"Octavio! Octavio."

Brooke is going to be dead.

"I think something happened while I was playing with joya right here."

Brooke is dead. Brooke is dead. Brooke was dead.

"What?"

"I was distracted! I didn't see!"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Rafael, before I throw you out of this house."

"I will, but promise me you'll handle this carefully because querida seems seconds away from freaking the fuck out."

"Stop calling her that."

Stop calling her that. Brooke Brooke Brooke. She wasn't here. She was dead. Was she dead? No, she wasn't. That wasn't possible.

I was so deep in my head, so deeply tangled within my racing, feverish thoughts, that I wasn't aware, didn't think I was aware of what was happening around me. There were voices that didn't matter, the air suffocating me. It was all happening so fast and there was a crash that rattled me so suddenly. A raw--scared--sound left my lips.

"Ow, you fucking bastard." Raff groaned from somewhere and I looked around frantically. I was in the kitchen. I was standing in the corner, the furthest corner and the darkest spot, not sitting on the stool anymore, and something was pressing into my back, a hard surface, a drawer. I was in Ryder's house.

And Ryder was suddenly there right in front of me.

There must've been something on my face, something visible that he saw since he stopped before he could've taken another step towards me. He was scowling, confused, eyes darting between my own and searching.

I inhaled too fast and it felt like I was choking on air. Hot, burning air. I pulled away and backed into the corner wall, a safe spot away from everyone and everything. Brooke was dead. I remembered last night. I remembered bits from last night. Or I think I did even when my head was racing just as fast as the adrenaline rush in my ears.

I did remember the whisper-touch of warm fingers over my hands, my wrists, my arms. My face--a soft brush against my cheek. I breathed fast, eyes hot and stinging because I didn't remember who it had been. A stranger? I'd told him so much. He'd asked me so much about everything and I'd blabbered and blabbered and I'd told him things about Brooke and Ryder and my life and my family without even thinking twice.

"Alice."

I shook my head, hair sticking to my cold cheeks and my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of my chest any given second now. I pushed back against the wall as if it would crumble away and let me back away further into the dark. I didn't want to be here. I'd messed up. What had that paper and those words meant? I didn't even know where my sunglasses were and I couldn't breathe.

"Alice." A firm, somewhat careful voice snapped me out of my head, but just momentarily. Ryder was here. He was here. "Alice, look at me."

Someone's out to get me, the same words kept repeating in my head. Again and again and again until it felt like I might vomit them out. Someone knows everything about me. I've done something stupid. He drugged my drink last night and I let him touch me and squeeze out every bit of information from me.

No. No, he'd been talking about Brooke. He'd asked me about Brooke. He knew her. Had he been a relative or a friend of Brooke? But that didn't make any sense. Brooke is dead--those words didn't make any sense.

"Alice." He took another step closer and I made that scared noise once again, that scared terrified noise that made it feel like someone was trying to claw my heart out of my chest. He stopped at once and eyed me with an alarmed, furious look. "What the hell's going on? What happened?"

I pressed further back against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut because I didn't want to see. I was afraid. I dug the fingers of my right hand into my left wrist, squeezing and squeezing until it hurt. I'd said a lot. I'd said so much and it had been a stupid, stupid mistake. What if he was just a stalker, someone Brooke didn't even know? It was a blurry haze when I tried to thinkthinkthink, and I think I'd told the stranger from last night about Michael too. Had I? Oh God, had I? What had I said? How much did I tell?

"She was doing just fine, I swear." That was Raff. I recognized his concerned, faraway voice at the very back of my head, right before my brain convinced me that it didn't matter. What was here right now didn't matter because I'd fucked up last night and I was stuck there. I was stuck there because I'd told a stranger so much about myself without even thinking twice. He'd only said a few words, which I knew deep down were important, but I couldn't even remember them.

Hadn't I learned anything from my past mistakes? How easily things could turn and morph into something much more horrible?

