CHAPTER 43

Ghosts of the Past

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt.

A sharp, splitting ache buried deep in my skull, like something was trying to claw its way out. I pressed my palm against my temple, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. The room swayed, and the cold warehouse walls around me blurred at the edges.

I was losing control.

Again.

"Hey." Riley's voice was distant, muffled, like she was speaking through water. I barely registered the hand she placed on my arm. "Nathan, what's wrong?"

I jerked away before I could stop myself, my pulse hammering against my ribs. My vision swam, flashes of light and shadow twisting in my mind. The headache grew worse, splitting into something deeper—something not entirely physical.

Memories.

They were coming back.

Unbidden, unwanted, unraveling like threads torn from a tapestry.

And I had no idea how to stop them.

"Talk to me," Riley urged, stepping in front of me. I could feel her eyes on me, searching for answers I didn't have. "Nathan, what is it?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. But that only made it worse.

The memories slammed into me like a freight train.

Gunfire.

Blood on my hands.

A body crumpling to the floor.

A sharp inhale ripped from my lungs as my knees nearly buckled. I reached out blindly, catching myself against a rusted metal beam. The cold steel burned against my fingertips.

Someone was screaming.

No—someone had screamed.

In the memory.

A voice I didn't recognize, raw with fear.

I had pulled the trigger.

I had killed someone.

But I didn't know who.

I forced my eyes open, gasping for breath. The warehouse around me was still, unchanged. But my hands—

They were shaking.

Riley took another step forward, wary but determined. "Nathan," she said carefully, "you're scaring me."

I let out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through my hair. "Yeah? Join the club."

She hesitated, studying me. I knew what she saw—sweat slicked across my forehead, my hands trembling at my sides, my breathing shallow.

Weakness.

I hated it.

"You need to tell me what's going on," she pressed.

I shook my head, pushing off the beam and taking a step back. "I don't even know how to explain it."

"Try."

I clenched my jaw.

I didn't want to.

I didn't want to admit that pieces of my past—the past I had chosen to erase—were clawing their way back. That the memories weren't just fragments anymore. They were real.

And one of them proved that I was a killer.

"Julian was right," I murmured.

Riley stiffened. "About what?"

I exhaled sharply, my pulse still erratic. "I erased my past for a reason."

She crossed her arms. "And?"

"And I think I know why."

Silence stretched between us. I could feel the weight of her stare, heavy with questions. I wasn't ready for them.

But Riley had never been one to back down.

"Then tell me," she said. "What did you remember?"

I hesitated. The words felt foreign, like they didn't belong in my mouth.

But I forced them out anyway.

"I killed someone."

Riley's breath hitched. Just for a second. But I caught it.

I looked away. "I don't know who. I don't know why. But I pulled the trigger, and they—" My throat tightened. "They died."

The confession hung in the air between us, thick and suffocating.

Riley didn't move.

Didn't speak.

And for the first time, I was afraid of what she might say.

Or worse—what she wouldn't.

"You don't know the full story," she finally said.

I let out a sharp laugh, bitter and hollow. "I know enough."

She shook her head. "No, you don't. You don't know if it was self-defense. You don't know if you were protecting someone. You're filling in the blanks with the worst possible outcome."

I met her gaze. "And what if the worst outcome is the truth?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came.

That was answer enough.

I swallowed hard, my hands still trembling at my sides. "I can't—I can't do this here."

Riley nodded once, her expression unreadable. "Then let's go."

I blinked. "Go where?"

"To Julian."

I stiffened. "Are you serious?"

"You want answers, don't you?"

I scoffed. "From him? He's the reason we're in this mess."

"He's also the only one who knows the truth."

I shook my head. "No. No way in hell. Julian doesn't give people answers—he gives them riddles. Manipulations. Lies."

"Then we make him tell the truth."

I let out a humorless laugh. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Riley's gaze hardened. "We make him think he's winning. That you're breaking. That you're ready to come back."

My stomach twisted. "Come back to what?"

Her expression didn't waver.

And that scared me.

I swallowed. "You actually think I was one of them, don't you?"

Riley didn't answer right away. But when she did, her voice was quiet. Careful.

"I think," she said, "that you were something else entirely."

Something else.

Not just a soldier.

Not just a fugitive.

Something worse.

I exhaled, my fingers curling into fists. "Fine. We go to Julian."

Riley nodded, but I caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Not about Julian.

About me.

And that was the part that hurt the most.

Because I was starting to doubt myself, too.

And if I kept remembering—

I wasn't sure I'd like who I used to be.