Bella’s pov

I dreamed of a boy I had never met.

He stood beneath a blood-red moon, his black shirt stained with rain, his golden eyes fixed on me as though I had committed the greatest crime in the world.

Behind him, the forest burned.

I could hear screaming somewhere in the distance, but I couldn't move. My feet were rooted to the ground, and something cold wrapped around my wrist.

The boy stepped closer.

"You shouldn't have come back," he whispered.

I swallowed. "I don't know you."

His expression twisted.

"That's what you said the first time."

Before I could ask what he meant, he grabbed my hand.

His skin was freezing.

Then he looked over my shoulder, and all the anger disappeared from his face.

Fear replaced it.

"Run, Isabella."

I turned.

A woman stood between the trees.

Her white dress was soaked with blood, and her long black hair covered most of her face. She lifted her head slowly.

I stopped breathing.

The woman had my face.

She smiled.

Then she whispered something that followed me out of the dream.

"When he remembers what you are, he'll kill you."

I woke with a scream.

My bedroom was dark, my sheets tangled around my legs, and my heart beating so violently that I pressed a hand against my chest.

For several seconds, I couldn't remember where I was.

Then I heard rain tapping against the window.

Ravenwood.

Of course.

I had been living in the miserable little town for exactly three days, and already it was invading my dreams.

I reached for my phone.

5:17 a.m.

Wonderful.

I dropped back onto my pillow and stared at the ceiling.

The dream had felt real. Too real.

I could still remember the boy's face, the coldness of his fingers, and the strange sadness in his golden eyes.

Most disturbing of all, I had recognised him.

Not consciously. I knew I had never seen him before.

But something inside me had recognised him anyway.

I hated that feeling.

I hated even more that a part of me wanted to dream about him again.

"Get yourself together, Isabella," I muttered.

I climbed out of bed and crossed to the mirror.

My dark hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen with sleep, and there was a faint red mark around my right wrist.

I frowned.

I didn't remember injuring myself.

I rubbed the mark with my thumb.

It looked almost like fingerprints.

My bedroom door opened.

"You're awake already?"

I spun around.

My father stood in the doorway, wearing his usual grey sweater and holding a mug of coffee.

"Couldn't sleep."

He studied my face.

"Another nightmare?"

I hesitated.

Dad knew about the nightmares I'd been having since Mum died. He didn't know about the boy, though. I hadn't told him.

Somehow, speaking about the dreams made them feel more real.

"Just a weird one."

He placed the mug on my desk.

"Your mother used to have nightmares too."

My stomach tightened.

"What kind?"

He looked surprised by the question.

"Why?"

"Just curious."

Dad's expression changed for a moment, but he quickly smiled.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast."

He left before I could ask anything else.

I stared at the closed door.

My mother had nightmares?

Why had nobody told me?

And why did Dad look frightened when I asked?

I glanced at my wrist again.

The red marks had already begun to fade.

I told myself they were nothing.

Then I got dressed for school.

I had no idea that by sunset, I would discover three things.

The boy from my dream was real.

My mother had known him.

And someone in Ravenwood had been waiting seventeen years for me to arrive.

Ravenwood High School looked like a building designed by someone who hated happiness.

The walls were old brick, the windows were narrow, and the trees surrounding the school were so tall that they blocked most of the morning light.

Rainwater dripped from the roof as I hurried through the entrance.

"Isabella Hayes?"

I turned.

A girl with curly brown hair stood beside a row of lockers, smiling as though we'd been friends for years.

"That's me."

"I'm Victoria Brooks. We have history together."

"Should I be worried?"

"Only if you hate homework."

"Then I'm terrified."

She laughed and linked her arm through mine.

Victoria was the first person in Ravenwood who had made me feel even slightly welcome. She talked constantly, had an opinion about practically everything, and seemed to know every rumour circulating around the school.

Within ten minutes, she had told me about three teachers, two couples who had broken up, and a mysterious family who lived in a mansion outside town.

Naturally, I was interested in the last one.

"The Knights," she explained as we walked towards the cafeteria. "Nobody really knows where they came from."

"Are they criminals?"

"Not that anyone can prove."

"That's reassuring."

"They're just strange. They don't go to parties, they barely speak to anyone, and they never seem to change."

"Maybe they've discovered a really good skincare routine."

Victoria gave me a look.

"You're going to regret making jokes about them."

"Why?"

She opened her mouth to answer.

Then she stopped walking.

I followed her gaze.

Five students sat at a table near the cafeteria windows.

They looked like they belonged in a magazine rather than a school cafeteria. One girl had long blonde hair and an expression that suggested she was permanently unimpressed. A tall boy beside her laughed at something another student said.

But the boy at the end of the table wasn't laughing.

He was watching me.

Black hair fell across his forehead. His skin was almost unnaturally pale, and his face was so striking that I briefly forgot what I had been saying.

Then I saw his eyes.

Gold.

My breath caught.

The boy from my dream.

The exact same face.

The exact same eyes.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.

"No," I whispered.

Victoria glanced at me. "What?"