"Querida." Warm fingers on my wrist, the wrist I was bruising with my own fingers, but too warm. I panicked and tugged on it, shuddering almost a little too violently. "Hey." He wrapped his hand around my wrist, secure, and pulled on it gently. "Look at me."

I shook my head again and I didn't want to see but my eyes were open again because Ryder was so close and I wished he'd give me space so I could breathe. I couldn't breathe and there was this hot bubble in my chest and I couldn't stop shaking.

"Let go. Let go." I tugged on my wrist frantically, eyes darting around him because I was scared something was going to jump out of the dark and grab me, latch itself onto me, and take me away. I knew, deep down, that this was bad. It had never been this worse, the paranoia, and that had only started happening when I'd returned home after that. After escaping that dark, horrifying underground cellar.

But now I'd told a complete stranger everything about myself and he'd spiked my drink and he'd made me write those words on that piece of paper in that cheap motel room. Brooke is dead. Brooke couldn't be dead. Was she dead?

"I will," Ryder said and his voice was calm, even if his gaze seemed the opposite of steady. "But you'll look at me first."

I did look at him because I really wanted him to let go of me. I wanted to hide. I was so afraid.

"Okay. That's good." His eyes held mine steadily so I couldn't really look away even though I was scared and needed to make sure no one else was following me, stalking me. Was the stranger from last night following me? He knew about me because I'd told him about me. He'd asked and asked and he had...he had known about Brooke missing, hadn't he? Oh God.

"I...I...I am scared." I whispered quietly, lips trembling over the words.

His gaze hardened before he nodded very slowly. "Okay. Tell me what I can do."

Nothing. Nothing. I wanted a hair tie. I wanted a tight rubber band. I wanted to lock myself in a room and I wanted to bar all the windows and all the exits and I wanted to close my eyes until everything went dead silent. Until I was safe. But Brooke was out there and she wasn't--she wasn't safe.

"I'm scared," I repeated more urgently this time. Maybe he would understand. Ryder had understood me at times more than I did. "I-I made a mistake. I made a mistake."

He frowned. "What?" Gritting his jaw, he added almost instantly, "All right. Okay." He held up my wrist, letting me see for some reason in a gesture that seemed placating, and pulled me a little closer and a little out of my safe hiding spot. "I'll listen to you, but you have to breathe first. With me. Will you do that for me?"

I shook my head a little more frantically this time. Didn't he hear me? Oh God, he didn't understand. He didn't know. He didn't know.

I placed my hand over his fingers around my wrist and squeezed a little too desperately, because I was desperate and he wasn't helping me. Nothing was helping. Brooke is going to be dead were the words slowly building up to a desperate scream in my throat and no one understood me.

"Jesus." He murmured under his breath with that same confused frown and tried to pry my hand away from his, because I think he knew he was hurting me and I think he knew I wanted him to do just that. He let go of my wrist and grabbed my arms, backing me up against the wall I'd been cowering against just seconds ago, and I watched as his gaze turned murderous. "Alice, for fuck's sake--"

I squeezed my eyes shut again and shook. "You don't understand. You don't understand. You're not..." My voice broke. "You're not listening to me."

His hands slid up my arms and up the sides of my throat, warmth cupping my face and making me look up. He leaned down until his eyes leveled mine. "I am listening to you, all right? But you have to stop breathing so fast. You have to calm down before you pass out on me, and nothing's going to get fixed that way. You want me to help you, querida? Then you have to listen to me first."

I swallowed, staring at him with wild, distressed eyes. He stared back steadily and firmly and I felt my heart beating in my throat. I shook as I thought of the words, forced and forced and forced them out until I could say them,

"Brooke's dead."

He blinked--the only indication of his surprise. "What?" He didn't know who Brooke was. Maybe he didn't know who Brooke was. He didn't.

