Emma's POV
Day seven and I still can't remember anything.
The neurologist has me looking at images on a computer screen. Photographs of places I've supposedly been. A stone fortress surrounded by mountains. A training ground filled with people in fighting positions. A bedroom with a fireplace and a view of snow-covered peaks.
None of it triggers anything.
"Take your time," Dr. Hayes says gently. She's used to watching me fail by now.
I close my eyes and try to force the memories. I concentrate so hard my head starts pounding again. When I open my eyes, the only thing I remember is the pain.
"It's not working," I tell her.
"Memory doesn't work like a switch," Dr. Hayes explains. "You can't force it. Your brain heals at its own pace."
But what if I don't want to heal. What if I want to stay broken because the broken version of me doesn't have to live a life I don't understand.
Liam arrives that afternoon with flowers.
They're white roses. Apparently they're my favorite. He tells me this like it's important information. Like knowing my favorite flower will somehow trigger recognition. It doesn't. The roses smell nice but they feel like they belong in someone else's hospital room.
"How are you feeling today," Liam asks. He asks this every single day and every single day I give him the same answer.
"Lost," I say.
He pulls a chair next to my bed. He's careful now. He never sits too close. He never touches me unless I ask. It's like he's learned his lesson from that first night when I pushed him away.
"I brought something," he says. He pulls out a leather journal from his jacket. "I've been writing things down. Stories. Things I thought might help you remember."
I don't want to read it but I let him open it anyway.
The first page is about our first meeting. Liam writes about seeing me across a room at some treaty thing. He says he knew immediately. His words are intense. Raw. He talks about the mate bond like it's something magical. Something that changed everything.
I read about myself falling in love with him. About choosing to leave my village and become Luna of his pack. About three years of building a life together at a place called Frost Peak.
The journal makes it sound beautiful. It makes it sound like the kind of love people write stories about.
But when I finish reading, all I feel is nothing.
"This woman you're describing," I say carefully. "This Luna. Does she sound happy to you."
Liam hesitates. It's a tiny pause but I catch it.
"She was happy," he says finally.
"Was. Past tense."
"I meant she is happy. She will be happy again when she remembers."
I hand the journal back to him. His hands shake slightly when he takes it.
"Tell me about Frost Peak," I say. "Not the romance. Not the love story. Just tell me what it's like."
Liam settles back in his chair. "It's a fortress in the northern mountains. Built centuries ago to protect the pack. The winters are long. The walls are stone. The rooms are cold."
Cold. That word sits with me.
"Did I like it there," I ask.
He takes too long to answer. That's answer enough.
"You grew into it," he says finally. "You became a great Luna. People respected you. You trained warriors. You helped run the pack."
But did you let me choose that or did you demand it. I don't ask this out loud because something about the way he's looking at me says he wouldn't like that question.
"What about my life before," I ask instead. "Before the treaty meeting. Before you."
Liam closes the journal carefully. "You lived in a village called Willowbrook. With your sister Grace. You worked at a bakery."
The moment he says it, something shifts. Willowbrook. The bakery. Grace.
Those words land different than all his stories about Frost Peak and Luna duties and mate bonds. Those words feel real.
"Tell me about Willowbrook," I say.
"It's small," Liam says simply. "Quiet. Nothing like Frost Peak."
"Tell me anyway."
So he does. He tells me about the village nestled between forests. About the bakery on Main Street. About my sister Grace who raised me after my parents died. About a life that was simple and safe and small.
With each word, something awakens in my chest. Not the mate bond. Something else. Recognition. Home.
"I remember that," I whisper.
For the first time since I woke up, something clicks. I remember the smell of fresh bread. I remember Grace's laugh. I remember the feeling of knowing everyone in the village by name. I remember not being special. Not being important. Just being Emma.
Liam's face shifts when he hears this. There's something like pain in his expression.
Over the next week, he keeps coming back. He keeps telling me stories. But now he's trying to fill in the gaps between Willowbrook and everything I don't remember. He's racing against time because he can feel it. He can feel me drifting away from the life he built for me.
By day fourteen, I know what I want.
When Liam arrives in the afternoon, I'm sitting up in bed waiting for him. My head still hurts but it's getting better. The doctors say I can be discharged soon.
"I want to go home," I tell him.
Something lights up in his eyes. Hope. Relief. He thinks I mean Frost Peak.
"Of course," he says. "We'll arrange transport. Tyler is ready to pick us up whenever you're discharged."
"No," I say. The word comes out clear and sharp. "I want to go home to Willowbrook."
Liam stands up from the chair. His entire body goes rigid.
"That's not your home," he says quietly.
"It's the only home I remember," I counter. "That's the only life that feels real to me."
"You're not thinking clearly," he says. His voice has an edge to it now. The nice facade is slipping. "Your memories are damaged. Your mind is confused."
"Maybe," I agree. "But my gut isn't confused. And my gut is telling me that woman in your journal doesn't sound like me. She sounds like someone you wanted me to be."
Liam steps closer to the bed. His face is controlled but his eyes are furious.
"You are my mate," he says. Each word is deliberate. Heavy. "You belong at Frost Peak. You belong with me."
"I don't remember belonging to you," I say. "And I'm tired of feeling guilty about it."
"This is temporary," he insists. "Once your memories return, you'll understand. You'll come back."
"And if I don't want to," I ask. "If I get my memories back and realize I want Willowbrook instead of your fortress. What happens then."
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Liam's jaw clenches. When he speaks again, his voice is deadly quiet.
"Then I'll bring you back anyway," he says.
The words hang between us like a threat.
"You'll bring me back," I repeat. "Against my will."
"You're not thinking clearly enough to choose," Liam says. "When you're healed, when your memories return, then you can choose."
"And if I choose wrong."
He leans down until his face is inches from mine. His grey eyes are ice.
"There is no wrong choice," he says. "There's only me. There's only Frost Peak. There's only the life we built together. You'll see. You'll remember why you chose me. And you'll never want to leave again."
He straightens up and walks to the door. Before he leaves he turns back.
"Rest," he says. "Dr. Hayes will discharge you in three days. I'll have everything prepared."
The door closes behind him and I realize something that terrifies me more than anything else.
Liam isn't asking if I want to go to Frost Peak.
He's telling me I will.
And he sounds like a man who always gets what he wants.