Chapter 2 Chapter 2
MIRA
I gasped.
It wasn’t just a sound, it ripped out of me like a gunshot, like my lungs had never tasted air before. My head snapped up. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Where was I?
My skin stuck to the surface beneath me. It was cold, smooth. A desk. A fucking desk.
I was slumped over it like I’d passed out mid-task, drool drying at the corner of my mouth. My palms were sweaty. My breath came short. And the room—
The room was wrong.
Big windows with black velvet curtains. Tall bookshelves with old books. Polished floors. A chandelier above me throwing soft gold light.
I knew this place.
I shouldn’t know it, but I did.
This was Alpha Darius’s study.
The one Mama used to whisper about— clean it quick, don’t touch anything, don’t look twice. The one I used to scrub floors in when I was small and tired and six. Before they broke me. Before the hunt.
A sound.
I whipped my head toward it.
Three of them. Standing near the fireplace.
Zane. Luca. Jax.
Older. Taller. More refined in the face, like time had sharpened them instead of softening them. But I knew those faces. I’d know them even in the dark. Even through tears. Even in death.
Because they were the last thing I ever saw before the bullet tore through me.
Jax stood like a statue, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
Luca tilted his head slightly, brows drawn like he was trying to figure me out.
Zane took a slow step forward. His voice was soft, brows pulled tightly in concern. “You okay?”
I flinched.
Okay? I was dead. I died. I felt the cold rain soaking my clothes, the sharp sting of betrayal and fear. I died. How the hell was I back in this body? Why were they acting like they gave a damn?
I stumbled to my feet. The chair screeched across the floor, too loud, too sharp. My balance tilted and my knees buckled.
“What the hell…” I whispered as I backed away.
Zane reached for me and I flinched back.
“Don’t.”
It came out sharp. Too loud. My voice cracked. My chest tightened.
They froze.
I looked around again. Wild, searching. There had to be a catch. A trick. This couldn’t be real.
The desk.
The window.
The door.
The same one from years ago.
The one I used to peek out of when Mama let me tag along. The one that led into the hall that led to the kitchen. And then—
The mirror.
Right beside the bookshelf. Gilded frame. Too clean. I caught a glimpse of her.
Me.
My reflection.
But not me.
I staggered closer like I couldn’t help it, like I needed proof that I wasn’t hallucinating. That this wasn’t some twisted afterlife.
And there she was.
Big, hazel eyes wide and wild, like a cornered animal. Skin paler than I remembered. Lips parted. Cheeks hollowed like I hadn’t eaten in days.
But the body—
This wasn’t the one that bled out on the forest floor.
This one was untouched. Flawless. Hair fuller. Body fuller. Neck smooth. No scar from when they’d bitten me in the woods. Nothing.
“God,” I whispered, backing away from myself. “What is this?”
My body didn’t answer. But the pounding in my ears did. I turned back to the boys and they were still staring. Still quiet. Still confused.
They didn’t recognize me—not really. They saw a girl. A maid’s daughter. Maybe a childhood face they half-remembered. But not the thing they once hunted for sport.
I couldn’t breathe.
I ran.
Through the door, down the hall, past the marble tiles that once knew my bare feet, the air whipped past me as memories slammed into me so fast that I stumbled.
The rain. The fear. The pain in my chest.
“You run well, pet.”
“Go on. Let’s see how far you make it.”
Laughter. Their plaything.
They were the sons of Alpha Darius. Royals. And I’d been their favorite toy.
Until I died.
I ran harder.
The voices were behind me but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My breath burned. My legs ached. The hallways blurred.
The kitchen.
The back door.
The old path home.
Mama.
The word hit like a punch to the ribs. My legs moved before I could think. I tore through the trees, lungs burning, heart thundering like it already knew.
I didn’t care about the rain or the mud soaking my feet. I didn’t care about the way the world tilted under me like it wasn’t real. All I knew was the path. The scent of pine. The ache in my chest screaming one word.
Mom.
The cottage came into view. It smaller than I thought, like grief had shrunk it. The windows were dark. No smoke in the chimney. No light bleeding through the cracks.
My hands were shaking before I even touched the door. I pushed it open and it slammed into the wall with a hollow crack.
“Mom?”
No answer.
The air inside felt wrong. Still. Like the house was holding its breath.
I stepped in slowly, every part of me braced like it could feel that something was wrong.
“Mama—?”
And then I saw her.
On the floor.
Crushed into herself like she’d folded from the inside out. One arm slumped across her stomach. Her legs twisted. Her nightgown stained with blood.
“Mom!”
I dropped so fast my knees cracked the wood. I grabbed her hand. It was cold. So cold I flinched.
“P—please. No, no, no! Mom—wake up—wake up—”
Her eyes fluttered as I choked out a gasp.
She was alive but barely.
“Mira…” Her lips barely moved. “You came back…”
I let out a sob. “I—I don’t understand—what’s happening—I don’t know what’s happening. I—”
Her hand twitched weakly in mine. I could feel her bones. Thin. Brittle. Small.
“They don’t remember,” she whispered, lips parting softly as she looked at me.
I blinked, confused. “What?”
Her chest rose in a shaky breath. Her whole body trembled from the effort. “What they did to you. What they were. They don’t remember. But I do. I remember everything.”
“How…how do you know—”
She coughed. A ragged, awful sound that wrenched from her throat and left blood smeared on her chin.
I froze.
Her face contorted in pain, but she didn’t stop.
“I saw it. In my dreams. Over and over. Your death… I felt it like it was mine.”
I shook my head, tears spilling freely now. “Mom, stop… stop, please—you’re hurting—”
“You bleed over…and over,” she whispered, her voice cracking like splintered glass. “I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t stop it. I saw it all and I couldn’t do anything.”
I pressed my forehead to her cold hand. “It’s over now. I’m here. I’m here, Mom.”
She wheezed a bitter laugh. “No, baby. It’s not over. It’s starting again.”
“What do you mean—”
Her grip suddenly tightened, so sharp and desperate, like the last fight left in her bones.
“Stay away from them,” she rasped. “Alpha Darius’s sons, don’t let them near you. Promise me, Mira. They’ll ruin you again.”
“Mom—”
“You died, Mira.” Her words trembled, unraveling in the air. “You died, and they didn’t stop. And now you’re back, but they don’t remember what they did. What they are. But I do. I remember everything.”
Her body trembled, breath hitching in shallow bursts. She was burning up, soaked in cold sweat, but her skin felt like ice beneath my fingers.
I tried to hold her. To tell her to rest. To make her stop remembering if it hurt this much. But she kept going, like her heart couldn’t shut up.
“I wanted to protect you.” Her mouth twisted like it physically hurt to admit it. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve never left you behind.”
“No. No, no, don’t say that—Mom, please—don’t leave me—”
“I saw you die, and I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice was barely breath now. “I failed you, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m so—so sorry…”
Her eyes were glassy. Her gaze drifting past me, unfocused and fading.
“I love you,” she whispered, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “More than anything. Even when I wasn’t there… I loved you.”
I clutched her tighter, fear clawing up my throat. “No, no, no. Mom, don’t—stay—stay—please—”
But her fingers slipped from mine.
Her chest stilled.
And it felt like I had been shot all over again, only this time, the bullet didn’t stop at my skin. It kept going. Right through my soul.