I lied.
It was a mistake.
Now my mate hates me.
Can I blame him?
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Yum. These scents make me want to curl under a blanket with a warm, slightly sweet London Fog tea while listening to music.
"I love you, Willow. I'm sorry...for everything."
That voice, filled with heartbreak and disappointment, sits in my mind like an old memory. How do I know that voice?
An incessant beeping pulls me from my thoughts and my eyes flutter open. I'm in an unfamiliar room, a very bright room that hurts my eyes, so I shut them, returning to darkness and that awful sound.
Moons, that sound is annoying.
After a few seconds, I slowly re-open my eyes, giving them time to adjust to the light. It doesn't take me long to figure out I'm in the pack's infirmary.
Memories, painful and bloody memories come flooding in, and anxiety builds in my chest.
"Punish her!"
"You heard the Alpha, runt. Punishment it is."
"You can't get out of those cuffs, Willow. They're made from tungsten, the strongest metal in the world. You're trapped."
Pain.
All I remember is the pain, burning and deep.
Tears spring from my eyes at the memories as nausea builds in my tummy.
Am I alive? If so, how?
A clearing throat forces me from my panic and my eyes snap toward the noise.
Dr. Arnou stands, leaning against the wall. His hands are in his pockets and a soft, welcoming smile is stretched over his face. Seeing him here settles my nerves a little. He's always been kind to me, even when everything happened four years ago. He never seemed angry with me—disappointed, yes—but never angry for the events that occurred.
"Welcome back, Willow," he says, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. He glances at the annoying heart monitor before meeting my eyes directly. "Glad you're back with us. Do you remember why you're here?"
I wish I didn't. I nod.
"Y-yes," I whisper. "I—" But the words get caught in my dry throat. I try to swallow some saliva, but it's useless. My mouth might as well be a desert wasteland.
"Here," Dr. Arnou says, reaching for a cup with a straw. He moves it toward me, putting the straw directly in front of my mouth. "This should help a little."
I don't hesitate to take a sip. I know it's just water, but it might as well be an Oreo shake. It tastes amazing and feels even better going down my throat. If I'm honest, I could drink a camel-sized amount right now with no shame, but knowing Dr. Arnou, a prestigious doctor, is standing there, staring at me as I suck water down my throat at an alarming rate forces me to pull away to salvage some of the little dignity I have left.
