Hand shaking, I lifted my arm and ran the tips of my fingers over the deep indent in my left cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut, hearing the deafening popping sound. The flash of pain had been so quick, intense and fiery, and there had been nothing . . . nothing except this.

I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth as I dragged my fingers to the other side of my face. Sometimes I thought if I pressed hard enough I could feel the implant, but that could’ve been my imagination.

Lowering my hand, I opened my eyes, and as my vision adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the shapes around me. Back in my parents’ house, there were wall-to-wall bookshelves. They’d been my collection, a source of wonderful memories and new worlds.

I only had one bookcase here.

Most of the books I read were now on my Kindle, as they had been back then, many Kindle generations ago, but I’d still collected print books. I’d liked being surrounded by them, being able to reach out and touch them.

I didn’t know why I hadn’t done the same here, converting the guest bedroom into a library of sorts.

Drawing my knees up under the covers, I wrapped my arms around my legs. A question plagued me as I sat in the darkness with only the sound of a nearby fan running.

What would I’ve done if I hadn’t gone to Mona’s that night?

The question picked at me for years, because I . . . I couldn’t answer that question. I mean, I’d wanted to work at the Academy. I’d wanted to finish college. But those were surface things, and I didn’t have . . . a deep sense of self, of who I truly was before the shooting and who I became afterwards because of it.

I’d only been twenty when everything had changed for me. My life was paused before I got the chance to really discover what I wanted or who I was outside of being Andrew Lima’s daughter or the girl who was Brock “the Beast” Mitchell’s shadow. The remote control of life had slowly lifted its pause button, but . . .

I really should be asleep.

Tomorrow would be a long day—a big day. I would be meeting with potential investors, and not only was I representing the Lima Academy, I represented my father. The last thing I needed to be was half-asleep while trying to pay attention to what everyone was saying.

But there was too much noise—noise inside my head.