Page 25 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

“Skylar,” Liam says.

I glance at him and raise my eyebrows. “What kind of girl do you think I am, Liam? Gullible?”

He narrows his eyes.

“And what kind of pissing contest have you gotten yourself into with Mitch? He’s nice, unlike you—”

He lunges for me.

I yelp, but I’m not fast enough to avoid him. One hand wraps around the back of my head, and the other covers my mouth.

“What kind of girl do I think you are?” he whispers. “Does it matter?”

I shake my head, trying to dislodge him. I grab his wrists, but his grip only tightens over my mouth. Pain lances through my skull as he tugs my hair, pulling my head back.

“Stop,” I say against his palm.

“No.”

I growl again.

He’s never been this physical with me—not until last week. Or, rather, not until the night the video got posted.

Sometimes I wake up tangled in my sheets and the panic is so deep, I can’t get back to sleep.

Sometimes I dream of Liam hovering over me, tracing the rope on my wrists.

I remember that now, as he holds my mouth shut.

The brilliant blue sky over his shoulder, and the agony…

Wait.

I blink.

“Get off.” I shove him with surprising force, and he does—he steps back.

Breathe, I order myself.

The boxes in the corner of my mind are rattling. The monsters in them want to be set free.

I double over and lean my elbows on my thighs, struggling to take a breath.

Liam gathers my hair back, and it takes me a second to realize he’s not only collecting my hair but running his nails along my scalp. It’s a stupid thing my mother used to do when I was scared.

“What was that?” My voice trembles, but I’m more shocked that it brought out a childhood memory than anything.

And who’s to say it was even a memory?

I straighten, and his hands slip away from my hair. A wild feeling builds inside me, like adrenaline. Maybe it’s more like fear.

He tilts his head. “Have you forgotten all of it?”

“Dr. Penn says amnesia surrounding trauma is normal.” I realize I’m being defensive, but I don’t think I can scrub the tone from my voice. “And we’ve worked hard on coping with it. I don’t remember what happened, just that something did. I’m lucky my brain didn’t shatter into a million pieces.”

He contemplates me. “We never spoke of it, so… it makes sense.”

“Spoke of… You were there?” I glare at him. “You know something.”