Page 88 of Hate You Most

Viktoriya froze. “Pressure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Like a bad migraine coming on.”

Viktoriya’s breath caught. She looked out the window and wished she was outside, and not in the hotel room, having this conversation. But she needed to push through, she needed answers.

Oaklyn continued. “It felt like something was squeezing my head almost.”

“And then?”

“Then everything went blank.”

Viktoriya’s pen stopped moving.

“Blank?”

“Yeah.” Oaklyn answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t remember the crash exactly. Just… flashes from it. Headlights behind the car. Pressure. And then nothing. Next thing I know I’m in the hospital and the last four years of my life are gone. It’s like my brain stops me every time I try to remember.”

Viktoriya swallowed. “Oaklyn… did anyone talk to you after you were discharged?”

She laughed softly, but even across the phone, Viktoriya could tell there was no humor in her voice.

“Yeah.”

Her pulse jumped. “Who? Who did you talk to?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Some guys in fancy suits. They said they were from the insurance company.”

Viktoriya lowered her own voice. “What did they want?”

“Just paperwork,” she said.

She waited.

“Oaklyn.”

There was another pause.

“Oaklyn, how much paperwork?”

“Three NDAs.” The words hit her like shattered ice, and she had to physically refrain from letting the emotion show in her voice.

Viktoriya steadied herself with a hand against the headboard of the bed. She was thankful this conversation was happening over the phone, because she was certain she couldn't keep her face neutral.

“Three?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Three different ones.”

Oaklyn had been forced into silence. Achill moved through her chest as the thought settled in her mind. Whoever had done this—if someone had done this—they hadn’t simply tried to kill them. Because if that had been the goal, they would all have died.

The images from the article flashed through her mind again. The different cars with bent metal and cracked windshields that looked like they had taken the full force of a highway collision. Those crashes should have been fatal. Instead it had just taken their memories.

Viktoriya’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone. If the plan had been to kill them, the job had been done badly. Far too badly. Which meant that probably hadn’t been the plan at all. They were all supposed to get out of the crash alive but unable to remember the past. Because what was easier to ignore than a survivor with amnesia? People would call it tragic and unfortunate and then they would move on.

The truth was in her mind somewhere, Viktoriya could feel it—she just couldn't access it.

“What did the NDAs say?”

Oaklyn laughed on the other end of the line. “I can't tell you that, I'm sorry.”