CHAPTER 4

Elsie's POV

The world swam into focus once more.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, and then my breath caught in my throat.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Soft light filtered in through gauzy curtains. My chest tightened.

This… wasn’t right.

This isn’t right.

Wasn’t I just… falling off a cliff moments ago?

I bolted upright with a gasp, the scream ripping from my throat before I could stop it.

“Elsie!”

I heard a familiar voice call my name.

Lucas.

I turned toward the sound, heart thundering. He was sitting beside me, one hand reaching toward my arm. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

What’s wrong?

The audacity to…

I yanked away from his touch like it burned. My feet hit the floor, and I stumbled backward, chest heaving.

My legs nearly gave out, but I forced myself upright, standing as I scanned the room like a trapped animal.

A bedroom. Calm, cozy, even pretty—with soft cream walls and a faint scent of cedarwood. The bed was huge, the sheets tangled from my thrashing.

I didn’t recognize a single thing.

My fingers curled into fists as a chill ran down my spine. No. No, this can't be right. I was just—

I swallowed, shaking my head violently.

“I don’t—” My voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I don’t understand…”

I stared at Lucas, really stared at him. My lungs forgot how to work.

He looked... different.

Younger.

The lines that usually braced his forehead—gone. The stubble I remembered grazing my skin in quieter moments? Nowhere in sight. His jaw was smooth, his hair longer and unkempt, like he hadn’t gotten around to cutting it in weeks.

His eyes, still the same forest green, were wide with concern.

This couldn’t be real.

“I was falling,” I whispered, almost to myself. “You shot me. I was falling. Off the cliff. I felt it—I felt it.”

Lucas stood, arms out slowly like he was trying to calm a frightened animal. “Elsie, you’re safe. You’re okay. I swear. It was just a bad dream, I promise you.”

I took another shaky step back, my hands rising to my head. My fingers tangled in my hair, tugging as if grounding myself would make any of this make sense.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“I’m losing it,” I whispered, breath coming too fast. “I’ve finally lost it. I’ve gone insane or… I’m dead. Is this the afterlife?” My voice cracked at the end, and the panic pressed tighter against my ribs.

Lucas took a cautious step forward. “Elsie—”

“No.” I lifted a hand to stop him. “I… I just need a second. I need the bathroom.” The excuse tumbled out before I could think. I couldn’t let him touch me. Not when everything inside me was screaming wrong.

His brow furrowed. “Why are you asking me that? You know where it is.”

I blinked at him, confused, but I didn't respond. I couldn’t.

“Please, just—where?” I asked again, voice barely steady.

He sighed, pointing to a door beside the wardrobe. “There. But seriously, Elsie—what’s going on with you?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look at him.

I turned, rushed across the room, and shut the door behind me. The lock clicked with a satisfying finality.

I stumbled to the sink and twisted the tap, cold water rushing out. Without thinking, I splashed it over my face—once, twice, again and again until my skin stung.

My breaths came in shallow bursts, but slowly, the panic ebbed, replaced by something colder. Heavier.

No… this wasn’t a dream.

It felt too real, too vivid to even be classified as one.

The gun.

The way the barrel looked from my angle—so still, so merciless.

The sound it made—loud, final.

The bullet tearing through my skull.

Lucas’s face. Blank.

Adira's wicked smile curling at the edge.

My fall from the edge of the cliff and the final prayer I muttered as I stared at the moon.

I clutched the edge of the sink and lifted my head.

Then I saw myself in the mirror.

And everything inside me stilled.

I leaned in, breath fogging the glass. My skin was smoother. Clear. No scar by my jawline. The faint crease between my brows—gone. My hair… darker. Fuller.

You look like you’re barely eighteen…

I took a step back, my eyes darting around the bathroom. The cracked tile by the towel rack. The old brass taps. The faded curtains with those tiny sunflowers.

I know this place.

This wasn’t just any bathroom.

This was Lucas’s bathroom. From years ago. From before he became Alpha.

Ten years ago.

No...

My heart thudded painfully. A memory slipped into place like a puzzle piece I didn’t know I was missing.

Did I go back in time?

Is that even possible?

Back to when? When we were still—

I spun on my heel, unlocked the door, and burst into the bedroom.

“Lucas,” I gasped. “What’s the date?”

He blinked, startled. “Uh… the twelfth? Twelfth of September?”

“No, no—what year?”

His brow furrowed, a little more cautious now. “...2015.”

I stared at him.

What the f***?

He opened his mouth to say something, but I slammed the bathroom door shut again, leaning against it with shaking hands.

I leaned against the door, trying to slow my breathing, trying not to completely fall apart. The cool wood at my back grounded me, but barely.

September twelfth…

My mind whirled, sorting through the fragments of memory like pages from a torn-up book. That date—it rang louder now. Not just random. Not just familiar.

September twelfth…

By the goddess—

I gasped in pure shock.

This was the day Lucas had proposed to me.