Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Anne
The photograph stays in my hand the whole way back to my cubicle. I don’t look at it again. I can’t. Every time my thumb brushes the edge, I feel the small crack in the paper. My hand clenches around it; it crumples, but I don’t care.
I sink into my chair without really seeing the desk, and for a moment, I just sit there, staring at nothing. Gradually, my grip loosens, and the crushed photo drops onto my keyboard with a soft tap. I leave it there.
“Whoever you think you remember, that isn’t me anymore.”
The words he said ring in my head. I press my fingers to my temples, staring at my computer screen. Several notifications pop up, but I ignore all of them.
It’s my phone that finally draws my attention. Sienna has texted the group chat with me and Violet.
You guys want to try out the new café down the street after work?
I almost say no, but if I don’t talk about this knot in my chest, I may actually explode.
Yes. I need you guys.
Sienna replies almost instantly.
You okay?
Violet’s dots appear for a brief moment before her reply comes in.
I’ll be there. And yeah, you okay, Anne?
I reply with a thumbs up emoji that feels like a lie.
The rest of the day floats by in fragments.
I answer emails without reading them properly.
Someone passes by—Derek, maybe—and tells a joke that I don’t bother to listen to.
The tight smile and nod I manage make my face feel borrowed.
By the time I leave the office, the sun has dropped low, throwing long, gold reflections from the glass building over the sidewalk.
I keep my head down and walk over to the café on Elm.
My friends are already here when I walk in, sitting next to each other in the corner booth by a window that looks out on the quiet street. They are both on the side facing the front door, and they look up when the bell jingles. I walk over and slide in across from them.
Sienna’s smile falters the second she sees my face. She reaches over the table, her fingers brushing the back of my hand. “Hey.”
“Hey.” My voice comes out thinner than I want it to.
Violet leans forward, a steaming mug in her hands. “You look like you’ve been through hell. What happened?”
I open my mouth, but it closes immediately, and I shut my eyes as I take a deep breath. The words feel too big, but I manage to force them out.
“It’s Kain.”
Violet glances between Sienna and me, confused. “The new head of security? What about him?”
Sienna looks at me, waiting for permission. I nod once.
She quickly fills Violet in. “Anne knows him. From before.” She hesitates, then says it plainly. “They were fated mates.”
Violet’s eyes go wide. Her mug clinks against the table as she sets it down a bit too fast. “Wait. The guy you told us about? I thought you said he died!”
I nod. My throat is tight as I speak. “Yeah. After all these years, he just…walked into the conference room yesterday. Alive.”
Violet’s hand flies to her mouth. The shock soon wears off, and her eyes start to shine brightly. “This is fantastic news, Anne!”
The hopeful look on her face makes my chest ache worse. I shake my head slowly. “He doesn’t remember me.”
Violet’s excitement dies instantly. “What?”
“He says he has amnesia.” I pause, trying to steady myself because saying these words out loud feels like swallowing a terrible pill.
“I went to his office yesterday. I tried to speak with him, but he had no clue who I was. Then, this morning, he told me he was in an accident and woke up in a hospital with no memories. Everything from before that day is just…gone. He doesn’t remember that part of his life. He doesn’t remember me.”
Violet’s expression grows somber. She sits back, her brows knitting together. Sienna’s hand squeezes mine, and for several minutes, we all just sit there. No one speaks, because what is there to say? How would anyone know what to say in a situation like this?
I finally break the silence. “Every year, I’d go and lay flowers at the memorial site for him. And it would haunt me, the thought that he died in that war. But now”—my voice cracks—“finding out that he woke up one day…surrounded by strangers…not knowing who he is…”
“That’s why he never came back,” Violet says, her voice low, thoughtful. “He must’ve had no memory of where he came from. He didn’t remember he had a home to come back to.”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I keep thinking how awful that must have been. Not knowing where to go. Not knowing you had people waiting for you, missing you. I should feel sorry for him. I do feel sorry for him. But mostly, I just feel…”
The sentence dies in my mouth.
Sienna squeezes my hand again. Her palm is warm. “Robbed?”
“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely.
Violet exhales slowly. “Did he say anything about how it happened? The accident?”
“No. And he was clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it again. He told me he isn’t the person I remember anymore.”
Sienna’s jaw flexes. “That’s cold.”
“It’s not cold if it’s true,” I reply tiredly. “To him, I’m just a stranger making a fuss about a life that’s been erased from his mind.”
Violet tilts her head. “But what about the bond? Didn’t you say you were fated mates?”
I look up at her.
“The mate bond,” she continues. “Even if his human mind forgot, his wolf shouldn’t have. You felt it yesterday, right? When he walked into the conference room. Did you still feel drawn to him like you did before?”
My pulse starts racing, and my wolf perks up as if she wants to answer the question herself. “I felt it so strongly, I almost couldn’t breathe.”
“Exactly.” Violet leans in again. “Even when my wolf was completely suppressed, I wanted Darius. There was still this force drawing me to him. I don’t think the mate bond cares about memory. It’s deeper than that.”
Like a match being struck, hope sparks immediately in my chest. “You think he might still feel it?” I ask, a glimmer of optimism etching itself into my voice.
“I think it’s worth asking him,” she says. “Carefully, of course. Gently. But yes, I think it’s possible.”
“You deserve to know. One way or the other,” Sienna adds.
I let out a shaky breath. “I’ll try.”
We sit with that idea for a while. The café hums around us with clinking cups, low conversation, and the hiss of the espresso machine.