I looked at him, eyes wide and burning, and I don't know why I noticed it then, the edge of his busted lip, the scraped bruise on his cheekbone. It wasn't bleeding, but I'd seen his torn knuckles too and his hands were on my face, holding me, and he'd never done that before. He didn't like to touch me, didn't like to stand within touching distance of me. He didn't, but he was doing it now.

Maybe that's why I said, "You're hurt," before a noise much like a sob left my lips.

Ryder's eyes widened almost instantly and then he was letting go of me, which made my heart race even further before he stepped back. Dragging a hand through his hair, I noticed the bruised knuckles and the dried blood he hadn't even bothered to wash, and my throat squeezed in warning. And then he was grabbing me by the hem of my sweatshirt and making me sit down on one of the counter stools once again. He grabbed one for himself as well and sat down right in front of me.

I was crying much obviously by then, still shaking as tears trickled down my face and my heart ached with all that suffocating fear. Ryder cursed softly under his breath before he was standing up once again and walked out of the kitchen, grumbling at Rafael to "get out" before I heard him throwing open a door with a loud slam.

I hung my head and dropped it onto my hands, shuddering as I tried to understand. What have I done? Where was Brooke? She isn't fine, my brain said. And she wasn't. What if she wasn't? Who was that stranger last night? Why had he known so much about Brooke and why had he asked me about her? Asked me about my personal life, about things I wouldn't just tell anyone?

What if this was everything like Fraser? Everything that had led up to his death, him going away so suddenly, not answering any of my calls or texts, and me finding him dead in an abandoned alley? No no no, I rubbed the tears from my eyes until my skin burned.

Ryder came back after a moment which could've just been seconds or minutes or a whole hour, and by the time I managed to look up from my clammy hands and hiccup my way through another sob, it didn't take me long to notice the change. He passed me a glass of water and I saw that he'd washed the dried blood off the back of his hands. For me? I backed away and shook my head at the glass of water, grabbing my hair with my fingers and trembling with dread.

"I...I messed up." I cried.

Ryder sat down in front of me. "Querida."

"I messed up."

"Okay," he said. He kept saying that. Why did he keep saying that? I could feel his eyes following my hands that were fisted in my hair, almost as if he wanted to reach out and pull them away. But he didn't. He didn't touch me this time and my stomach knotted dreadfully. "Tell me what it is that you think you messed up."

"I don't think it." I snapped my head up to stare into his eyes, my own wide and desperate. "I-I know it. I know I messed up. Why aren't you...you listening to me?"

He scowled, looked like he was trying not to scowl, then softened his features as he pushed the glass of water away on the counter behind me. "I am listening," he said. Just that as he continued staring. Waiting. He was waiting, I realized as I stared at him.

I sniffled and for a second there wasn't that suffocating darkness around me anymore, there were no dark, invisible hands clawing at my skin, it wasn't hothothot, but just warm.

"I..." When I failed at words, which was frustrating enough that I felt fresh tears prickling my eyes again, I decided to go for something I could show him. I looked behind me, around me, and saw a scrap of paper laying on the floor. I bent down and picked it up and thrust it towards Ryder.

He stared for a second too long before taking it from me and letting his eyes rake over the words written on it. A loose strand fell over his forehead before he looked up at me. "Brooke. I'm assuming she's your friend."

"I wrote that." My voice came out so much the opposite of his. Loud and frantic and wobbly. "That's my handwriting! I remember writing that down last night in that...in that dirty motel room. I wrote it."

Ryder was careful to fold it back and regard me with his questioning gaze.

"I don't remember last night, Ryder." My chin quivered as my voice lowered to a pleading whisper. Pleading for what, I didn't know. "I didn't remember until now. I messed up. I got drunk, so badly drunk, and there was someone. I think...I think I let someone spike my drink. He was asking me things, so many questions and I was drunk and careless and I kept talking and I told him so much. I was... He kept asking stuff about Brooke. I didn't care at that moment because I'm stupid and then he--"

I think you know where she is, he'd said. Dark eyes. Dark, knowing eyes, like he'd known every hidden secret of mine.

