The Last Memory of You

Rose Murdock's POV

Two weeks ago, I had a huge fight with my brother, Raymond.

As I slammed the door on my way out, I shouted, "Even if I die out there and get torn apart by wild beasts, I don't need you! Don't you dare touch my bones!"

His face turned pale, but he yelled back instantly, "Then you'd better keep your word!"

I was an omega with barely any wolf in me. When I was attacked by a rogue, I truly thought I was going to die.

When I opened my eyes again, my vision was still blurry. Not far away, a healer was speaking softly to Raymond.

"We tried everything we could, but the poison has been in her system for some time. No one knows what the side effects will be."

I've always hated places that reek of disinfectant. I pushed myself up on the edge of the bed, wanting to walk out and tell them I was ready to leave.

Just as I reached the doorway, I heard Raymond's voice. He sounded relieved.

"She woke up once last night. She didn't even recognize me."

Last night, when I first came to, my vision hadn't cleared yet. I simply couldn't see who was there, so I asked.

The healer went on, "She's been unconscious for so long, it's normal that her memory's jumbled. We'll run another test. If there's memory loss, there are always witches' potions. The southern witch, Olivia…"

This poison mainly targeted the mind of a werewolf, and only then the body. My body felt fine. Clearly, the healer's antidote had worked.

But before the healer could finish, Raymond cut him off. "No. The less she remembers, the better. Don't let her recall anything."

My heart clenched. My hand froze on the doorknob.

'Are you really that eager to cast me away?'

I pushed the door open.

Raymond froze for a split second, then his expression turned cold again.

"Raymond, I actually—"

He frowned at first. Then, he pointed impassively at a gravely ill male werewolf lying in bed. "Miss, you've got the wrong person. That's your brother over there."

For a moment, I thought my hearing still hadn't recovered. I stared at him in a daze. My throat felt dry.

"What did you just say?" I asked.

Raymond's gaze flickered. He was my blood brother—no matter how much he resented me, I couldn't believe he would take advantage of my half-healed state to abandon me and hand me off to a stranger.

Still, having clawed back a second chance at life, I wanted to talk to him—just once more. Perhaps this time, the misunderstanding between us could be resolved.

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off harshly.

"You're sick. Your mind isn't right. I don't blame you, but stop calling me your brother. And stop bothering me."

The man Raymond had pointed to was lying in bed on the other side of the ward. His features were striking, and his skin was awfully pale.

Anyone else, suddenly saddled with a deranged sister, would have blown up.

Yet, he seemed unusually calm.

"I'm just your brother's classmate. Ask him if he'll accept you as his sister. Don't drag me into it," Raymond spat.

With that, he walked away without looking back.

My heart sank.

This wasn't the first time. He had hated me for seven years.

Yet, my tears still welled up.

Suddenly, the world turned dark before my eyes. My body went weak, and I was about to collapse.

The man on the bed moved; he got out of bed and started walking toward me.

Was he coming here to mock me and accuse me of feigning weakness? Raymond was gone. Was he going to hurt me now?

I felt terrified.

At that moment, a hand steadied me. Another hand rested gently on the crown of my head. Several seconds passed before I heard his voice.

"Honey, I'm just glad you're awake. Let's go home."