Chapter 4

The silence inside the limousine was heavy, a stark contrast to the storm we had just escaped. It wasn't peaceful; it was the suffocating quiet of a tomb.

I sat crammed into the corner of the leather seat, my arms wrapped so tightly around Sayler that my muscles ached. He was finally asleep, his small body twitching occasionally as he chased away nightmares in his sleep. His golden hair lay limp against my chest, the sheen dull with dirt and exhaustion.

Kai sat across from us, legs crossed, swirling a glass of amber liquid. He hadn't spoken since we pulled away from the pack borders. He just watched us, his hazel eyes dissecting me, piece by piece.

"He has your eyes," Kai said suddenly, breaking the silence.

I flinched, my protective instinct flaring instantly. I pulled the blanket higher over Sayler’s head. "He has his father's nose. And his cruelty."

Kai let out a low chuckle, a sound that lacked any real humor. "Cruelty is taught, Remy. He’s four. He’s a blank slate. But those eyes... that defiance. That’s all you."

He leaned forward, extending a hand. In his palm sat two small, white pills. "Give one to him. It’s a mild sedative. It’ll keep him from shifting in his sleep. His body is weak; shifting again tonight could kill him."

I stared at the pills suspiciously. "How do I know you aren't poisoning us?"

"You don't," Kai said simply, not retracting his hand. "But if I wanted you dead, I would have left you in the mud for the Silver Creek wolves. I’m not in the business of saving damsels in distress, Remy. I’m in the business of power. And that boy..." He nodded at Sayler. "He is pure power. I need him alive. So, give him the pill."

His candor was brutal, but oddly comforting. It meant he wasn't lying. He wanted Sayler for his magic, not to play house. I took the pill and forced it gently between Sayler’s lips. He stirred, murmuring "Daddy" one last time, before his breathing deepened into a steady rhythm.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice raspy from screaming.

"My estate," Kai replied, leaning back. "It’s neutral ground. Neither Nash nor the Witch can touch us there. We have wards strong enough to hide the boy’s magical signature."

"Thank you," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "For saving us."

"Don't thank me yet," Kai said, his gaze turning serious. "You understand what is happening to Nash, don't you?"

I looked down at my hands, at the jagged mating scar that had started to throb the moment we crossed the border line. "The Witch erased me."

"It's more than a simple erase," Kai corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "It’s a severance. Morana—she’s a Harvest Witch. She doesn't just suppress memories; she burns the neural pathways that hold them. The mind is a fragile thing, Remy. Nash’s brain has physically rewritten itself to accommodate the lie."

"Then there is no hope," I said, tears stinging my eyes. "If his brain has changed..."

"But his soul hasn't," Kai countered sharply. "The bond isn't in the brain. It's in the spirit. That’s why he’s in pain. That’s why his wolf is going insane. He is living a lie, and every cell in his body is screaming at him to wake up."

He gestured to my chest. "And you? You feel it too, don't you? The pull?"

"It hurts," I admitted. "It feels like I’m being ripped open."

"Distance makes it worse," Kai warned. "The further you get, the more the bond stretches. Nash will be feeling it ten times worse. He’s an Alpha; his possessiveness is tied to his power. By taking you and the heir, you’ve just chopped off his leg and handed it to his enemy."

Good.

I looked out the tinted window, watching the trees blur by. Let him hurt. Let him suffer the way I suffered. Let him feel the hollow emptiness of a mate who isn't there.

But even as I thought it, my heart constricted. I remembered the look in his eyes as he held Sayler. That flash of confusion. The way his hand had trembled when he saw the birthmark.

*Remember,* the voice had whispered in his mind. I prayed he was listening.

***

Nash POV

The pack house was suffocatingly quiet.

I stood in the center of my bedroom, the air thick with the scent of lavender and stale rain. It was quiet, but not peaceful. It was the heavy, pressurized silence of a storm that hadn't broken yet.

I felt wrong. I felt like my skin was too tight, like my organs were shifting inside my body.

I rubbed a hand over my face, my fingers shaking. I shouldn't feel this way. The threat was gone. The rogue woman and her mutt were in the Lycan’s custody. I was safe. Veronica was safe.

So why did I feel like I was dying?

I walked to the window, staring out at the dark forest. Somewhere out there, in the distance, a car was driving away. My chest ached with a sharp, physical throb every time I thought about it.

"Nash?"

The voice was soft, hesitant. Veronica stood in the doorway to the adjoining room, wrapped in a silk robe that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like a vision—a delicate flower in the moonlight.

"I'm here, my love," she murmured, walking toward me. "You're shaking."

I looked down at my hands. I was, indeed, trembling. "Just... adrenaline," I lied.

