Alle Kapitel von When My Alpha Remembered Too Late: Kapitel 31 – Kapitel 40

She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and an expression that told me she'd already rehearsed every word of what she was about to say."I want you to pack your things." Olivia said it without preamble, the moment I opened the door to find her standing there, morning light still gray and unforgiving behind her. "Today, Clara. I want you out of this packhouse by tonight."I blinked at her, still half-caught in the exhaustion of another sleepless night spent turning the wedding announcement over and over in my mind. "Liv, we already talked about this.""We talked about it before they posted the date on a board for the entire pack to gawk at." She pushed past me into the room, pacing in the same restless way she had the night before, though something in her had clearly hardened overnight into resolve rather than fury. "Clara, I watched you stand in that corridor yesterday staring at an announcement that erased two years of your life like it never happened. I'm not watching you end

I learned to vomit silently before I learned almost anything else about being pregnant, and there was nothing remotely beautiful about that particular skill.The mornings had grown crueler over the past two weeks, the nausea arriving earlier and lingering longer, no longer the brief, manageable waves I'd experienced at first but something closer to a full assault that left me trembling and drenched in sweat by the time it finally passed. Grace had warned me it might intensify as the pregnancy progressed, especially carrying twins, but warning myself mentally and actually surviving it every single morning turned out to be two entirely different experiences.I'd perfected the routine by necessity. Lock the door first, always, before anything else, the click of the bolt sliding home becoming its own small ritual of safety. Run water in the basin loud enough to mask any sound that might carry beyond these walls. Press a folded cloth against my mouth when the worst of it hit, biting down h

I woke up saying a name that wasn't Serena's, and for three full seconds, I had no idea where I actually was.The dream had felt more real than memory usually does, more real, honestly, than most of my actual waking life had felt since opening my eyes in that infirmary bed weeks ago. Sunlight, warm and golden, slanting through a kitchen window I couldn't place but somehow recognized completely. The smell of something baking. Laughter, bright and unguarded, a woman's laughter, turning toward me with flour dusted across her cheek and her whole face lit up like I was the best thing she'd seen all day.Clara.I sat up fast, my heart hammering, the dream already dissolving at the edges the way dreams do, details slipping through my fingers no matter how desperately I tried holding onto them. But her name stayed. Her laugh stayed, echoing somewhere behind my ribs long after the rest of the dream had scattered into nothing."Alex?" Serena stirred beside me, voice thick with sleep, reaching f

I stood in the middle of my own life's funeral, dressed in someone else's idea of appropriate mourning, and smiled because the alternative was screaming.The hall had been transformed again, more lavish even than the welcome dinner Serena had thrown for herself months ago, gold and ivory draped across every surface, an orchestra she'd apparently imported specifically for the occasion playing something light and celebratory that made my teeth ache every time the melody swelled. Serena moved through the crowd in a gown the color of fresh cream, laughing easily at every compliment thrown her way, Alex's hand resting at the small of her back like he'd never once questioned whether it belonged there.I'd debated not attending at all. Margaret had quietly suggested I might claim illness, spare myself the indignity of watching this performance play out in front of an audience who'd already decided which version of the story to applaud. But some stubborn, exhausted part of me had refused, unw

I started asking questions I had no business asking, and somewhere around the third conversation, I stopped pretending to myself that I wasn't taking a considerable risk doing it.The broker the rogue had described, refined, uncomfortable around violence despite orchestrating it, female, motivated by reclaiming something she believed was hers, fit Serena's profile too precisely to be coincidence, but precise suspicion still wasn't proof, and proof required digging into territory considerably more dangerous than the quiet, careful documentation Dr. Reed and Margaret had been managing so far.So I started talking to people. Pack contacts I'd cultivated over years of service as Beta, warriors stationed near the contested borders where rogue activity tended to concentrate, a handful of traders who moved through territories most respectable wolves avoided, the kind of people who heard things long before official channels ever caught wind of them.I started with Garrick, an old contact who