Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

ASHLEY

“Your time starts now.” Him listing the things he’s had to deal with has taken the fight out of me, but I’m not going to let him see that. He’ll use it.

Zain’s head swings toward the papers strewn across the table. “The articles you have. What made you print them off?”

“I wanted to make sense of everything.”

He nods. “Yeah … Do any of them mention the partial fingerprint they found?”

My heart skips a beat. “What? No. That’s not possible. They would have?—”

“They buried it. No follow-up, no investigation. Just swept under the rug like it never existed.”

“Surely that’s not legal,” Scott says, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe Zain.

Zain turns to him, and aggression radiates off his body in waves. “I’ve got the fucking reports. You want to see them?”

“Zain,” Peter’s voice is soft.

Zain’s attention returns to me. “My mom told me about some guy asking questions after the murders and my arrest. He knew things. Things that weren’t made public.”

“What kind of things?”

“Crime scene details. The kind of shit cops keep quiet.” His eyes narrow. “The kind of things only someone who was there would know.”

A chill runs down my spine, the dream that woke me earlier coming back to me. “Could someone else have been there?”

“Maybe. But we need to figure it out before whoever is behind it decides to tie up those loose ends.”

“Loose ends? Is that a threat?” Scott interjects again.

“It’s a fucking warning, you idiot. Or did you miss the part where someone already tried to grab her once?”

“She wouldn’t have been grabbed if you hadn’t forced her to stay with you.”

“Stop it!” I take a step forward so I’m in between them. “Both of you. Just stop!”

The room falls silent.

“Zain, even if I believe you, what makes you think I can help? I’ve told you everything I remember.”

He moves closer. “Have you? If you don’t remember the first part of your police interview, then you could have repressed other things.”

“You want to find a way to draw those memories out.” It’s not a question.

“It might be our only shot. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think you have it locked inside your head.”

“Ash,” Jessa-Mae’s voice is soft. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

I look at my friends, then at Scott. Matching concern is etched on all of their faces. When I turn back to face Zain, his eyes are hard, intense, but there’s something else there too. A hint of desperation that mirrors the growing pit in my stomach.

“I need time to think.”

A muscle pops in his jaw, but he doesn’t immediately shut my request down.

“I need to think, to process everything you’ve told me.”

“I’ll be back tonight.”

“Tonight?” Scott protests. “No way. You’re trying to bulldoze her into doing what you want.”

“Tonight.” Zain ignores him. “I’ll be back at eight for your answer.”

“And if she decides she doesn’t want to go back to Whitstone?” Jessa-Mae asks.

Zain’s gaze doesn’t move from me. “Then we’re both fucked.”

“Eight. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

He nods, turns, and walks out without another word. Peter glances at me, then follows him.

Once the front door has closed behind them, the room erupts into chaos. Scott, Jessa-Mae, and Karla are all talking at once, their voices a jumble of concern, anger, and disbelief. But I’m not listening to them.

My mind is reeling with everything Zain has told me.

A fingerprint. A mysterious man asking questions. The possibility that my memories might be hiding information.

For years, I’ve been living a lie. Convinced that what I saw was the truth. But now, I’m discovering that there’s so much more to the story than what I remember. And what I remember is not necessarily what happened.

The idea of digging into those buried memories is terrifying, but the thought of never knowing the truth is even worse.

The noise around me fades as the weight of Zain’s words sink in. My heart is pounding, my hands shaking, as I reach out to grip the back of a chair for support.

“Ash?” Scott’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I blink and look at him. He’s watching me with a mix of concern and frustration.

“You can’t seriously be considering going along with this.” His voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “He’s manipulating you. You don’t owe him anything.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I have to do this for myself, not for Zain. But I’m not sure if that’s true. I feel like I’m caught in something much bigger than any of us can grasp, and I need to know what really happened, but that’s not all it is. I saw something in Zain’s eyes, something he hid quickly, but it was there … just for a second.

Pain. Despair. Fear .

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do hold the missing piece.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. But I need time to think.”

“Think about what? He’s dangerous. He’s been out of prison for a week, and he’s already dragged you into danger. Are you sure he’s innocent? You should stay far away from him.”

“You don’t understand.”

The events from Whitstone, the nightmares, the way my thoughts are tangled—it’s too hard to explain.

Karla walks over to me. “You don’t need to figure it out right now. We have all day.”

“Yeah, maybe we should all take a step back for a second.” Jessa throws a hard look at Scott, then turns to me. “What’s this about your memory?”

“I think I blocked some things out. I’ve always had nightmares, but put it down to what I saw.” I meet Jessa’s eyes. “Now I wonder if Zain is right, and I’m repressing something. Something important, and it’s trying to come out in my dreams.”

Karla squeezes my arm gently. “You’ve been through enough hell, are you sure this is the best way to deal with it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to stay away from him.” Scott’s voice is harsh. “Whatever he’s saying, it’s bullshit. This is all about him. He’s not interested in your safety. He’s using you to get what he wants. He’s an ex-convict. He’s dangerous.”

There’s no denying that. Zain is dangerous. His obsession with revenge, with finding out the truth, is terrifying. But if there’s even the slightest chance that he’s right, if my memories do hold some key, then how can I just walk away?

“It’s not that simple. You don’t understand. Your brother isn’t the one who was murdered. And you’re not the one who put an innocent man in prison.”

“So, you’re going to bow to his demands then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No!” I snap, surprising myself. “I’m going to make the decision that’s best for me.”