The Witch And The Alpha
Attention.
“Okay.”
“It’s not… right.”
“Define ‘not right.’”
I swallow.
Because I don’t know how.
“It feels like a memory,” I say slowly. “But it doesn’t sit where it should.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s there,” I press a hand lightly to my temple, frustrated, “but it doesn’t connect to anything else.”
He watches me carefully.
“Say it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the moment I try to hold it, it—” I stop.