Chapter 152: Goo-goo Gaa-gaa
Ivy’s POV
The next few days were… bizarre, if you ask me.
Not in the typical there’s-a-wolf-inside-me-and-my-emotions-trigger-furniture-destruction kind of bizarre…though that was happening too…but in a slow, domestic, everything-is-normal-but-not-really kind of way.
The maid recovered. She’d been sedated and a bit shaky when she finally spoke, but her story? Let’s just say it took some serious willpower not to let Nyxara claw her face off.
Apparently, she met the man at the subway. Said he promised her great sex if she helped sedate me. Claimed it was just so her screams wouldn’t alert anyone and get her fired…which, okay, I almost pitied her… until she admitted she had no idea he planned something dangerous.
No idea? Girl, you slipped something in my tea based on promises of orgasms?
Even Nyxara was stunned into silence.
My father and Uncle Marcus didn’t say a word the entire time she spoke. But from the hard lines on their faces, the flared nostrils, the way their fists clenched at their sides…I knew they recognized the man.
Apparently, I knew him once.
Obviously, I don’t remember him— But they warned me.
Told me to be careful. Told me to run if I ever saw him again.
Run?
What do they take me for—
a scared little girl?
Some trembling thing that flees at the first shadow?
No.
If I ever see him again,
I won’t scream. I won’t run.
He’s not walking away from that encounter.
He’s leaving in a body bag.
Tied. Chained.
Dragged to the ocean like the worthless monster he is—
weighted down with a rock necklace,
his limbs twisted in angles the human body was never meant to bend.
While that threat simmered quietly in my soul, Daniel decided it was time for "Basic Werewolf Training." His words. Not mine.
Which involved a lot of growling, running, shifting, and trying not to claw him open every time he said “Come on, pup, even toddlers shift better than you.”
Meanwhile, Nyxara kept trying to accidentally maim him during training. One time she almost bit off his left ear and claimed it was “reflex.” He didn’t believe her. I did.
Dad and Uncle Marcus, on the other hand, had made it their mission to help me recover my memories. And talk.
And it’s been… chaotic.
Yesterday, for example, they brought in an old record player and started playing my supposed favorite childhood song…some weird folk remix of Beyoncé’s Halo. Then they attempted a dance-off. A full-blown, limbs-flailing, hip-popping, grand finale dance-off in the middle of the hallway.
It ended with Uncle Marcus slipping on a rug and dragging Dad down with him like two synchronized sacks of potatoes. A loud thud echoed across the estate.
A maid dropped her tray. Another shrieked. And I… Well, I didn’t remember anything. Except that I definitely love these buffoons. Memories or not.
I still couldn’t talk. Not properly.
They tried teaching me to repeat simple words.
“Say apple.”
“Say fire.”
“Say Marcus is handsome.”
I’d stare into the mirror, mouth open, breath trembling. The words would hover at the back of my throat like a bird unsure of flight—but never come out.
‘What is wrong with us?’
“Nothing,” Nyxara said smugly inside me. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose. Maybe you just like torturing everyone around you. You dramatic little minx.”
How dare she?
I refused to speak to her for two whole days.
We became like two roommates in a silent war…passing each other in the halls of my mind with narrowed eyes and heavy sighs.
Today seemed less-chaotic compared to the last couple of days. I was in my room, curled up in a blanket burrito, watching back-to-back episodes of Crash Landing On You.
“Pfft. This guy’s not even hot,” Nyxara mumbled one night, though her ears perked up when the male lead did something cute. I could literally feel her tail twitch at the back of my mind.
‘Wait—is that Dad?’ She suddenly gasped, ears shooting up. ‘I smell panic.’
I was already sprinting.
The scent hit me on the stairs—dust, wood, adrenaline.
I reached the top, bolting toward the balcony when I heard a voice scream, “Help! Somebody help!”
And then I saw him.
My father.
Dangling by one arm off the balcony’s side, his legs swinging wildly above a teetering aluminum ladder. The ladder was clearly not made for men built like walking tanks.
“Dad!” I screamed.
The sound startled even me. My voice was hoarse, rusted, like a melody half-forgotten. It didn’t sound like mine…it sounded like someone else’s.
Old. Raw. Tired.
Richard looked up…and smiled like a complete idiot. “Did y’all hear that?! She said Dada!”
Wait, he was standing on a ladder?! Why didn’t I see that?!
Laughter exploded behind him.
Uncle Marcus and Daniel were on the balcony floor, clutching their sides, wheezing like overgrown hyenas. Marcus wheezed, “Oh my God. She said dada.”
“Twenty-seven,” Daniel cackled. “She’s twenty-seven and just said her first word!”
I groaned. Inside and out.
I tried to curse Daniel out. I tried to call him a toad-faced flea magnet.
But nothing else came out.
Nyxara, ever the menace, chuckled in my head. “See? You’re doing this on purpose.”
I rolled my eyes and stomped away before I could hurl someone…or something…off the actual balcony.
Ten minutes later, the Three Stooges came bursting into my room like boyband rejects.
Richard looked like he’d just won the lottery. “Say it again!” he beamed. “Please, princess. Say ‘dada’ again!”
“No!” I wanted to yell. I said Dad. Not Dada. Not some goo-goo gaa-gaa first word.
Uncle Marcus grinned. “Come on. Maybe say my name next? Marcus is cool. Marcus is fun.”
Daniel snorted. “Nah. She’s got taste. Try saying Danny. Or Daddy. No…wait…that could be weird—”
I slammed a pillow over my face and screamed into it.
They were enjoying this too much.
“Dannyyyyyy,” Daniel drawled in a fake baby voice. “Say it with me. Dan-Neeeee. Or how about ‘My Favorite Guardian’? You know, something true.”
I launched another pillow.
It missed.
Barely.
“I think we should just keep annoying her until she yells something,” Marcus said.
“That is our entire plan,” Daniel added.
But before they could taunt me again, Rosa stormed in, wielding a spatula like the mighty sword of justice.
“¡Fuera! Out!” she barked.
They froze.
“You three, out of her room! Let her rest! ¿Están locos?” (Are you all crazy?)
They scrambled for the door like oversized toddlers caught stealing cookies.
Rosa turned to me, gently fixed the blanket over my shoulders, and closed the door with a dramatic, satisfying click.
The silence was bliss.
Maybe I didn’t need the memories.
I had enough to know who my people were.
Even if they were absolute chaos.
“Hey,” Nyxara finally said in my mind, her tone soft.
“What?” I muttered mentally, not bothering to hide the exasperation. “I’m still not talking to you.”
“Just hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“Let’s take a trip into the city,” she whispered like a mischievous devil. “For a little… personal discovery.”
“You know Father won’t let me leave. Daniel will have to tag along. And you’ll try to maim him again.”
“Who said we need to tell them?” she purred. “We can just… sneak out.”
A smirk crept across my lips before I could stop it.
Was it a terrible idea?
Absolutely.
But would it be fun?
Hell yes.