"Let me help you relax," she whispered. She reached up, her hands sliding around my neck, pulling me down.

Her lips brushed against mine.

The reaction was instant and violent.

My stomach heaved. It wasn't a romantic rush; it was a wave of nausea so powerful it blinded me. My wolf, usually dormant when I was with her, suddenly lunged inside my mind, snapping and snarling in absolute rage.

Wrong! Wrong! Get off!

I shoved Veronica away with more force than I intended. She stumbled back, hitting the wall, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

"Nash?" she gasped, rubbing her arm. "What is it?"

I didn't answer. I doubled over, gripping the edge of the dresser, my knuckles turning white. I dry-heaved, my body trying to expel something that wasn't there.

"I... I don't know," I choked out, gasping for air. "I felt... sick."

"It's just the stress of the night," Veronica said, recovering quickly. She approached me again, but more cautiously this time. "She poisoned your mind, Nash. You need to reconnect with what is real. With us."

She tried to touch my shoulder.

I flinched violently, moving out of her reach. "Don't touch me."

Veronica’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of irritation cutting through her concern. "You're letting that witch get to you. She’s casting spells from a distance, Nash. You have to be strong."

"I said don't touch me!" I roared, my Alpha voice booming in the small room.

Veronica flinched, shrinking back. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm just trying to help you. I'm your mate."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Mate.

Why did that word feel like ash in my mouth?

"I need to sleep," I said, my voice rough. "I need... to clear my head."

I walked past her, ignoring her reaching hands, and locked myself in the ensuite bathroom. I leaned heavily on the marble sink, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I looked like hell. My eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging in my neck. I looked deranged.

"She's not real," I told my reflection. "Remy is dead. That woman was a lie. A trick."

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face. The shock of the ice helped clear the nausea, but it did nothing for the ache in my chest.

I looked up, water dripping from my chin.

And I stopped breathing.

Behind me, reflected in the mirror, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, was a woman.

It wasn't Veronica.

It was Remy.

But she wasn't the dirty, broken rogue from the border. She was glowing—bathed in a soft, ethereal light. She was wearing the white dress she had worn the night I marked her. Her hair was loose, cascading down her back, and her eyes held a sadness so deep it made my heart crack.

"Remy..." I whispered, spinning around.

The room was empty.

Just the bedroom, dimly lit. Veronica was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to me, crying softly.

I spun back to the mirror.

The ghost was still there. She was closer now, reaching out a hand toward my reflection. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

I stared at her, mesmerized. I felt a pull toward her, a magnetic draw that made the bathroom feel like it was spinning.

Who are you? I screamed in my mind.

She smiled sadly, tears tracking down her glowing cheeks.

She pointed to her left shoulder.

I looked down at my own left shoulder. I had a scar there—a reminder from a battle years ago. But in the mirror, the ghost of Remy pointed to the spot where my mating bite should be... where hers was.

The mark.

The image shifted. The glowing Remy faded, and for a split second, the mirror showed a different image. A nursery. A crib. And a small boy with golden eyes.

I slammed my fist into the glass.

The mirror shattered, the shards raining down into the sink and onto the floor, cutting my hands. I didn't feel the pain.

I stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping onto the tile.

"Go away!" I shouted at the empty room. "Leave me alone!"

"Nash!" Veronica burst into the bathroom, alarmed by the noise. She gasped when she saw the broken mirror and the blood. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

She rushed to me, grabbing a towel to wrap around my bleeding hand.

"Did you see her?" I demanded, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Did you see her in the reflection?"

Veronica froze. Her mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing sheer terror. Then she hid it, covering it with concern.

"See who, Nash?" she whispered, her hand going to her stomach as if she were nauseous. "The rogue? She's gone, Nash. She's with the Lycan. You're hallucinating. The stress... it's breaking you."

She looked me dead in the eye, her voice dropping to a low, rhythmic hum. "There is no one here but us. You are safe. You are mine."

The hum vibrated in my skull, pushing against the fog. The ache in my chest receded slightly, replaced by a dull numbness.

I let go of her shoulders, the fight draining out of me. "I'm... I'm just tired."

"Come to bed," Veronica coaxed, pulling me toward the bedroom. "I will make you forget. I promise."

She led me to the bed. As I lay down, my back to her, I stared at the wall. I felt her slide in behind me, wrapping her arm around my waist.

I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep.

In the darkness behind my eyelids, I saw the golden-eyed boy. I saw the mark on the shoulder. And I felt the echo of the bond, stretching thin and frayed, pulling me toward the north.

Toward the Lycan’s territory.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my body to relax.

"I don't know who you are," I thought into the darkness, imagining the woman in the mirror. "But I swear to the Goddess... I will find out."

And when I do, I would either kill her... or die trying.