I pressed a hand tightly over my mouth because bile was rising up my throat and everything was going a little dark around the edges once again.

I think you know where she is, I suddenly remembered the stranger from last night saying. You know her, don't you? She was your friend.

Was was was.

Ryder didn't say anything because he looked alarmed. No, not alarmed, he looked angry.

"I didn't mean to," I whispered, shaking my head and pressing my back painfully into the edge of the counter because I was so so scared of everything. Even Ryder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He looked down at the paper again but didn't say anything. He seemed to be thinking, frowning, jaw ticking. He wasn't saying anything and I gripped the edges of my seat too tight until even the ache was too much. "I'm sorry."

I saw him clenching and unclenching his jaw. "I don't understand why you're apologizing to me."

He wasn't looking at me and his voice was harsh and angry and maybe even pissed, and I squeezed my eyes close once again because I knew. I knew. I think you know where she is.

I needed to go.

I got up from the stool, trembling and wild-eyed, and then I was leaving the kitchen because I couldn't stay there. What was I doing here when I should be looking for Brooke, calling her on my phone, calling her parents?

Mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, all ending worse than the one before, I grabbed my phone and wiped my eyes with my sleeves.

"Where are you going?" Ryder asked from behind me.

I shook my head and headed for the door.

"Alice."

I stopped abruptly, but only for a short moment when the front door opened and Rafael peeked inside. "Is everything all right now?"

I sidestepped Raff and left the penthouse, glad the elevator was on the floor, frantically pressing on the button until the doors slid open and I stepped inside. I could've felt myself vibrating, my skin buzzing, as the elevator doors slid open once again but on the ground lobby this time.

I realized my mistake a little too fast, but not enough to escape the consequences. I hadn't even taken a step out into the street, dodging the jolly farewell from the guard, when I was soaked instantly with the pounding rain.

I stopped dead in my tracks, gasping at the cold, harsh droplets falling from the stormy sky, leaving me wholly and utterly stunned. I hadn't even noticed the storm outside because I'd been too stuck and trapped in my head.

It was like a cold slap from the universe, startling me awake and out of my panic-induced thoughts. Shuddering, I took a step aside on the street.

Someone stumbled into my back, a lady murmuring a soft apology before she went along her way. I blinked back the rainwater from my eyes and at least...at least my skin didn't feel like it was burning anymore.

I shivered involuntarily and switched on my phone, trying to shield it from the rain, and scrolled through my contacts until I reached Brooke's.

A loud boom of thunder made me flinch. Another passerby walked past me, hurrying down the street to escape the worst of the storm. I looked up, eyes wide, and gritted my teeth at another loud boom of thunder.

I pressed Brooke's contact and watched as it rang. Cold droplets trickled down the back of my neck and my spine. She didn't pick up.

I wiped my face with my already-drenched sleeve and tried to breathe evenly. There must be a reason. There had to be a reason. I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I fucking remember?

Another slam into my shoulder as a man walked by. I was standing in the middle of the street, still and not moving, and no wonder people were passing me short, annoyed looks.

I'd only just stepped towards the wall when someone stepped beside me, pushing a dark umbrella over me and shielding me from the onslaught of rain. "For fuck's sake, Alice, could you not have waited a fucking minute?"

Ryder seemed fairly pissed as he gave me a quick once-over, checking for what, I didn't know. Whatever he found within my current state only made him seem even more pissed.

I didn't get a chance to reply or say anything to him when my phone started ringing with Brooke's name flashing on the screen.

The relief I felt at that moment was too much, too sudden that I floundered for a second, eyes wide and breath halting because Brooke was calling me. Surely that meant--

Ryder pushed the umbrella much closer to me until there was not even a single raindrop falling anywhere on me and I stared up at him, gripping my phone so tight that I felt my knuckles going white.