"Nothing."

Across the room, the boy slowly stood.

His friends fell silent.

He walked towards us, and every step seemed to make the cafeteria quieter.

I tried to convince myself that I was imagining things.

Perhaps I'd seen him somewhere before. Perhaps my dream had borrowed a face from a film or a photograph.

But when he stopped in front of me, I knew I had never met him.

Because he looked at me with the same expression he had worn beneath the blood-red moon.

Anger.

Grief.

And fear.

"Isabella Hayes?" he asked.

His voice was low, almost painfully familiar.

I forced myself to smile.

"Depends who's asking."

He didn't smile back.

"My name is Alexander Knight."

"I gathered that."

His eyes moved to my wrist.

The red marks had faded, but apparently not enough.

His expression changed.

"Where did you get that?"

I instinctively pulled my sleeve down.

"Get what?"

He caught my wrist.

The moment his fingers touched my skin, the entire room seemed to disappear.

A flash of images exploded inside my head.

A forest.

A red moon.

A woman screaming.

Alexander standing over a body, his hands covered in blood.

And a voice whispering in the darkness.

He will remember and when he does, you will die.

I gasped and jerked away.

Alexander stumbled backwards.

For the first time, he looked genuinely horrified.

"What did you see?" he demanded.

I stared at him.

"How did you do that?"

His jaw tightened.

"Answer me."

"Don't touch me!"

Several students turned to stare.

Alexander glanced around, then lowered his voice.

"Listen carefully. Whatever you think you know about me, forget it."

I laughed shakily.

"Trust me, I would love to forget whatever just happened."

His expression softened for the briefest moment.

Then he leaned closer.

"Stay away from the forest, Isabella. And whatever you do, never follow a voice calling your name after midnight."

My blood ran cold.

"How do you know about my dreams?"

He froze.

I hadn't meant to say it aloud.

His eyes searched mine.

"What dreams?"

I swallowed.

"The ones where I see you."

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Alexander stepped away as though I had burned him.

"No," he whispered.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"You're supposed to be dead."

Before I could demand an explanation, he turned and walked out of the cafeteria.

I stood frozen.

Victoria grabbed my arm.

"Isabella, what on earth was that?"

I couldn't answer.

Because Alexander had said something impossible.

Something that made no sense.

And yet, deep inside me, a terrible feeling began to grow.

He hadn't been surprised to see me.

He had been surprised that I was alive.

At lunch, I tried to convince myself that Alexander was simply an arrogant, unstable boy with an overactive imagination.

It didn't work.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the flash of images from the moment he touched me.

The forest.

The blood.

His hands.

I was beginning to think I needed professional help.

"You're staring at your sandwich like it insulted your family," Victoria observed.

"Maybe it did."

She pushed a packet of crisps towards me.

"Eat something."

I took one without looking at her.

Then I noticed a boy approaching our table.

He had warm brown eyes, sandy hair, and an easy smile. Unlike Alexander, he looked perfectly ordinary.

"You're Bella, right?"

I nodded.

"I'm Lucas Reed."

"Another person who knows my name. I'm becoming famous."

Lucas laughed and sat opposite me.

"Victoria said you met Alexander."

"Is everyone in this town obsessed with him?"

"Not obsessed. Curious."

"What's his problem?"

Lucas's smile disappeared.

"Alexander doesn't like surprises."

"Then he must hate birthdays."

Victoria snorted.

Lucas ignored her.

"Listen, I'm serious. If Alexander tells you to stay away from something, you should probably listen."

"Why? Is he dangerous?"

Lucas looked towards the cafeteria doors.

"I don't know what he is."

A chill crept over my skin.

Before I could question him, the school bell rang.

I gathered my things and headed for my next class.

Halfway down the corridor, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of my locker.

I pulled it free.

There was no name on it.

Only a short message written in dark red ink.

YOUR MOTHER DIDN'T DIE IN AN ACCIDENT.

My fingers went numb.

I read the sentence again.

Then I turned the paper over.

On the back was a date.

October 17.

The same date my mother had disappeared for three days when I was six.

The same date Dad had refused to discuss that morning.

And the same date that had appeared in my nightmare.

I looked up sharply.

At the far end of the corridor, Alexander stood watching me.

He was perfectly still.

His golden eyes had darkened until they looked almost black.

Then he mouthed something I could barely understand.

Two words.

They know.

A classroom door slammed behind me.

I spun around.

When I looked back, Alexander was gone.

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

I opened the message.

Ask your father what happened to your twin sister.

I stopped breathing.

I didn't have a twin sister.

I was an only child.

At least, that was what my parents had always told me.

Another message arrived.

She died before you were born.

Then a third.

But she wasn't buried.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.

A photograph appeared beneath the messages.

It showed a hospital room.

Two newborn babies lay in separate bassinets.

One wore a pink blanket.

The other wore white.

On the wall behind them was a date.

October 17.

And standing beside the bassinets was my mother.

Alive.

Smiling.

With Alexander Knight standing directly behind her.

His hand rested on her shoulder.

And he was holding a knife.