Page 2 of The Revenge

“Here.” Royal holds a cup, which matches the last one, in front of me. “It’s warm water with honey. It will help your throat.”

My right and dominant wrist has been throbbing like other parts of my body since I woke up, so I sit back and accept the cup from Royal with my left. The water isn’t steaming, but there’s a soothing warmth to it as it passes down my throat again.

“Who—?”

“Syn!” Royal snaps.

Syn presses his lips together as he folds his arms. A moment passes before he speaks, and this time, the anger has been dialed back. “Who did this?”

I want to repeat my previous answer to that same question. Even though my memory is hazy, and I’m sure it wasn’t Syn himself, he’d been angry enough to want to kill me the last time I’d seen him. Of course, he wouldn’t get his hands dirty, but I fully believe him capable of getting someone else to do it.

“Syn didn’t do this,” Royal tells me when I don’t answer. “I know what you’re thinking, but he—we—were with the Elite when you were attacked.”

Gemini shrugs, making me move. “Plus, if Syn did it, you wouldn’t be sitting here alive. And if we’d helped him, you sure as hell wouldn’t have been found.”

From experience, I know Gemini’s brain is wired a little differently than everyone else’s, and while his nonchalance is certainly creepy, I believe him.

I’m not sure if my fear level is accurately matching the situation, because despite this, I don’t feel uneasy around him like I probably should.

“Victoria.” The use of my actual name from Syn is more alarming than Gemini’s admission, considering he usually doeseverything in his power to address me by anything else. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember.”

“How can you not remember who tried to kill you?” Syn asks in disbelief.

“Because her brain has been starved of oxygen,” Gemini tells him.

“Since when are you an expert in memory loss,Dr. Remington?”

“Since I was seven and realized I could ask Google questions to get answers to anything I wanted to know, like what side effects there are to someone surviving a strangulation.”

Now I don’t know if I should be flattered by Gemini’s answer, but pointing out what happened sends a shiver down my spine.

Gemini looks down at me, his head at an angle. “Here’s the thing, Vixen. Whoever did this is still out there, and considering there’s still a blizzard raging around us, there’s a good chance he’s still on campus, so we could find him.”

“Unless you don’t know because you didn’t recognize them?” Royal asks.

Did I recognize them?”

I look around the room, hoping there’s something to give me a clue. Only, the room I’m in isn’t mine—or at least, it’s not the room Royal and Gemini allowed me to stay in. That one is cream and gold. This is Royal’s bedroom.

From the little of my reflection I can see, combined with how my body protests to every move I make, maybe I shouldn’t want to remember.

But since Cole’s arrest, there have been far too many unanswered questions, and I’ll be damned if I let another person get away with a crime. Even if it is Synclair Keyingham.

Especiallyif it’s Synclair Keyingham.

Pulling back the covers, I turn and ignore the way my muscles contract in waves of pain before I dangle my legs over the side of the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gemini asks.

Instead of answering, mainly because my throat is burning enough already, I set my feet on the floor. Before I can stand, Royal is in front of me. I glare up at him, but he offers me a hand instead of trying to stop me. Much as I want to reject it, I’m not sure my body feels strong enough to manage by myself just yet.

I’m barely upright before I’m questioning this decision. My legs feel so stiff, I’m not sure I can even walk. As I look down at myself, I realize I’m wearing clothes that aren’t mine.

To be fair, since moving into Denali House, Syn has provided all my clothes, so really, there weren’t many clothes here that were mine anyway. These are probably Royal’s. Of the three of them, and as a member of the basketball team, I know he owns sweats. Gemini might have a pair, but he’s a skinny jeans guy, and there’s probably more chance of finding a Santa outfit in Syn’s closet than a pair of navy sweats.

On my top, I hadn’t processed that I was wearing an oversized sweater with James Keyingham University in silver embroidered on the chest when I stare at myself in the mirror.

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