Chapter 2: The Forgotten

He looks at me like I’ve completely lost my mind and he doesn’t know whether to keep on laughing or take this a little more seriously.

“You’ve been having these dreams since the babies were born. The doctors said postpartum stress can scramble everything. There has never been a fire. It was just a dream. And you’ve never forgotten our kids before.”

I stare at the twins again. The boy has a tiny fist near his mouth. The girl has dark lashes against her cheek. My wolf can smell them from here and they smell like milk and something that pulls at the center of my chest so hard it hurts.

The scent feels familiar. Like Trojan’s sandy scent mixed with something else I can’t make out.

“I don’t remember being pregnant,” I whisper. “I don’t remember giving birth. I don’t remember climbing into bed with you. I don’t remember any of this.”

Trojan takes another step closer. He doesn’t touch me. His voice drops lower with worry.

“We made a mistake one night. Both of us. Too much to drink. Grief and loneliness and timing that should never have lined up. The twins were the result. We decided to raise them together because it was the right thing to do. That’s all this is. An agreement. A family for them.”

I look at him and the lie is so obvious it almost makes me sick. The way his eyes keep dropping to my mouth. The way his hands stay clenched at his sides like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me. This man is not looking at me like I’m a temporary arrangement.

The door opens without a knock.

Marcus walks in like he owns the air in the room. Same sharp smile and cold eyes. He takes one look at me standing there in a milk-stained shirt, hair a mess, arms wrapped around my chest, and the smile turns vicious.

“She’s awake,” he says. “And still completely unhinged. Shocking.”

Trojan’s voice drops into something dangerous. “Marcus.”

Marcus ignores him. He steps closer to the bassinet. I move without thinking, putting myself between him and the twins. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him anywhere near them.

He notices and frowns. “You’re going to have to get over that eventually. I’m their brother. I’ll always be in their lives.”

“Stay away from them,” I say. The words come out flat and absolute. I don’t even recognize my own voice.

Marcus laughs softly. “Always so dramatic.” He glances at his father. “You should get her help before she starts disrupting the whole pack.”

Trojan moves. One step and the air in the room changes. Power rolls off him quiet and heavy. Marcus’s shoulders tighten even if he pretends they don’t.

“Leave,” Trojan says. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but I’m quickly losing my patience. Fix it.”

Marcus holds my gaze for another second. There’s something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. Not just hate. Knowledge, like he’s waiting for me flip.

Then he turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him.

I turn on Trojan. My hands are still shaking. My shirt is still wet. My body still feels like it belongs to someone else.

“There really wasn’t a fire?” I ask, my voice shaking, because I vividly remember Marcus and his minions trapping me in that building.

Trojan doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me, and for one unguarded second I see fear in his eyes.

“There was no fire,” he says quietly.

I look down at the twins. Leo’s eyes open, a clear blue, just like mine. He looks at me and coos, his lips going up as he starts playing by himself.

A flicker moves behind my eyes. Trojan’s mouth against my neck. His voice rough and low saying my name like it hurt him to say it. My own hands in his hair. The absolute certainty that I chose this. That I wanted it more than I wanted air.

The image is gone as fast as it came.

I look up at him. “You don’t look at me like this is just an agreement.”

His breath catches before he looks away.

“Get dressed,” he says. “We’ll go to the science building when you’re ready. You need to see it for yourself. This has been going on for too long.”

He goes into another door that I assume is the bathroom and closes the door.

I stay where I am, trying to make sense of what’s happening to me.