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.
