Chapter 74
LIZA
Iwas lost in the depths of my dreams. The little boy’s laughter echoed through the air.
The dream was more vivid than any other I’d had before.
The whole atmosphere seemed to be pulsating with life.
We were both young. Again, I couldn’t have been more than three years old, yet there was a familiarity that tugged at my heart.
We were tucked away within an elaborate pillow fort, our own secret hideout.
The walls were constructed from what seemed like a hundred pillows, stacked high, and teetering precariously.
Stuffed animals served as guards, keeping watch over the entrance, their button eyes glinting in the dim light.
Twinkling fairy lights hung overhead, casting soft shadows across the room, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow.
As I looked around, taking in every detail, the blond-haired boy grinned at me.
There was something about him—something that filled me with warmth and affection.
I searched through the recesses of my memories, but I simply couldn’t place him.
Even so, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, connected in some inexplicable way.
“Come on, let’s explore,” he said excitedly, crawling deeper into the fort. I followed closely behind, entranced by the positive energy radiating from him.
We navigated our way through the labyrinth of cushions and blankets, giggling as we discovered hidden treasures: an old toy, a forgotten book, a half-eaten cookie. It seemed like we could spend an eternity nestled within our fortress, hidden from the outside world.
A voice from downstairs interrupted our play time, pulling us out of our adventure. “Time for tea, you two.”
The boy glanced toward the entrance, then back at me, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Five more minutes?” he pleaded, a twinkle in his eye.
I covered my mouth and giggled, watching as the boy raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“All right, five more minutes.”
The entire interaction and location was magical, but as much as I tried to hold on to that moment, the dream slipped through my fingers like water, leaving me with nothing but fragments and echoes of what had been.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding, sweat drenching my nightclothes, plastering my hair to my forehead.
As I gasped for breath, I felt wetness on my cheek.
I’d been crying. With mounting frustration, I tried to grasp onto the fleeting memory of the boy’s face.
What had he looked like? Blond hair that was almost white, and blue eyes.
Beyond those two features, the details were already slipping away into the murky depths of my subconscious.
I needed to understand why this boy was haunting my dreams. I glanced over at Ty, who was sleeping soundly beside me. Not wanting to disturb him, I tiptoed across the room to my desk, pulling open the bottom drawer and retrieving the packet tucked in the back.
As I ran my fingers over the worn folder, memories of the Wylde pack—the pack I had been born into—surfaced, and tears spilled from my eyes again.
The pack I was now part of had brutally murdered my pack, my family.
Thoughts of the lives lost, those who never got a chance to live out their full potential, haunted me every day.
With shaky hands, I pulled out the pack registrar and began scanning the list of names, searching for any clue that might reveal the identity of the mysterious boy.
My gaze flicked over the names, lingering on boys born around the same time as me.
Could one of them be the boy from my dreams? And if so, what did that mean?
Then I remembered. Some families had moved away before the pack’s destruction, fleeing Castro’s intense bullying tactics. Even at a young age, he’d been a terror. What if they were still out there, hiding under assumed names and keeping their true identities a secret?
“What are you doing up?” Ty’s sleepy voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked over to see him rubbing his eyes, the clock on the nightstand casting its digital glow across his face.
“Three in the morning? Really, Liza?” he mumbled as he sat up. “You’ve barely slept. What are you looking at?”
I hesitated, then remembered his plea not to keep things from him again. Yes, this wasn’t about my safety, but Ty was my mate, my partner. I’d told him the other morning I’d had a dream, so he probably already had an inkling that my odd dreams had returned.
I stood from the desk, carrying the packet with me, and took a seat next to Ty on the bed. “I’ve been having a recurring dream about a little boy who looks a lot like Castro.”
He gaped at me, the slightest mention of Castro setting him on alert.
“It’s not Castro,” I reassured him when alarm flashed in his eyes. “This boy is different. Kind, playful… I can’t explain it, but I know these are more than just dreams.”
Ty leaned back against the headboard and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, we both know your dreams about your past haven’t exactly been just dreams.”
