Chapter 14: Fragments Of Memory

Billie’s POV

I stare at the bread spread painting the floor for a second before slowly looking back at Trojan. He’s standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me, and I can feel the heat crawling up my neck. Of all the things he could've walked in on, it had to be that.

Marlon is still sitting at the kitchen bar, trying very hard not to laugh, while Marcus looks like he wants to murder me. I don't know which part is worse. The fact that Trojan heard me say he likes my junk or the fact that I actually said it out loud.

Trojan's eyes move from me to Marcus, then to Marlon. His jaw tightens as he folds his arms. “Why are you two here?”

Marcus immediately straightens. “I was making lunch.”

“I can see that,” Trojan says, his voice flat. “I’m just not sure why you’re doing it here. You can finish it at the pack house.”

Marcus glances at Marlon before looking back at him. “Dad—”

“The pack house, Marcus.” Trojan’s voice remains calm. “And later we’re gonna have words.”

Marcus's mouth closes. He gives me a look that promises this isn't over, then pushes away from the counter. Marlon gets up after him, looking considerably more amused than he should, considering it’s clear his omega’s father doesn’t want him in his space.

I glance down at the margarine on the floor, my face still hot. “So, that could've gone better.”

Trojan walks farther into the kitchen, but instead of answering, he stops beside me. His hand reaches for mine, and I instinctively let him take it.

I notice the blood on his hand, but there’s no cut. “What happened?”

His fingers close around mine before he lets go. “The vampire.”

I frown, because a werewolf doesn’t heal quite as fast from a vampire wound. He should still have marks from the fangs. And why would a vampire subject himself to the venom?

“He bit you?” I ask.

“No,” he whispers with an awkward smile. “I cut myself in the interrogation.”

He slowly walks around the counter to the sink and starts washing his hand. Then he turns back to look at me. “I’ll make you some lunch. Nora will clean that up.” He points to the floor.

I don’t tell him that I don’t know a Nora. “I can just eat what Marcus made.”

He shakes his head. “He’s acting too shady for my liking, masking his scent, bringing Marlon to the house when he’s never done it since Marlon rejected you. And he was so fucking jittery just now.”

I bite my lower lip to keep from saying anything. I don’t want to unintentionally give him more reason to make him doubt Marcus.

He dries his hands, and starts with the sausages. “That woman called you the mother.”

“Yes,” I whisper to quickly. “She also said they didn’t expect to meet me so soon. Could the mother thing be referring to the twins, being their mom and all?”

“I don’t get it,” he stops beating the eggs and looks at me. “What’s so special about it? That lousy bloodsucker we caught even hinted at your lack of natural scent.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Lack of is putting it mildly. “They were waiting for someone who told them to meet there.”

He nods absently and continues cooking. I decide to help clear the bar of Marcus’s food. I gently put the dishes in the sink. I’m about to turn back when I bump into him and fall on my ass before he can catch me.

I instantly feel a pair of soft hands touch my wrists and start pulling me across the floor. It burns, everything burns. My head feels like my hair is on fire, and my skin feels like it’s detached from my bones and trying to piece everything together.

Molly is screaming violently in my head as she tries to heal us.

I try to open my eyes to see who is dragging me but the only one that opens doesn’t even see properly. I only make out dark, long hair and striking green eyes. She stops dragging me, and my arms fall to the ground. I can’t groan in pain.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers, her voice sounding distant even though she’s so close. “You’ll heal, eventually.”

Why does it feel like I’m inside a volcano, but I can’t get out and I can’t die either? I close my eye and try to slip away but I can’t, my mind won’t close itself off from Momo’s screaming. She just won’t shut up.

‘Please, Momo, let me go.’

She still doesn’t stop.

“No one will remember this.” The woman’s voice returns next to my ear. “Not even you.”

“Billie.” Rough hands land on my shoulder and I jump up, hitting the cabinet.