# CHAPTER 13: THE MEMORY
The door closes behind Derek.
Alana stands frozen in the center of her living room.
The lilies sit on the coffee table. White. Fragile. A reminder of a kindness she didn't expect.
But her mind is somewhere else.
Somewhen else.
*He was there.*
*He found me.*
*He held me while I bled.*
The words replay in her skull. A loop. A curse. A revelation.
Five years. Five years of believing she was alone. That no one came. That Alexander had left her to die on a cold bathroom floor.
But someone had come.
*Derek.*
*Alexander's brother.*
*The gentle one.*
She sinks onto the couch. Her legs give out. Her body trembles.
The memory presses against her consciousness. Demanding. Insistent.
*No. Not yet. I can't.*
But it comes anyway.
---
*October. Five years ago.*
The apartment is quiet.
Alexander is at work. Pierce Technologies. A board meeting. Something about expansion. New markets. She doesn't fully understand his world. The business. The politics. The pack.
She only knows that she loves him. And that he loves her. And that in four months, they will have a child. A family. Everything she never had growing up.
She is in the nursery. Painting. The walls are pale yellow. Sunshine. Hope.
There is a crib. A changing table. A rocking chair. Tiny clothes folded in drawers. Tiny socks. Tiny hats. A mobile with stars and moons that plays a lullaby.
She hums as she works. A tune she doesn't remember learning. Something her mother might have sung. If her mother had lived. If she had ever known her.
The baby kicks. A flutter. A hello.
She touches her belly. Smiles.
"Hello, little one," she whispers. "I can't wait to meet you."
The afternoon sun streams through the window. Golden. Warm. The world feels safe. Perfect.
She doesn't know yet that everything is about to end.
---
The pain comes three days later.
It starts as a cramp. Mild. Barely noticeable. She thinks it's just the baby moving. Growing. Stretching. Her body adjusting to the changes.
She ignores it. Drinks water. Lies down. Waits for it to pass.
But it doesn't pass.
It gets worse.
A sharp. Tearing. Blinding.
She is in the bathroom. Washing her hands. Getting ready for bed.
And then she looks down.
Blood.
On her thighs. On the floor. Pooling around her feet. Soaking into the bathmat. Running between the tiles.
Her heart stops.
*No.*
*No, no, no.*
She reaches for her phone. Dials Alexander's number.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Hey, Lan." His voice is warm. Tired. Happy to hear from her. "I'm just finishing up. I'll be home in an hour. Do you want me to pick up—"
"Alexander." Her voice breaks. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. "Something's wrong."
A pause. Then his voice shifts. Sharp. Alert. The Alpha emerging.
"What is it? What's happening?"
"I'm bleeding." She chokes on a sob. The fear is rising. Consuming her. "There's so much blood. The baby—"
"Stay on the phone with me." His voice is steady. Calm. Commanding. "I'm calling an ambulance. Don't move. Don't panic. Just breathe."
The phone slips from her hand.
It clatters to the floor. The screen cracks.
She collapses.
The tiles are cold against her cheek. The room spins. Lights blur. Shadows dance at the edges of her vision.
The pain is everywhere. Her abdomen. Her back. Her soul. A tearing. A ripping. Something being pulled from her body.
She feels the baby move. Once. Twice. A desperate flutter.
Then stillness.
*No.*
*Please, God. No.*
She tries to crawl. To reach the door. To find help.
But her body won't cooperate. Her limbs are heavy. Weak. Her vision darkens.
She hears a sound. A crash. The front door being kicked in.
Someone is here.
"Alana!"
Not Alexander. A different voice. Younger. Terrified.
Footsteps. Running. Getting closer. Faster.
The bathroom door bursts open.
A man stands in the threshold. Brown hair. Amber eyes. Face pale with terror. His chest heaves. His hands shake.
*Derek.*
She doesn't recognize him. Not consciously. Not through the haze of pain and blood and fear.
She only sees a stranger. Someone who might help. Someone who might save her baby.
"Please," she whispers. Her voice is weak. Fading. "The baby. Save the baby."
Derek drops to his knees. The tiles are wet. Red. His jeans soak through. He doesn't seem to notice.
