Five Years Later

       I wish I could say the nightmares had faded with time, but that would be a lie. Every night, they haunt me. The memories crash over me like a tidal wave the moment I jolt awake: Yolanda McKinney—the fake princess of the Blue Moon Pack, the so-called Alpha heiress—her crazed eyes locked on me as she floored the gas pedal. The sickening crunch of my leg as her car struck me, the searing pain as I crumpled to the ground, and the echo of her merciless laughter as she sped away.

       Forty-eight hours of torment followed, at the hands of rogues she called her allies. They left me broken and bleeding, discarded like trash. My parents and my childhood sweetheart, Joseph Delgado, found me in a pool of my own blood. I can still see their panic-stricken faces as they carried me to the pack hospital.

       The doctor’s prognosis was grim: “She might never walk again.”

       I remember Joseph falling to his knees right there in the hospital room, gripping my hand as if it were his lifeline. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life,” he vowed, his voice trembling with sincerity.

       For a time, I believed him. I believed my parents when they swore justice had been served—that Yolanda had drowned while fleeing her guilt. I dared to hope I could rebuild, find a new purpose. But hope is a fragile thing, easily shattered.  

       Now, five years into my marriage, I sat frozen in the hospital lobby, staring at the ghost of my nightmares.  

       Yolanda McKinney.

       She wasn’t dead. She stood there, cradling a little boy—her son—while looking up at Joseph with an expression so tender it made bile rise in my throat.

       “These past years,” she cooed, her voice syrupy sweet and twice as fake, “I’ve been so thankful to you, to Mom and Dad. Without you, I’d be rotting in some rundown factory, hurt by Fiona.”  

       Fiona. That would be me.

       Yolanda’s lips curled into a smirk that made my wolf’s fur bristle. “That cripple never imagined you and I would have a pup. That Mom and Dad were in on it all along—destroying evidence, swapping her medication for useless vitamins.”  

       My blood turned to ice.  

       Joseph’s reply was a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “Don’t say that. Marrying her was the only way to keep issuing forgiveness letters and keeping you safe.”  

       Forgiveness letters? Safe?

       “As long as you and our son are happy,” Joseph added softly, “none of it matters.”  

       So this was the truth.

       The husband I had clung to, the parents I had trusted—they had all betrayed me. My marriage, my entire life, was a lie. They had sacrificed me to protect the woman who had tried to kill me.

       A bitter laugh escaped my lips. My wolf stirred, her fury a sharp, electric hum in my veins.

       Pain clawed at my chest, but I forced it down. Pain was weakness, and I refused to let them see me break.

       My phone buzzed in my pocket.

       It was my mother.

       “Fiona, where are you? Why didn’t you wait for us? We’re on our way to the hospital! Don’t go in alone!”

       Her voice dripped with urgency, but I wasn’t buying it.

       “Oh, don’t worry about me,” I replied lightly, masking my rage with a saccharine tone. “I didn’t want to inconvenience you, so I came alone.”

       “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “We’re family! You’re never a burden to us. Just stay put; we’ll be there soon!”

       Family. The word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

       I maneuvered my wheelchair to the corner of the lobby, my gaze fixed on Joseph as he answered his own call. His expression hardened, and after a brief exchange, he handed Yolanda their child and disappeared through a side door.

       Yolanda followed moments later, melting into the crowd like the snake she was.

       My phone buzzed again, but I didn’t need to answer to know the truth.

       My parents had called Joseph. They were scrambling, desperate to cover their tracks, afraid I’d uncover the lies.

       I already knew the truth.