SILAS' POV
I stared down at the check on my phone, my signature clear and unmistakable, and the blurry photo of me sitting at the bar. My chest tightened. When had I been there? The woman beside me—Amy, Jade had said—was a blank in my mind. I didn’t know her. Not her face, not her voice, not even why I would’ve been in that bar in the first place.
The name Amy echoed in my head, hollow and unfamiliar. But the photo… the photo was real. The scene wasn’t fabricated, and that was what terrified me.
My chest tightened, and a sense of dread curled in my stomach. How had this happened? When had this happened? And, more importantly, why couldn’t I remember?
I poured myself a glass of whiskey, hoping the burn would clear the fog clouding my thoughts. As the amber liquid slid down my throat,
