My face was burning with shame, but when Jim opened his mouth, all I felt was disgust.

Fragments of memory flashed through my mind. If I wasn’t dreaming, then it must’ve been Jim Jackson who took me home after I got drunk at the bar.

Then why was he standing here now, looking as though he was protecting me from the storm?

How did Gunther Evans show up so suddenly?

And Cameron—why was he, of all people, in my room? Why was it that Jim and Gunther just so happened to walk in at that very moment?

A sharp pain shot through my head, and my heart bled with helplessness....