Chapter 9

Dahlia.

I sat on the bench, gazing at the green valley stretching out before me like a scene straight from a motivational poster. The breeze tickled my face, a soft whisper of nature's therapy, and for a moment, I tried to imagine what it sounded like. Nothing came to mind—silence was my normal.

I closed my eyes, letting the breeze play over me, and when I opened them, Billie was standing there, staring at me like I owed her rent money.

"Sorry if I startled you," she said, her expression suggesting she wasn't sorry at all.

"It's fine. I was just enjoying the outdoors," I signed, shifting to make room for her on the bench. She plopped down beside me, her energy calm yet oddly intimidating.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

I paused. Should I tell her the truth? That my husband's enthusiasm had left me walking like a penguin? No, best not. I simply nodded, offering her a small smile. But as I glanced at her, something struck me—I'd never really seen her eyes.

Her round glasses reflected light like tiny, portable mirrors, leaving me wondering if she could see out of them or if they were just part of some mysterious werewolf cosplay aesthetic.

"Am I the only human here?" I asked, hoping the question didn't sound as ridiculous as it felt.

She nodded solemnly, as if this was groundbreaking news. "But don't worry. You're perfectly safe. No one will lay a finger on you—I promise."

Her lips moved as she spoke, but the way her words lingered gave me chills, like I was in some supernatural version of a mob movie. "Don't worry, kid. You're under my protection now."

I nodded, though her ominous reassurance wasn't exactly comforting. "Tell me about werewolves. I want to understand this world better," I signed, deciding distraction was the best way to suppress my rising nerves.

"What would you like to know?" she asked, leaning in slightly, as if about to spill ancient secrets.

"My husband's eyes—they glowed gold. Does that mean he's… dangerous?" I signed, trying not to sound too much like a tourist in Werewolf Land.

She let out a soft laugh, like I'd just asked if the sky was blue. "Oh, honey, dangerous? Let's just say if his eyes glow gold, he's probably deciding whether to cuddle you or eat someone alive. It's a coin toss, really."

I blinked. Great. Comforting.

She chuckled, a mischievous glint in her chuckle. "Anyway, a glow like that means he's aroused by you."

I blinked, almost choking on the air. "Oh! I aroused him? Me?" I signed, my face heating faster than a microwave burrito.

"The master is... special. He's a lycan—far more powerful than a regular werewolf. His strength and abilities are unmatched," she explained, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

I nodded, trying to process. Aroused by me and superpowered? My brain filed this under "things to overthink at 3 a.m."

"Fascinating," I signed with a forced smile, pretending I wasn't internally screaming.

"I'll find a book in the library that goes into more detail," Billie offered with an encouraging smile. I nodded, signing a quick "thank you."

A vibrant purple butterfly floated past, catching my attention. Its wings shimmered like it had been dipped in fairy dust. For a moment, everything felt calm, almost magical. Then Billie tapped my shoulder, yanking me back to reality.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, her face dipping into curiosity.

I nodded, bracing myself for whatever was coming.

"What was it like growing up in the cult?"

Oh, that question. I sighed, trying to find the words. "It was... blah," I signed. "We lived under strict rules, and the leader was like a shadow—always there but never really seen. Everything was 'for our benefit,' or so they said. It felt like being part of an enormous, invisible family. Honestly, it wasn't great."

Billie's expression shifted, her usual cool demeanor softening. "What happened the day of the mass demise?"

My chest tightened as memories I'd rather forget clawed their way to the surface. I exhaled slowly, steadying my hands. "We started the day like any other. After that, everything's a blur. My clearest memory is standing in a field of... corpses." The words felt like lead on my fingers. "The governing church rescued me and cared for me until I ended up here."

The rest of that day was a void—an empty, gnawing gap in my mind that refused to be filled.

Billie nodded, her voice unusually soft. "It's alright. I understand." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "During your time with the church, did you encounter anything strange? Anything... unusual, like black magic?"

"No," I replied firmly, the knot in my chest tightening. "I've never seen or done black magic."