Sienna orders me chamomile tea, saying it always helps her when she’s stressed out.
I’m still taking little sips when Violet’s phone buzzes on the table.
She glances at the screen, frowns, then answers.
“Yes?” A pause. Her shoulders stiffen slightly. “They’re here already? I thought they weren’t due to arrive until tomorrow.” There’s another, longer pause. “No, I’ll come now. Tell them I’m on my way.”
She ends the call and looks at us apologetically. “The leaders of two neighboring packs just got here. They want to meet tonight instead of waiting until the scheduled time tomorrow.”
Sienna waves a hand. “Go. Luna duty calls.”
Violet stands and pulls on her coat. Then, she leans down and hugs me tightly. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She squeezes my shoulder, smiles at Sienna, and hurries out. The bell jingles behind her.
My friend has given me some hope, fragile as it is. I plan to cling to it for as long as I can.
The next morning, I drive the familiar route to headquarters. Two blocks from the building, I pull into the small lot beside the deli I’ve stopped at nearly every weekday for years.
“Morning, Anne,” the guy behind the register says as I step up to the counter. “The usual?”
“Yup. Roast turkey on rye, please. To go.”
He nods, already reaching for the bread. In a flash, he’s done. He wraps up the sandwich and slides it over to me in a paper bag.
I hand him my card and sign the receipt, but as I turn to leave, my foot catches for half a second on the worn threshold.
A memory comes to my mind, one that pulls my chest tight, and before I know it, I turn back.
“Actually,” I say, my voice quieter, “I’ll have one more. Roast beef on sourdough. Extra horseradish. And a side of pickles.”
“Coming right up.”
He works fast as I stand there with my hands in my pockets, staring at the chalkboard menu without reading it.
When he’s finished, I pay the man, take both bags, push through the door, and walk to my car.
The morning air feels sharper now. I set the sandwiches on the passenger seat, start the engine, and drive the last two blocks to the office.
In my cubicle, from the moment I sit down, all I can do is keep glancing at the clock while my fingers hover uselessly over the mouse. The sandwich bags sit untouched beside the keyboard, the paper crinkling faintly every time I brush against one of them.
It doesn’t take long before the restlessness wins. I push back from my desk, pick up the bags, and take the elevator up to Kain’s office before I can change my mind again.
My hand is surprisingly steady when I knock on his door.
“Come in.”
Kain stands at the window, arms crossed, looking out at the parking lot.
He turns when he hears me enter, and for a few seconds, we just stand there, staring at each other.
His scent fills my nostrils, and I bite my lip to control my nerves.
My wolf whimpers at being so close to him yet denied access. Does he feel this, too?
“Ms. Donaldson?” Kain’s questioning tone brings me back to the present.
Swallowing, I lift the paper bags. “I brought food. I thought maybe we could talk for five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
His eyes linger on me for a long moment, then he nods slightly.
I close the door behind me and set the bags on the edge of his desk.
“I wanted to apologize,” I start. “For yesterday. For coming at you like that. I’m sure it must have been difficult having a stranger act so familiarly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
He exhales through his nose. “It’s alright.”
I peek into both bags and slide the one with the roast beef sandwich toward him. “It’s your—It was your favorite. You probably don’t remember, but I just…thought I could bring a peace offering.”
He looks at the sandwich, then at me, and I catch an unreadable flicker in his eyes for only a split second before it’s gone.
“Thank you,” he says stiffly.
I press my lips together. He used to be so excited to eat one of these. Now, he stares at the sandwich with disinterest. Is my Kain really no longer in there?
“Is there anything else, Ms. Donaldson?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you something,” I say.
He pauses, his eyes becoming narrow and guarded.
I force myself to look into those eyes. “Before you…went away, you and I found out we were fated mates.” I exhale as the words leave my lips.
His eyes stay on me, his lips slightly parted.
I continue. “I felt the bond again yesterday. The second you walked into that conference room, my wolf recognized you. I know you said your memories are gone, but…Do you feel anything? Toward me? Even a little?”
Silence stretches between us, and I’m afraid he won’t answer, but he eventually speaks, his voice low and even. “Fated mates,” he says. “I…I’m sorry to hear that.”
My heart slams in my chest. What does he mean?
“Ms. Donaldson, the accident didn’t only take my memories, it subdued part of my wolf. I don’t feel anything toward you.” He pauses, his expression unruffled. “I’m sorry.”
The words land like stones in still water, sending ripples of pain through my entire chest as the last of my hope is cruelly snuffed. My eyes sting with tears, but I blink away the one threatening to fall.
“You don’t feel anything at all.” It’s not a question, but his answer is final.
“No. Nothing.”
I manage a nod as my fingers fist in the fabric of my skirt.
Kain’s voice takes on an almost sympathetic quality. “I understand this is difficult for you. I know fated mates are important. But the man you’re looking for, the one who felt that bond…he’s gone. I’m not him. And I can’t be who you want me to be.”
He pities me. The thought makes me steel myself, determined not to look like a desperate fool any longer.
“Thank you,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “For your honesty.”
He nods.
I step away from the desk, even though my legs feel wooden. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Ms. Donaldson.”
I pause at the door with my back to him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. And those words come out so intently, so sincerely, that they burn into my soul. My eyes sting even harder, but I squeeze them shut. I don’t turn around; I don’t even say anything in reply. I just nod my head and walk out.
The door closes behind me with a soft click. The hallway stretches ahead, empty. My footsteps echo distantly, muffled, as if it is someone else who is walking, far away from here.
That’s it. He is truly gone.