Page 20 of Montana Memory

Hunter exhaled sharply, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes flicked to me, then back to the phone. “Jace, Jada was injected with some sort of memory-loss drug. Can you see what you can find out on the black market?”

I stiffened.

Jace was silent for a second before his keyboard clacked again. “Yeah, but it’ll take me more than a minute to dig into it. I’ll need some time.”

Hunter didn’t look surprised. “How long?”

“A few days, and that’s if I can find anything at all,” Jace admitted. “Meanwhile, honestly, I’d start by talking to Caleb Moyer. He’s in on drug trafficking charges. That means connections. It’s possible he’s heard of something.”

Hunter was already shaking his head. “She can’t go there. If cops are looking for her, they’ll be watching for her to visit him.”

I swallowed. He was right.

“Which means you’re going,” Jace said, as if it was already decided.

Hunter didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. Just nodded once, like the thought had already crossed his mind.

“I’ll get you on the visitor list,” Jace said. “You’ll be in by tomorrow. I’ll get back to you with anything I find out online.”

The call ended with a final click, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

I had more answers now, but they weren’t enough. They weren’t even close.

My brother was in prison. The man I’d been involved with was a violent criminal. The police were after me but hadn’t charged me with anything. And someone had wiped my memory with a drug so obscure, even a tech genius like Jace didn’t have immediate intel on it.

I should have felt something solid—anger, grief, regret. But all I had was a hollow ache. Like my brain couldn’t catch up with the weight of what I’d learned.

Across from me, Hunter rolled his shoulders, exhaling like he was shaking off the tension of the conversation. His gaze landed on mine, steady and unreadable. “First thing we do is figure out if there’s an antidote.”

His voice was quiet but firm, like this was a mission, something with clear steps and a tangible end.

I swallowed. “And if there’s not?”

Something flickered in his expression, but he didn’t let it settle. “Then we figure out a plan forward.”

I licked my lips, fingers fidgeting against my thighs. “And my brother?”

“I’ll get what I can out of him,” Hunter said simply, like it wasn’t a question, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

I looked at him then,reallylooked at him. He had no reason to help me. No real connection to me, other than the fact that he’d pulled me out of that hospital and kept me from getting arrested.

And yet, he was still here.

I let out a slow breath, feeling something settle in my chest, something I didn’t want to name. “Thank you.”

He held my gaze, his green eyes unreadable. “Get some rest, Jada.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

But somehow, with him here with me, the weight of everything didn’t feel quite as crushing as it had a few minutes ago.

Chapter 7

Hunter

The prison smelled distinctly of bad coffee, the kind that sat too long on a burner and turned to sludge. The visitation room wasn’t much better in terms of improving morale—just rows of metal stools bolted to the floor in front of thick glass partitions, the phone receiver dangling on either side. I took a seat in one of the booths, pulling the brim of my cap lower.

Slouched shoulders. Loose posture. A man waiting for someone but not eager about it.

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