I'd barely digested the news of Bran's accident when a knock came. It was the thug Bran once sent to aid me.
In an instant, he seized my hair and clamped his hand over my mouth, dragging me out to a car. Fear gripped me like a vice.
At Bran's grave, Sarah, aged ten years in a night, stood with her back to me. "Who told you about Alice?"
I held my tongue, memories flashing back to my return fromVegas.
Ryder had sent a driver with a jewelry box. Inside lay a diamond necklace, a photo of Alice and Bran - and a note revealing their past.
"I don't know Alice,"
"I don't care if you know her. Who told you she existed?"
Before I could respond, a searing pain shot through my back as the man behind me bite me hard.
The man grabbed my hair again. On the verge of passing out, I blurted, "Bran
