Chapter 1: The Night She Was Erased

Thump. Thump. Thump.

That was the sound of my heart beating loudly in my ears. I was scared. Maybe ‘scared’ was an understatement. I was terrified. 

Smoke lingered like a curse in the air. It was suffocating and thick with ash, blood, and the shattered remains of a life I almost didn’t recognize. Everything looked different from the vibrant pack that we used to be. My bare feet slapped against the marble hallway of the East Wing, taht was now cracked and stained with battle. Each step I took stung, not from pain but from panic.

He was alive.

That was all they’d told me. Rowan. My mate. My husband. My everything. Alive, but barely.

I clutched the edge of the doorway to the infirmary, my breath catching in my throat. It was not entirely easy to breathe when I had not had time to tend to my own wounds and be calmed from the jarring whiplash of last night. From a beautiful moment with him to a bloody chaos.

Moonlight filtered through the broken windows, casting fractured beams over the pale bodies lined up under sheets. My stomach churned.

Not him. Not Rowan. Please, Moon Goddess, not him.

A healer emerged from a side room, her apron soaked in red. Her eyes caught mine, and for a moment, there was recognition—a flicker of empathy. "You shouldn’t be here, Miss..."

"Calla," I rasped. "Calla Rivers. I’m here to see Rowan. I—I need to see my husband."

The word felt foreign now. Fragile. She hesitated.

"Alpha Rowan is... stable. But he’s under strict observation. No visitors." Her voice was gentle, but she couldn’t hide the tension in her shoulders.

"Please." My knees buckled slightly, and I gripped the doorway harder. "Tell him I’m here. Just say my name. He’ll want to see me."

A silence fell.

She opened her mouth to respond, but someone else stepped forward.

Elder Elira. 

Her presence turned the room cold. Elegant as always, not a single hair out of place despite the chaos, she looked down at me like I was an unfortunate smudge on a perfectly polished floor.

"That won’t be necessary," she said. "Alpha Rowan has no recollection of you."

The words didn’t register.

"What?" I asked because that couldn’t be true.

Just three nights ago, Rowan held me beneath the stars, his lips on mine, vows whispered between stolen touches. He had wrapped his cloak around me, called me his forever, and married me in secret. He had kissed me and promised a real ceremony once the lurking danger had passed.

Elder Elira folded her hands in front of her, voice flat. "He woke up hours ago. His mind is... damaged from the trauma. He remembers his pack, his responsibilities. But you, Miss Rivers? You are not among the memories that returned."

Miss Rivers.

Not Luna. Not Calla. Just... Miss Rivers.

My mouth went dry. "That can’t be. We were married. We took vows beneath the stars, he marked me—"

"The council has reviewed the circumstances of your so-called union," she interrupted smoothly. "There was no formal announcement. No ceremony recognized by the Elders. The Alpha was under considerable stress in the weeks leading up to the coup."

"We were in love," I whispered. "We were—we are bonded."

Elira tilted her head slightly. "Then why doesn’t he remember you?"

Her words were a dagger, slipping between my ribs harshly. But what gutted me more was the presence behind her—another Elder, broad-shouldered and stern, stepping into place as reinforcement.

"Miss Rivers," he said, voice void of emotion. "Alpha Rowan has requested peace while he recovers. If you care for him at all, you will not disrupt his healing."

"Let me just see him," I said, my voice cracking. "One minute. He'll remember. If I just see him—"

“Miss River, you–” I did not let her finish before I dashed inside.

“You can’t keep me from him!” I shouted, voice trembling as I pushed everybody aside.

.

The chamber beyond was dimly lit. Rowan sat on the edge of the healer’s bed, his torso wrapped in bandages. His back was to me, but I knew every curve of those shoulders, every scar, every line.

I froze again as Elder Elira caught up to me and stepped between us.

“You shouldn’t be here, Calla,” she said sharply.

“I need to talk to him,” I snapped. “Let me through.”

“Elira,” Rowan’s voice cut in, low and dangerous. “What is this disturbance?”

I stepped around Elira quickly, my throat tight with emotion. “Rowan…”

He turned toward me—and everything inside me stilled.

His silver eyes met mine.

And there was nothing.

No spark of recognition. No relief. No joy.

Just cold confusion.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked flatly.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “It’s Calla. Your—your mate. Your wife.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. “My wife is dead,” he said sharply. “She died in the chaos. That’s what I was told.”

I shook my head violently. “No. No, Rowan. I didn’t die. I was taken. I fought to get back to you.”

He stood slowly, rage simmering beneath the surface. “Get her out of here.”

“Rowan—please,” I cried, stepping closer. “You have to remember. The moonflowers. The cabin. Our vows—Rowan, you made me a ring with your own hands.”

But his eyes only grew harder.

“I don’t know you. You’re not my mate. You’re nothing to me,” he hissed.

I felt the breath leave my lungs in a sharp, invisible punch.

“No,” I choked out. “You’re lying. Or they’re lying to you. Something—Rowan, please—”

He turned to the guards. “Take her out.”

The guards hesitated, unsure.

“I said, get her the hell out of here!”

Rough hands seized my arms. I didn’t fight—I couldn’t. My legs had turned to stone, my heart shattered. I stared at him as they dragged me toward the door.

He turned his back to me before I was even out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind me.

And with it, the last piece of my soul.

Elira's eyes narrowed. "Do not mistake our patience for leniency. You are a disruption. Nothing more."

The hallway spun.

I felt it then—the weakening of the bond. Like a thread fraying, the mark on my neck throbbed. Dull. Distant. The connection we shared, once vibrant and burning, was flickering out.

He didn’t remember me.

Or worse... they didn’t want him to.

My fingers brushed the edge of my wedding band, a simple ironwood ring, worn smooth from constant touch. A guard stepped forward. I hadn't noticed him before. He held out his hand.

"They want it," he said. "The ring."

I backed away, hand curling protectively. "No."

"If you do not comply, we will remove it by force," Elira said, her tone silk and steel.

The guard lunged, seizing my wrist. I struggled, but grief and exhaustion had drained me. In a single brutal tug, he pulled the ring free.

I cried out. Not from pain. From loss.

They were erasing me.

"You have until dawn to leave pack lands," Elira said calmly. "We will escort you to the border. I suggest you say your goodbyes to whatever illusions you were clinging to." She said then leaned closer to add, “And even this memory of him seeing you today, I will ensure he forgets it.”

My mouth opened, “Why?” I whispered, "He loved me," I choked out.

"Then why doesn’t he remember?"

She turned and walked away.

The guard dropped the ring into her waiting palm like a final insult.

I stood frozen for a long time, until the healer from earlier—still pale and trembling whispered under her breath, "I'm sorry."

It was the only kindness I received that night.

—

I ran.

Through the forest, through the cold, through the storm that had once blessed our wedding night. The same path we’d taken to the glade where Rowan promised me forever. It was ashes now, like everything else.

The trees blurred. My skin tore on thorns. I didn’t stop.

Not when the first wave of nausea hit. Not when the burning in my chest nearly dropped me to my knees.

Only when I was miles from the border did I collapse, gasping against the mossy floor, one hand cradling my stomach.

That night, I spoke aloud to the life inside me for the first time.

"I don’t know what kind of world we’re going to survive in. But you’re all I have left. And I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe. Even if it kills me."

The stars blinked above the canopy, indifferent witnesses.

Rowan Blackthorne had forgotten me.

But I would remember for both of us.

And one day, when the time was right... he would know exactly what they took from him.

“He can forget me all he wants. But I will never forget him. And I will never let them have my son.”