Chapter 3

The memory dropped me straight into chaos.

Wolves shouting. Blood on the floor. My mother being carried in through the front doors of the pack house, unconscious, her side ripped open.

There'd been a fight at the border with the Blackwater Pack. She'd taken a hit meant for one of our young wolves.

I remembered this night. I'd been home for six months.

The pack healer worked on her for hours. When he finally came out, his face was grim.

"She's stable. But the next twelve hours are critical. Somebody needs to stay with her. If her fever spikes or her breathing changes, you come get me right away."

My father couldn't stay. The pack elders had called an emergency meeting. Garrett went with him.

Bianca poked her head into the room where my mother lay, pale and still.

"She'll be fine," she said, already turning away. "He said she's stable. Why sit around freaking out?"

"Someone should stay with her."

"So you stay." Bianca waved me off. "I need my sleep. I've got a fitting tomorrow for my Hunter's Moon Ball dress."

She disappeared down the hall.

So I stayed.

All night, I sat next to my mother's bed. I swapped out the damp cloths when the fever soaked her through. I held her hand when she whimpered in her sleep. I watched every breath she took like my own life depended on it.

I didn't know anything about pack medicine. All I had was what I'd picked up in the human world. Basic first aid, common sense, and pure panic.

But I couldn't leave her alone.

What if something happened? What if she stopped breathing and nobody was there?

By sunrise, her fever had broken. Her breathing was slow and even. She was going to make it.

I was so relieved I almost cried.

I dragged myself back to my room and passed out on my bed.

I woke up to Garrett's hand around my throat.

He yanked me off the bed and slammed me into the wall. His palm hit my face before I even knew what was going on.

"You worthless bitch."

"What—"

"Mom almost died last night." His voice shook with rage. "And you were in here sleeping? Bianca sat up all night with her. She nearly collapsed this morning from exhaustion. And you couldn't be bothered to check on her once?"

"That's not—I was the one who—"

He hit me again. Harder.

"Don't you dare lie to me."

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard voices in the hall.

Bianca's, soft and sweet: "Easy, Mom. Lean on me. Little steps."

I looked past Garrett's shoulder.

My mother was awake now, shuffling down the hall with Bianca holding her up. She glanced into my room.

Our eyes met.

Her face was cold and distant, like I was a stranger she had no interest in knowing.

Then she looked away and let Bianca walk her down the hall.

My throat closed up.

I sat up all night for you.

I was so scared you were going to die.

And that's how you look at me?

A voice broke into the memory.

The present. My mother.

"That was... you?"

The memory fell apart, and I opened my eyes in the den.

My mother had yanked her hand off the edge of the moonwater bowl like it burned her. Her face was white. Her hands were shaking.

"That night—" Her voice cracked. "It was you who stayed with me? Not Bianca?"

I looked at her. My cheek still throbbed where Garrett had hit me today, and the old sting from the memory sat right on top of it.

"I tried to tell you," I said quietly. "After. More than once."

"Why didn't I—" She pressed a hand to her mouth. Tears spilled down her face. "Oh, Goddess. Ivy. I didn't know. I believed her. I thought—"

"She had three years to speak up. She chose not to." My father's voice cut right through her crying. "If she wanted us to know, she would've made us listen. She didn't. That's on her."

"I did tell you." My voice came out flat. I was so tired. "Nobody listened."

Silence.

My mother cried quietly.

Garrett stood stiff, his jaw tight. He didn't apologize. He didn't defend himself either.

My father let out a slow breath.

"Fine. Bianca took credit for something she didn't do. That's... disappointing." His voice hardened. "But say all of this is true. The drink, the lie about that night. So what?"

He took a step toward me.

"Is that why you wanted to hurt her? Because she pulled a few pranks? Told a few lies?" He stared me down. "That's your excuse for trying to kill her?"

I stared back at him.

He still believed it. Even after everything he'd just watched.

"I didn't—"

"Bianca isn't perfect," he went on. "I see that now. But she's still my daughter. I raised her. When we find her, I'll make sure she apologizes. I'll deal with her myself."

He turned to the seer.

"Keep going. I need to know where she went."

The seer hesitated. "Alpha, her spirit is starting to strain. Her wolf still hasn't come in. If we push harder—"

"I said keep going."

"She could lose her memories. Her wolf. For good."

My father didn't even blink.

"Then she'd better hope the next one gives me what I need."

The seer looked at me. Something flickered in her pale eyes.

Then she laid her hands on my head.

And the pull dragged me under again.