"That's your friend." He stated, nudging my hand with the umbrella handle. I could almost hear him asking the obvious question. Why the hell was I not answering the call?

I nodded shakily and slid my finger across the screen, bringing the phone over to my ear. "H-Hello?" Please be Brooke. God, please be Brooke.

"Alice." There was a loud, guttural sob--a gut-wrenching sound followed by the loud boom of thunder. It was Brooke. "Alice."

I felt my throat squeezing in alarm. Swallowing, I parted my lips for words but none came.

There was a loud sniffle and then a hiccup. "Alice, please forgive me. Please. Will you please forgive me?"

Ryder was staring down at me, eyebrows pulled together. I glanced up at him, but then reminded myself that he couldn't hear what was being said on the other end of my phone.

I quickly put it on speaker, even though it wasn't much quick since my hands were trembling badly and I was shivering--due to the bad mixture of cold and fear--and spoke quickly, "Brooke...Brooke, hey, where are you? Are you all right? Are you in some sort of..." Danger? I looked up at Ryder with wide eyes because I tried but couldn't say it. I was just as terrified as I'd been back in his house.

There was another loud sob and the sound of rain from her end mixed with the pattering rain where I stood. "Alice, please. Just tell me. Just tell me you forgive me."

I blinked and blinked and stared up at Ryder helplessly. His jaw worked as he stared. He wasn't frowning anymore.

"I--I do." I blurted out, so worried and terrified. "Of course, I do! But I don't understand why you're...Brooke, where are you? I'm worried. I'm really worried, can you please--"

"I can't!" She yelled and I flinched, nearly losing my grip on my phone. "I can't. I deserve this. I betrayed you, don't you understand?"

I think, for a second there, I heard another hushed voice on her end, a whisper of something in a voice that wasn't Brooke's. But that could've easily been the gust of wind blowing across the street.

I stared down at my phone with the feeling of dark fear creeping up on me. This wasn't right. Something was so so wrong.

Ryder positioned himself in front of me and I shuddered, looking back up at him because I didn't know what to do. My brain was scattered in the worst way ever and I had no idea what to do.

"Brooke. Brooke, please." There was that sound again. Water. Not the rain, though. I didn't think it was the rain. "Brooke, are you--"

"I have to go." She sniffled again and I could hear it. The sadness and the urgency lacing her voice were like an arrow shot straight to my heart. It was horrible and dreadful and tasted like a nightmare waiting for me in a handful of minutes, seconds, moments. "I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't...hadn't done it. I wish I hadn't ruined your relationship with Soren. I wish I hadn't hooked up with him behind your back--"

Ryder swore, grabbed me by the elbow so fast that I did lose my grip on my phone this time and it fell on the ground with a splash. I picked it up with my other hand, eyes widening when he started tugging me back inside the penthouse building.

"Ryder, what--"

"We have to go." He threw the words over his shoulder as he continued dragging me inside.

"What? What do you mean?" I stumbled a little and would've fallen if not for his firm grip on my elbow. I looked down at my phone and saw the call had ended. Alarmed and horrified, I tugged on my arm. "She hung up! Why did you...Oh God, why would you do that? I don't know where she is, Ryder! She needs my help."

"I know that." He turned around, gritting out those words, and that's only when I noticed how tense he'd gone. He looked downright murderous--like he was seconds away from losing it completely--like the band holding onto his self-control was about to snap. I tried to shrink away from him but his grip on my elbow wasn't relenting. He yanked me close until he was looking down at me and I had no choice but to meet his gaze, terrified and wide-eyed. "Your friend's in danger and we're wasting our time standing here. Time--seconds, Alice, we can't fucking waste a single second. Do you know why?"

I froze. "What? W-Why?"

His fingers tightened the smallest of fractions around my arm, dark blue eyes the shade of an impending, disastrous storm.

"Because there's someone else there with her. Someone dangerous." He gritted out. "And he won't leave until she kills herself."