I nodded. “They’ve always been memories I’ve repressed, and this time it’s about a boy I can’t quite place.
Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m dreaming about him.
I wish I could remember who he was and why we were allowed to play together so much.
I’m not much more than three, maybe four years old in my dreams. Either way, the dreams about him are becoming a regular occurrence. ”
Ty grabbed his side and feigned injury. “Do you play-wrestle by any chance? That might explain why I wake up with bruised ribs each morning.”
“Oh, please.” I chuckled and swatted at him. “You could always sleep on the couch if it bothers you.”
“Never.” Ty pulled me close and kissed me gently. “So, what are we going to do about these dreams?”
I held up the packet. “I want to find the surviving kids from the Wylde pack. Several families moved away to avoid Castro. They have to still be out there somewhere.”
Ty regarded me thoughtfully, the smile fading from his face as he considered my words. He took the packet from me, flipping through the pages. “If others got away from Castro, we should do everything we can to find them. Those families were extremely lucky to get out when they did.”
The mood in the room quickly turned somber. Neither of us spoke, but I knew we were both thinking about the slaughter of my pack.
Ty pulled me close again, brushing his lips tenderly over my forehead. “Consider it done. Now, can we get some more sleep?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” My throat was dry from all the crying, so I drank some water in bathroom and glanced at the mirror.
My reflection showed a weary woman with wild hair who needed sleep more than anything else.
I looked like I’d aged a decade. With a sigh, I crawled back into bed, my mind buzzing with possibilities and questions.
Who was the boy from my dreams? Were there other survivors from my pack out there, hiding from Castro’s wrath? The answers seemed just out of reach, like fragments of a puzzle scattered across time.
It took a while for my brain to settle down. I didn’t think I’d sleep, and I prepared to wait for the sun. Surprisingly, when the dreaded alarm clock went off, I woke up. I’d fallen back into a dreamless slumber and gotten a few more hours of sleep, after all.
“Ugh, do I have to?” I groaned as I reluctantly threw off the covers.
Today would be more than a little busy. I had four interviews for an assistant chef and driver scheduled.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t be put off by the crowds at the gate.
I dragged myself out of bed, trying to shake off the lingering tendrils of sleep that clung to my body.
At least I didn’t have to drive across town for the interviews.
Given the omega insanity currently taking over Presley Acres, Ty didn’t think it was safe for me to go into the office in town.
Instead, we’d decided to hold the interviews at the estate, where we had more control over security and were in a position to screen candidates at the gate before they were allowed inside. We couldn’t be too careful these days.
The hot water soothed my aching neck. I must’ve slept weird because it hurt to turn my head to the left.
The scent of coconut clung to the steam as I lathered up with a new organic shampoo I’d purchased at the farmer’s market before it was overrun with crazy tourists.
Working the shampoo into my scalp, I focused on my goal for the day.
I’d chosen candidates with some experience who were also looking to grow and learn.
I loved my career, and I’d always wanted to teach others the ropes.
My busy schedule hadn’t allowed that, so I looked at the new hires as living out part of that dream of having my own apprentice.
After drying my hair, I put on some lip gloss and mascara, then dressed in something casually professional. My stomach growled. You’d think as a chef I wouldn’t need reminding that food was a priority.
“Time to find sustenance,” I muttered to myself, making my way to the kitchen. To my delight, there was a pastry tray waiting on the counter. The chef must have left it for me. I grabbed a bagel and coffee, grateful for small mercies and kitchen staff.
“Okay. Interviews. Let’s do this,” I said, psyching myself up as I carried my breakfast into my new office.
Two quick knocks rapped at the door.
“Come in,” I called, taking a small bite of my bagel slathered with cream cheese.
“Your first interviewee has arrived, ma’am,” the staff member informed me.
Nodding for her to lead them in, I pulled out my notebook and got ready to meet Alex.
“Hi there. Good morning. I’m Liza,. You must be Alex Strand. Sorry for the gate gestapo. I’m afraid it’s a necessary evil at the moment.” I extended my hand, offering a warm smile. “Tell me about your experience and what led you to apply for this cooking position.”