His hands are gentle. Careful. He presses a towel against her abdomen. Tries to stop the bleeding. His face is pale. Stricken. Tears stream down his cheeks.
"It's okay," he says. His voice shakes. "You're going to be okay. The ambulance is coming. Just stay with me. Please. Stay with me."
She reaches for him. Grabs his shirt. Her fingers are slick with blood. She holds on like he's a lifeline.
"Don't let my baby die." The words come out as a sob. A prayer. "Please. Don't let my baby die."
Derek's face crumbles. Something breaks behind his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. His voice cracks. "I'm so sorry."
The sirens come. Closer. Louder. Filling the night.
Derek strokes her hair. His touch is gentle. Soothing. He speaks to her. Words she can't quite hear. Promises. Comfort.
"Stay with me, Alana. Open your eyes. Please. Stay with me."
But the darkness is winning. Pulling her down. Dragging her under.
The last thing she sees is Derek's face. Amber eyes filled with tears. Lips moving. Words she can't hear.
Then the world fades.
---
Alana gasps.
Her eyes fly open.
She is in her apartment. On the couch. The present. Not the past.
But her body remembers. Her skin feels cold. Her abdomen throbs with phantom pain. Her hands tremble.
*He was there.*
*He held me.*
*He stayed with me when I thought I was dying.*
*And I never knew.*
She stands. Walks to the window. Presses her forehead against the glass.
The city lights blur. The rain begins to fall. Tiny droplets. A mist.
*Five years.*
*Five years of believing I was alone.*
*Five years of believing no one came.*
*But Derek came.*
*He kicked down the door. He held me. He begged me to stay alive.*
*Why didn't anyone tell me?*
She turns. Picks up her phone.
A text from Alexander. Unanswered.
*"Derek came to see you. He told me what he planned to say. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the blood law. I thought it would complicate things. I was wrong. Please. Call me when you're ready."*
She doesn't call.
Instead, she scrolls through her contacts. Finds a number she doesn't recognize. A number Derek gave her before he left.
*His personal cell.*
She hesitates. Her thumb hovers over the screen.
*What do I say?*
*What do I ask?*
*How do I process any of this?*
She dials.
It rings. Once. Twice.
"Alana." Derek's voice. Soft. Concerned. "Is everything okay?"
"No." Her voice breaks. "Nothing is okay."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you tonight. It was too much. I—"
"Derek." She cuts him off. "Stop."
A pause.
"What do you need?" he asks quietly.
Alana closes her eyes.
"I need to see you," she says. "I need to talk. About that night. About everything."
---
The address comes five minutes later.
A small apartment. Capitol Hill. Not far from her own.
*Derek's place.*
She puts on her coat. Grabs her keys. Walks out into the night.
The streets are quiet. Cold. Rain mists against her face. The streetlights reflect on the wet pavement.
She drives. Parks. Finds the building.
A brownstone. Old. Charming. Not what she expected from a werewolf Beta.
She climbs the stairs. Finds the door. Apartment 3B.
She knocks.
Footsteps. Then the door opens.
Derek stands in the threshold. He's changed out of his suit. Wearing jeans. A grey sweater. His feet are bare. His hair is damp. He looks younger. Softer. More human.
His eyes are cautious. Worried.
"Come in," he says. Steps back.
She enters.
The apartment is warm. Cozy. Books everywhere—on shelves, on tables, stacked on the floor. A fire in the hearth. Soft music playing. A guitar in the corner.
It looks like a home.
*Unlike mine. Which looks like a museum. Or a hospital.*
"Can I get you something?" Derek asks. "Tea? Coffee? I have wine, but under the circumstances..."
"I don't want anything." Alana turns. Faces him. "I want answers."
Derek nods slowly.
"Okay." He gestures to the couch. "Please. Sit."
She doesn't sit. She stands. Arms crossed. Facing him.
"You found me," she says. "That night. You held me while I bled."
Derek's face pales. He looks away. His jaw tightens.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me? After? When I was recovering? Why didn't you come to me?"
Derek is silent for a moment. He walks to the fireplace. Stares at the flames. His hands grip the mantle.
"Alexander made me promise," he says quietly. "He said Marcus would kill me if he knew I had contact with you. He said the best thing I could do was stay away. Protect you from a distance. Let you heal."
