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It could wait, but my body was already moving. I darted into my room for my phone, sat back down, took a sip of coffee, and scanned it. A link popped up. I tapped it.

A blank page loaded. One video. The thumbnail was dark.

My breath shuddered as my thumb hovered over it… I tapped play. The screen stayed black. Then a light flicked on overhead, dim and yellow, and I could just make out little squares lining a wall. I brought the phone closer to my face.

What the hell was this?

A blur darted in from the left, and I nearly choked on my bagel.

He filled the whole screen. A man in a Ghostface mask. I blinked, but he was still there. He tilted his head to the left, slow and curious, and goosebumps broke out down my arms. Blood speckled the mask.

It was a recording. He wasn’t really looking at me. I had to remind myself that he couldn’t see me. I wrapped my free hand around my coffee and held on while he stepped back and I got a better look. No cloak, just the mask. Black long-sleeve t-shirt, broad shoulders, thick arms, big hands. There was something about the way he stood that made my stomach flip. Yes, check out the man in the recording, Ru. Don’t wonder why you have a recording as a gift.

But I couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like underneath.

Then I heard it. A choked, wet sound.

The masked man knelt, reached down, and yanked someone up off the floor by the hair. One eye was swollen black, his nose bent at an unnatural angle, and dried blood was crusted against his chin and forehead.

My pulse roared in my ears.

Rhett.

“Oh my god,” I rasped.

“Tell her what you did and say sorry,” Ghostface growled. His voice crackled through the speaker, warped, run through some kind of modulator until it barely sounded human. It still scraped down my spine. He hadn’t stopped staring into the camera. Not once.

“I’m sorry,” Rhett cried. Air whooshed out of him as Ghostface’s fist slammed into the side of his face.

“Say it like you fucking mean it,” Ghostface spat.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Rhett sobbed.

“You told me she doesn’t remember.” Even through the modulator, his voice went calm. Almost gentle. “How can she know what you’re apologizing for if she doesn’t know what you did?”

My head was a mess. I searched the background for anything that could tell me where Rhett was, but there was nothing. Just those screens on the wall. Were they talking about me? They couldn’t be. Except Rhett was right there, and somewhere deep down, I already knew. I needed to hear what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry… for r-r-raping you, Ru. I—fuck!” Rhett cried out as Ghostface punched him again.

It was about me.

He’d never… He hadn’t… I shook my head as my mind fought what my body already knew. I didn’t remember. I froze. I didn’t remember. The opening credits, the second glass, and then nothing until morning. My skin raw. My head splitting.

I set the mug down before I dropped it.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Ghostface spat inches from his face. “You don’t get to say her name. Start over.”

Rhett coughed, and blood sprayed from his lips. Ghostface sighed, releasing his hair, and caught his chin before he could fall forward.

“Again.”

“I’m sorry for raping you. I’m sorry for taking away your choice.” His eyes darted to Ghostface. “Your consent. I’m sorry for taking what wasn’t mine.”

“Look at her!” Ghostface roared.

Tears and blood dripped down Rhett’s cheeks as he lifted his face to the camera. One eye swollen shut, the other barely open. I didn’t feel a lick of pity for him. The tears filling my eyes weren’t for him. I blinked them away and kept watching.

“I’m sorry for taking away your choice. Your consent. I’m sorry for taking what wasn’t mine. Call off your Alpha. Please,” Rhett sobbed.