Chapter 57: CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN | MEMORIES

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN | MEMORIES

RONAN

It was far past midnight. The kind of time where the night feels too quiet, like it’s holding its breath. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake, even though my body begged for rest. Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, Aspen was there. Her voice. Her eyes. That kiss.

Damn it.

My chest tightened just thinking about it, my heart skipping like it had forgotten how to beat properly. I turned on the bed once, then again, groaning under my breath. I hated how one moment could mess me up this badly. I shut my eyes harder, breathing in, breathing out, forcing calm that wouldn’t come.

Then I heard it.

At first, it was faint and uneven. Like broken words swallowed by fear. My eyes snapped open instantly. I sat up, every sense alert. The sound came again this time, soft, shaky whispers.

I turned toward Aspen’s bed, and my heart dropped.

She was moving restlessly, her body twisting slightly, hands raised in front of her like she was begging someone she couldn’t see. Her face was tight with fear, lips trembling.

“No,” she whispered. “Please… please don’t kill me.”

That was all it took.

I was out of my bed before my brain caught up.

“Aspen,” I called softly, already kneeling beside her. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

She didn’t hear me. Her hands curled into fists, then opened again like she was pleading for mercy. “Please leave me alone,” she cried, her voice cracking. “Please.”

Something cold settled deep in my chest.

I didn’t think so. I just pulled her into my arms, holding her close. “It’s fine,” I said, again and again. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Her body jerked suddenly. She gasped, eyes flying open, panic flashing raw and wild before she focused on me. The moment she realized it was me, she grabbed onto me tightly, arms locking around my neck like letting go meant falling apart.

“It’s fine,” I repeated, pressing her head to my chest. “I’m here.”

Her breathing was uneven, shaky against my skin. “Someone was trying to kill me,” she whispered. “We were two.”

My brows furrowed. “Two?”

“We’re two,” she said again, her voice barely holding together. “There were two of me.”

I didn’t understand what she meant. Not fully. But I didn’t ask. I just held her tighter, grounding her trembling body with mine. Her fingers dug into my shirt like she needed proof that this was real, that I was real.

“It’s okay,” I murmured. “Whatever it was, it’s over now.”

She nodded weakly against my chest, though I wasn’t sure she believed it. Hell, I wasn’t sure I did either. But right then, understanding didn’t matter. Being there did.

She whispered it again, softer this time. “There were two of me.”

I tightened my arms around her, my eyes drifting to the dark corners of the room. A strange unease settled deep in my bones. Whatever chased her in her dreams wasn’t just fear. I knew it deep in my heart.

I held her there for a while, letting her trembles settle against my chest. She eventually relaxed, though her grip on me didn’t loosen.

When I finally felt her breathing even out, I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wet but calmer, blinking against the dim light.

“Come on,” I said quietly. “I’ll make you something to drink. Coffee, quick, hot.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. I stood, keeping my movements deliberate so I wouldn’t startle her again. She followed me silently, barefoot on the cold floor, shoulders tense. I didn’t rush her, didn’t push words into the silence. I filled a cup, the aroma sharp and bitter, but it seemed to soothe her somehow.

I handed it over, and she took it with trembling hands. I stayed close, leaning against the counter, watching her sip slowly. The steam curled up between us, like a fragile shield against the darkness outside the door.

“The dream…” she started, but I cut in.

“You can talk,” I murmured, though I didn’t press. “But not now. Not like this. We’ll talk tomorrow, when your mind’s quieter.”

She looked up at me then, lips twitching into a small smile. “I’ll be fine,” she said, voice low but steady. I believed her, mostly because she wanted me to.

For a long while, nothing more was said. The room was still except for the quiet sip of her coffee. I wanted to ask, to press, but I didn’t. I just let her rest there, watching, waiting, giving her space that didn’t feel empty.

Then she set the cup down and shifted on the bed, looking at me differently. Hesitant, as if the next words might hurt her to speak.

“I… I want to know my family background,” she said finally.

I froze, the words landing like stones in my chest.

“What?” My voice was softer than intended, disbelief tangled with something else I couldn’t name.

“My family,” she repeated, eyes wide, searching mine like I held the truth she’d been missing her entire life. “I want to know… who they were, where I came from. Everything.”

What she just said hit me harder than I expected. I must have looked stunned because she frowned slightly, like she was already bracing for disappointment. I exhaled slowly and sat beside her.

“Don’t worry,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We’ll work on it. Whatever you want to know, we’ll take it one step at a time.”

She nodded, but it didn’t ease the tightness in her face. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. “It feels like my past is hunting me,” she admitted quietly. “Like something is chasing me, but I can’t remember what it is. Every time I try, my head just… goes blank.”

That sent a chill through me. I opened my mouth to respond, but she continued before I could.

“I need to see Alpha Darius.”

My head snapped up. “No,” I said immediately, sharper than I intended. “That’s not happening.”

She blinked, startled. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous,” I replied, standing now, pacing a little. “Darius doesn’t just give answers. He opens doors that shouldn’t be opened. And once you step into his space, you don’t control what comes out. And not to talk about the fact that he’s currently hunting for you. That’s a risky step, Aspen.”

She stood too, her eyes hardening. “This is about me, Ronan. My life. My memories. I don’t care how dangerous it is.”

“I do,” I shot back. “Too much.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence thick and heavy between us. Then she shook her head, like she’d already made up her mind.

“I’m tired,” she said flatly.

She walked past me and lay back on her bed, turning her face away. I stayed where I was, feeling helpless, watching her retreat into herself.