All Chapters of The Wolf Who Forgot Me: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

MIRA POV“I need to understand something,” I said.Sophia looked up from her desk. She had been writing something when I knocked and she had not looked particularly surprised to see me, which was one of the things about Sophia. She rarely looked surprised by anything.“Sit down,” she said.I sat.“He found it in the memories,” I said. “Days during the mission that felt lighter than they should have. He traced them back. He thinks the warmth of me carrying his memories was reaching him through the bond. Not thoughts, not memories, just the warmth of it.” I looked at her. “I did not know that was possible. I need to know if it is real or if he has made a mistake about what he felt.”Sophia held my gaze for a moment.Then she stood up and went to the bookshelf on the far wall. Not the main one. The narrow one in the corner that had older things on it, the kind of things that did not get referenced often but had been there long enough that she knew exactly where each one was without looki

MIRA POV“It is a bad day,” I said.He looked up from his desk. I was in the doorway of the home office, still in my coat, bag still on my shoulder. I had come straight from the healer centre and I had not quite made it further than the doorway.“Okay,” he said.Just that. Not what happened or are you alright or tell me what is wrong. Just okay. Said the same way he said any other fact.“Nothing specific caused it,” I said. “I want to be clear about that. Nothing went wrong. It is just a bad day.”“Okay,” he said again.He put his pen down. Closed the file he had open. Not dramatically, not making a big thing of the closing. Just done with it.“I was going to finish the Kellran correspondence tonight,” he said. “It can wait.”“You do not have to stop what you are doing,” I said.“I know,” he said. “I am choosing to.”I stood in the doorway for another second. Still in my coat. Still with the bag. The apartment was warm, that specific warmth it had in the evenings when the window was o

MIRA POV“So when a transfer goes past the safe limit,” I said, “the first sign is usually auditory. The carrier starts hearing the voice of the person they are carrying when that person is not present. Brief at first. Then more frequent.”The junior healer in the front row, the one who had brought me the questions, raised her hand. “How do you distinguish that from regular stress responses? Wolves under pressure sometimes report auditory symptoms.”“Good question,” I said. “The difference is specificity. A stress response gives you vague sounds, background noise, your own thoughts louder than usual. A transfer overload gives you one specific voice saying specific things. Things the carried person would actually say. It is very targeted.”“And the visual symptoms,” someone else said. “The shimmer you mentioned.”“Peripheral first,” I said. “Edges of the vision. Like looking through slightly dirty glass at the sides. It is intermittent early on and becomes more constant as the overload

MIRA POVHe woke up at three in the morning.I knew because his breathing changed. Not loud. Not a gasp. Just the shift from deep to present, the specific quality of someone suddenly awake in the way that had nothing to do with resting.I lay still for a second. Listening to him not go back to sleep.“Bad memory?” I said.“Yes,” he said.His voice was flat the way it went when something had gotten through and he was deciding what to do with it.“Which one?” I said.“The mountain road,” he said. “The safe house.”I went very still inside.“Do you want to talk about it,” I said, “or do you want me to just stay awake with you?”A pause.“Stay awake,” he said.“Okay,” I said.We lay there in the dark. The apartment doing its night sounds, the faint city noise outside, the cracked window letting cold air move through. His breathing was even but not the sleep kind. Present. Working through something.“You said you know that one,” he said after a while.“I do,” I said.“How much of it,” he s

MIRA POV“You’ve gone quiet,” I said.Caius didn’t look up from the file in front of him. His coffee had been sitting untouched for twenty minutes, which meant whatever was in his head was loud enough to drown out the cold.“I’m thinking,” he said.“About the files?”“No.”I put my pen down. He was still looking at the page but his eyes weren’t moving, which meant he wasn’t reading it either. I knew his quiet by now. The work quiet was different from this one. This one had weight in it.“Then what?” I asked.He closed the file. Slowly, like he was buying himself a second. Then he looked at me across the table and said, “The bond.”Just those two words. My stomach did something fast and complicated.“What about it?” I said, and my voice came out steadier than I felt.“Not the thread,” he said. “Not what we already have. The completion of it. The formal thing. The full moon, the pack as witness, the permanent version.” He held my gaze and didn’t blink. “I’ve been thinking about it.”The