Chapter 2

For a heartbeat, something real flickered on his face—alarm, quick and self-focused.

Then it hardened into irritation. “Don’t do that.”

Footsteps hurried in. My mother’s scent—jasmine and steel—reached me first, followed by my father’s cold authority.

“Priscilla,” my mother breathed, gripping my hand. Her fingers shook despite her posture. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

“Mom,” I whispered.

Relief loosened her shoulders, then snapped them straight again when Alger spoke.

“She’s acting,” he said.

My father’s eyes cut to him. “My daughter nearly died.”

Alger’s jaw clenched. “She’s a wolf.”

“She’s an Omega,” my father corrected, voice like stone. “And even wolves drown.”

A doctor entered, calm and silver-haired. “Miss Fontaine,” he said gently, “do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” I answered.

“And do you remember what happened?”

I glanced at Alger, then away, as if his face carried no meaning.

“I fell,” I said. “I think.”

Alger stood so fast the chair scraped. “You did not fall.”

The doctor held up a hand. “Mr. Reynolds, please.”

Alger leaned over me, eyes burning. “Look at me.”

My wolf recoiled instinctively. My body remembered his shove even if my words pretended not to.

He reached for my wrist.

I jerked back. Pain flared in my ribs, but fear flared hotter.

“Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

The doctor stepped between us. “That’s enough.”

Alger’s scent thickened—pine, smoke, dominance. My Omega instincts twitched, betraying me with a reflexive pull toward submission.

I crushed it.

Alger stared at me, and his voice shifted into the tone he used when he wanted obedience without resistance.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

Safe.

The ocean flooded my mouth again in memory.

I turned to the doctor. “Can you make him leave?”

My mother inhaled sharply. My father’s jaw tightened like he’d just crossed a line in his head and decided what it meant.

Alger went still.

“You’re doing this,” he said softly, “because of her.”

I blinked at him, letting confusion be my mask.

His mouth twisted. “Poppy,” he said, and there it was—the name like a shield. “You’re jealous. You’re punishing me.”

“Who’s Poppy?” I asked.

The lie landed clean.

Alger’s eyes narrowed. “You remember your parents. So don’t pretend you don’t remember—”

He cut off as my mother pressed her fingers to my cheek. “Pris… do you remember Alger? He’s your fiancé.”

I stared at my mother, then back to Alger, as if trying to place him.

My voice stayed soft. “I don’t know him.”

Alger’s expression shifted, anger rolling in to cover the crack of uncertainty.

“This is manipulation,” he snapped. “Selective amnesia? Really?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Trauma can cause—”

Alger ignored him. “You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone and walk away?”

Humiliate.

Yes, I thought. Exactly.

I swallowed against the burn in my throat and delivered the line I’d chosen in the dark, underwater.

“My boyfriend is Ralap Callahan,” I whispered.

Silence detonated.

My mother froze. My father’s gaze sharpened into pure calculation—pack politics flickering behind his eyes.

Alger’s face twisted like I’d struck him.

“Don’t say that name,” he hissed. “Not to me.”

“He’s the one I’m supposed to call,” I said, steady as a heartbeat. “I remember him.”

Alger took one step forward, then another, as if his body wanted to lunge and his pride refused to look desperate.

“Ralap is my enemy,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “He’s been trying to take my seat since we were children. He wants my pack. My status. My future.”

My father’s mouth tightened. My mother’s hand gripped mine harder.

Alger leaned closer, enough that only I could hear him.

“Fine,” he murmured. “We’ll play your little game.”

His smile was all teeth.

“But listen carefully, Priscilla.”

I didn’t flinch.

“I know you’re lying,” he said. “And when you ‘remember,’ you’ll come back. Because you’re mine.”

The possessive certainty in his voice made my skin crawl.

Then he straightened, nodded once at the doctor like he’d just concluded business, and walked out.

But his scent lingered in the room like smoke.

My mother turned to me, voice shaking. “Ralap Callahan? Since when?”

I stared at the door Alger had left through.

Since you shoved me into the sea, I thought.

“Since now,” I said softly.

And my wolf—quiet all day—lifted its head and bared its teeth.