face.

Uncle Ian grunts, his face flushed. He responds in rapid French…calling the guy Archambeau. Something about The Association.

Evidence. I need evidence.

Hands trembling, I take out my phone, swipe to my camera app, and click record.

Then I hear thundering footsteps coming from my right.

My mind blanks, my head still throbbing, and the next thing I know, I find myself curled up on the floor of my apartment, my fingers knotted in my hair, tears soaking my face.

Tay.

Tay.

Oh my fucking shit. Tay.

I draw in quick breaths—one right after the other—but my lungs don’t seem to be intaking enough oxygen.

I can’t breathe.

This can’t be real. These can’t be memories, can they? It can’t be.

Then I think about Taylor’s face in the hospital whenever I brought up the past. My gut feeling that she’s been through something dark but doesn’t want to tell me. The way the blood rushed from her face at the Christmas Ball when I told her I was remembering things from my accident.

Is this what she’s been hiding?

The fragments of my memories collide with each other in my mind—the threatening phone call, what I witnessed—and a sudden wave of nausea threatens to purge my stomach of whatever I ate earlier today.

My accident wasn’t an accident. I suspected that from the brief flash of memories, but there was always an element of uncertainty. Why would anyone want to hurt me?

Now I know. I saw something I shouldn’t have seen.

I was supposed to die in the car crash.

My fingers shake. I quickly scramble back up and grab my phone from my desk to pull out my contacts.

Tay. I need to talk to Tay.

I need to find out what happened. Screw the medical trial.

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