"And you just... obeyed?"
"What choice did I have?" Derek turns. His eyes are wet. "Alexander is my Alpha. My brother. I trusted him. He said staying away was the only way to keep you safe."
"But I thought I was alone." Alana's voice rises. "I thought no one came. I thought Alexander abandoned me. I thought..." She breaks off. Swallows. "I thought I didn't matter to anyone."
"You mattered." Derek's voice is rough. "You mattered to me. Every day for five years. I wanted to reach out. To tell you the truth. To—"
He stops. Looks away.
"To what?" Alana asks.
Derek is silent.
The fire crackles. The clock ticks. The rain taps against the window.
Then he looks up. Meets her eyes. His amber gaze is steady. Unwavering. Full of something she can't quite name.
"To tell you that I cared," he says quietly. "That I was there. That you weren't alone."
Alana stares at him.
*He cared.*
*He was there.*
*I wasn't alone.*
The truth settles over her. A weight. A relief. A wound reopening.
"Why didn't Alexander come?" she asks. Her voice breaks. "That night. Derek came. You came. But Alexander..." She shakes her head. "Where was he?"
Derek's face darkens. Pain. Anger.
"Marcus," he says. "He had Alexander cornered. Somewhere across town. A fake emergency. A distraction. By the time Alexander realized what was happening... it was too late."
Alana's blood runs cold.
"He planned it."
"Marcus planned all of it. The poison. The distraction. Making sure Alexander wasn't there when..." Derek trails off. His hands clench. "He wanted Alexander to blame himself. To break. And it worked."
Alana closes her eyes.
*Alexander blamed himself.*
*For five years, he carried that guilt.*
*And so did I.*
"He left because Marcus threatened to kill me," she whispers. "He left to protect me."
"Yes." Derek's voice is soft. "He loved you enough to walk away. To let you hate him. If it meant you would live."
Alana opens her eyes.
*Love.*
*Such a complicated thing.*
*Destructive. Sacrificial. Cruel.*
*But still love.*
She walks to the couch. Sits. Her body feels heavy. Drained.
Derek moves to the armchair across from her. Gives her space. Doesn't push.
"I need time," she says. "To think. To process."
"Of course." Derek nods. "Take all the time you need."
"But I want you to know something." She looks up. Meets his eyes. "Thank you. For that night. For being there. For holding me when I thought I was dying."
Derek's face softens. Something flickers in his amber eyes. Sorrow. Relief. And something deeper. Something he quickly hides.
"You don't need to thank me," he says quietly. "I was just... there."
"You were there when no one else was." Alana's voice is steady. "That matters. More than you know."
Derek looks away. His jaw tightens.
"I'll walk you out," he says.
---
The rain has stopped.
Alana stands on the steps of the brownstone. The air is cold. Fresh. Cleansed.
Derek stands in the doorway. Silhouetted by the warm light behind him.
"I'll tell Alexander," he says. "That you need time. He'll respect that."
"Thank you."
"Alana." Derek steps forward. His voice is hesitant. "Whatever you decide... about the plan. About everything. I want you to know... I'll protect you. Even if you say no. Even if you walk away from all of this." He pauses. "You deserve that much. After everything."
Alana studies him. This gentle man. This wolf who has loved her from a distance for five years.
*He's different from Alexander.*
*Softer. Kinder. More human.*
*But still a wolf.*
*Still dangerous.*
*Still worth trusting.*
"I'll be in touch," she says.
She walks to her car. Gets in. Drives home.
The city passes in a blur. Lights. People. Lives being lived.
She parks in the garage. Takes the elevator. Walks to her door.
The apartment is dark. Silent. Empty.
She doesn't turn on the lights.
She walks to the bedroom. Collapses on the bed. Stares at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzes.
A text from Alexander.
*"Derek told me you need time. Take it. I'll wait. However long you need. I love you. - A"*
Alana sets the phone down.
Closes her eyes.
*A child. A trap. A war.*
*Two brothers. One baby. A secret that could change everything.*
*And a memory I can never forget.*
She drifts into sleep.
And for the first time in five years, she doesn't dream of blood.
She dreams of fire.