I could see it clearly. The images weren't distorted or fragmented like a dream—they were sharp, vivid, undeniable.
I wasn't at an airport. No. It was a rooftop. A private jet, dark in color, sat there with its engines already roaring to life. I was walking toward it, but something—no, someone—caught my attention.
The pilot. He was trying to climb down from the aircraft, panic written all over his face. And then—
A man. Mid-thirties. Bald head. He was running toward me, desperation in his eyes as he shouted something, his voice barely reaching me over the deafening sound of the engines.
"Go back!"
Before I could react—
Boom.
The explosion tore through the air, a violent burst of flames and metal. The impact sent me flying backward, my ears ringing, my body hitting the ground with force. My skin burned, my chest heaved, and the only thing I could hear was the dull, high-pitched ringing that drowned out everything else.
Pain.
It was unbearable.
I jolted awake, my eyes snapping open.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar, but the soft mattress beneath me wasn't. My body ached, a sticky layer of sweat clinging to my skin. Something damp rested on my forehead. A towel.
I was burning up. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. My fingers clenched the sheets, grounding me to the present. But even then, I knew.
That wasn't just a dream.
It was a memory.
I blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and was immediately met with three very distinct faces. Liam. Greg. Trevor.
"Hey, trickster."
Greg's voice was the first to break the silence, his tone light, but I could see the concern hidden beneath it. He gave me a small wave, as if I had just woken up from a casual nap.
I rolled my eyes. "It's Sara."
Greg turned to Trevor with a smirk. "Yep. She's back."
Trevor let out a breath of relief, but Liam—Liam just stared at me. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes locked onto mine as if trying to decipher something.
Was he...worried about me?
I scoffed internally. Liam? Worried about me? That's absurd.
I sat up slowly, wincing at the dull throb in my head. Greg immediately handed me a bottle of water, and I took it without a word, my throat dry. I took a small sip, grateful for the coolness as it slid down.
"How long was I out?" My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Trevor scratched the back of his head. "A few hours. You blacked out and scared the hell out of us."
"I don't scare that easily," Greg added, but the way his eyes flickered with something hesitant told me otherwise.
I glanced at Liam again, expecting him to say something, but he remained silent.
My fingers curled around the bedsheet as flashes of the memory resurfaced—the plane, the explosion, the man trying to warn me. Who was he? And why was I there?
A sick feeling settled in my stomach.
I wasn't just anyone. I wasn't some ordinary girl who had lost her memories.
Something about my past...
It was dangerous.
And the worst part?
I wasn't sure if I wanted to remember the rest.
"Are you okay?"
I nearly choked on my own breath. Did Liam just ask me that? Before I could even answer, the door slammed open like a scene straight out of a soap opera, and in rushed Ella and Evans. Their expressions screamed "What happened to our precious daughter?!"
Ella practically launched herself onto the bed, gripping my hands. "Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?"
"I—"
"We came as soon as we heard!"
Evans added, his brows furrowed in concern.
"I—"
"Do you need water? Food? A blanket?" Ella asked rapidly, feeling my forehead. "Oh dear, you're burning up! l'll go make you some herbal tea—
"NO!"
I shot up so fast I nearly fell off the bed. The last time I had her herbal tea, I swore I could taste suffering itself.
Trevor leaned in, whispering to Greg,
"The evil pot is about to hit the stove."
Greg nodded solemnly. "Yep. The wicked witch of the east has returned."
Before either of them could snicker any further.
SMACK!
Ella whacked them both on the head with expert precision. They yelped, their foreheads colliding with a dull thud.
"Idiots," she muttered, crossing her arms. "How long have you two been back? And you only show up now?" Trevor and Greg held their ears like scolded schoolboys. "We're sorry." they mumbled in unison.
Evans chuckled before turning to me.
"Do you need to see a doctor?"
I shook my head furiously. "Nope.
Totally good." Evans gave me a long look, then nodded. "Alright." Then, before Trevor or Greg could say another word, Ella grabbed them by the collars.
"Come on, you two," she said, dragging them toward the door."What? Why?" Trevor whined, struggling.
"You both need discipline."
Greg turned to me, eyes pleading.
"Trickster, help—"
The door slammed shut, cutting him off. And just like that, silence. I exhaled, finally able to breathe-until I noticed Liam still standing there. Arms crossed. Watching me.
Wait a minute...
I glanced around. The dark walls. The minimalist decor. The faint scent of Liam's cologne.
I was in his room.
I cleared my throat. "Uh... thanks fo-"
"Get up."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
Liam's expression remained unreadable. "Get up."
I frowned. "Why?"
"You're in my room. Go to yours." His tone was as dry as toast.
I scoffed, standing up with dramatic flair. "Right. Because I just magically appeared here."
Liam didn't blink. "You were about to die."
"I was not about to die!" I snapped.
His face remained impassive, but his eyes? Oh, they screamed disbelief.
I rolled my eyes, flipping my hair for extra sass. "Whatever. Enjoy your bed and your stupid room.! With exaggerated stomps, I marched toward the door like a toddler denied candy.
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