Her gaze lingered for a moment, unreadable, before she stood abruptly. "I need to prepare dinner. Excuse me," she said, her voice clipped, and walked away without another word.

I sat there, stunned and alone, the breeze no longer soothing. Were they suspicious of me? Did they think I was hiding something? I couldn't blame them—humans had done terrible things, and trust didn't come easy.

Still, I had no choice but to keep moving forward. My memories were fractured, my purpose a hazy question mark. But one thing was certain: I needed to remember.

What was my purpose?

And why did it feel like I was forgetting something important?

*************

Rath.

"Well, well, look who we have here—the newlywed in town. How's married life treating you, you creepy little bastard?" Alpha Castro sneered, strutting into my office like he owned the place.

"Don't start with me, you overgrown Chihuahua," I shot back, gripping his hand in a handshake so firm it probably cracked a knuckle or two.

"You didn't even bother to invite us to the wedding, let alone show off your human wife," he smirked, plopping into the chair opposite me like he was settling in for a roast session.

I tensed but masked it with indifference. If they knew the truth—that she couldn't speak and would be deemed "defective" in their eyes—they'd turn her into a punchline for months. But honestly? Their opinions mattered about as much as a soggy napkin.

He slid a matte black card tied with a golden ribbon across my desk. It looked like a cross between a wedding invite and a ransom note.

"A wedding invite? You're marrying Sheila?" I arched a brow, trying to sound interested instead of horrified.

He grinned, puffing up like a rooster on parade. "Yup. And you're invited. Maybe this'll finally be the perfect occasion for us to meet your elusive wife, since you were too stingy to invite us to your ceremony."

"I'll bring her," I replied, my voice laced with reluctance.

"My fiancée's organizing an engagement party for the ladies. Perhaps your wife should attend—unless, of course, you're keeping her locked up like some werewolf Rapunzel," he added, the smirk on his face practically begging me to throw something at him.

I grabbed the invitation and tossed it into my drawer with all the enthusiasm of someone filing their taxes. "I'll make sure she's at your fiancée's little tea party," I muttered.

Castro let out a belly laugh. "Tea party? Sheila's going to love hearing that. You know she's planning a full-blown alpha wives lunch, right? Don't you have a picture of your wife? Or is she that much of a mystery?"

Oh, right. A picture. Like a normal husband would have. Except instead of thinking about framed photos or selfies, my brain unhelpfully replayed the scene of her blood doing... whatever the hell that was on my sheets.

"I need to work, so shoo!" I snapped, waving him off like an annoying fly.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Alright, alright! But don't think you've dodged the wife reveal forever, buddy. See you at the party!"

With that, he sauntered out, leaving me wondering how I was going to survive an entire evening of his fiancée's "not a tea party" gala—and the inevitable disaster of bringing my wife into the mix.

---

I shut the door behind me as I stepped into my manor, feeling the day's chaos wrap around me like an ill-fitting cloak.

"Welcome home, sir," Billie greeted with her usual bow, ever the picture of composure.

"Thanks. Where's the human?" I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"She's in the library, sir," Billie replied smoothly.

Of course, she was. Probably plotting her next act of domestic terrorism. That little menace had turned my morning into a circus, throwing a tantrum that ended with my best shirt in shreds. And yet, there was something else gnawing at me—her mind was a locked vault. It wasn't just strange—it was impossible. She didn't even know I could read minds, so how was she pulling this off?

"Did you find anything that explains what was on the sheets?" I asked, hoping for answers that didn't involve black magic or some cosmic joke.

"No, sir," Billie said, her tone clipped and professional. "She claims to remember nothing about the mass suicide. As for the sheet, the symbol disappeared shortly after it appeared, as though it was never there. It's... unusual, to say the least."

Great. Just what I needed—mystical disappearing symbols on top of everything else. "So, nothing concrete," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We'll leave it for now. But keep watching her. I don't want any surprises."

"Yes, sir," Billie replied, her poker face so flawless she could've made a killing in Vegas.

I nodded curtly, already planning my next move. Watching her wasn't enough. If this human was going to keep me on my toes, I might as well invest in a better pair of shoes.