His Missing Luna

CHAPTER 82

AMERIE

MEMORIES

“They’re here?” I ask, my voice tight with unease.

“They’ve been here for days, asking for an alliance,” Father replies, his deep blue eyes narrowing. “I knew something was off with his request.”

“What does he want?” I press, my heartbeat quickening.

“He claims an alpha took his son’s mate and wants me to help him deal with this alpha,” Midriel answers, his tone bitter.

I freeze, knowing exactly who this alpha is. “What’s the alpha’s name?”

“Alpha Nathan Hunt.”

A chill sweeps through me, nearly knocking me out of my seat. I straighten quickly, trying to hide my reaction.

“Amerie?” My mother’s concerned voice pulls me back. She’s already at my side, leaving Father to watch us both, his jaw clenched. “Talk to me.”

“Kizziah is lying,” I manage to say, the words tumbling out. “I’m not Saul’s mate.” Even with Nathan’s betrayal, I know I can’t let Kizziah ruin his name. He saved me from them.

Mother gasps, horror dawning in her eyes. “Saul… He’s the one they tried to force you to mate with? You’re the Jessica?”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes. Alpha Nathan is my mate. He rescued me on the day of the mating ceremony.”

As I recount the events, I watch the storm of emotions crossing their faces—anger, sorrow, relief—each one tightening the knot in my chest.

When I finish, Father looks at me with a mix of concern and determination. “Do you remember anything from before? Any details at all?”

“Nothing specific,” I admit, shaking my head. “Just a vision, maybe a memory, of my old room.” I look up at him, guilt weighing heavily on me. “I’m sorry, Father.”

His expression softens, and he bends down to kiss my hair. “Don’t be, princess. Your memories will come back with time. Just being here with us will help.”

I nod, but a question burns in my mind. I take a deep breath and ask, “Can I ask something?”

“Anything, princess,” he replies, his tone gentle but firm.

“How did I get lost?” My voice is barely a whisper, but it feels like a scream in the silence that follows.

Midriel sucks in a breath, slowly standing to face the wall, his broad shoulders tense. Mother turns away, her hands trembling, while Father’s grip on me tightens.

“Did I… run away?” I ask, my heart pounding.

Father lets out a bitter laugh. “No, Amerie. You didn’t run away. Someone took you from us.”

“It was my fault!” Midriel suddenly growls, turning back to me with anguish in his eyes. “I was supposed to be watching you—”

“Midriel, stop,” Mother cuts him off sharply, her voice trembling.

“No, Mother. If I hadn’t been distracted, I would have seen them coming,” he continues, guilt choking his words. “I let a stupid bunny distract me,” he adds, his voice faltering as he looks at me, eyes filled with years of regret.

“You were just a child. Who knows what they would have done if you’d seen them? We could have lost you both.”

“Better me than her,” he snarls, his voice cracking. “Did you hear what she went through? What they did to her!”

“It’s not your fault,” I interject, standing and crossing to him. I can’t bear to see him this way. “Please, Midriel. You can’t let this destroy you. I’m home now.”

He gives me a sad smile, the weight of his guilt still heavy in his eyes. “You’re my little sister. I was supposed to protect you that day.”

“And you would have, Iddy,” I assure him, using the nickname that suddenly feels so familiar. “But like Mother said, no one knows what would have happened. They could have taken us both.”

Midriel’s eyes widen, then a laugh bursts from his lips, filling the room with a surprising warmth. “Iddy,” he repeats, his voice lighter, almost wistful. “You used to call me that all the time.”

His laugh feels like a balm to the heavy atmosphere, but it’s short-lived. As he playfully flicks my forehead, a sharp pain stabs through my skull, and I wince, clutching my head as it throbs.

“Amerie!” Their voices blend together, a chorus of panic as they gather around me.

I feel a rush of images flood my mind. Each one screaming to break through some kind of metallic wall in my head. Soft fingers touch my temples and start massaging them.

“There’s a block in her mind. They blocked her memories,”

I hear my mother say before I black out and find myself in an open field.

Childish giggles fill this beautiful place. My eyes search for the owners and see a little girl running through the field of flowers. Beside her a boy with the same hair colour.

A smile breaks across my face as I realize that’s Midriel and me. Our little versions.

Both of them chasing after colorful butterflies, their laughter ringing in my ears. I can feel the cool breeze on my skin and soft earth beneath my feet as I run with them.

“I want that one, Iddy,” little me says, pointing eagerly at a butterfly with delicate purple and gold wings.

Midriel’s childish face scrunches in concentration. “You always want the hardest ones. Only Mother or Father can catch butterflies,” he complains, pouting.

I watch myself whine in response, a mixture of determination and frustration on my young face. “But you’re older than me! Your powers will come before mine.”

“Only when I’m older, silly,” he retorts, flicking my forehead just like he did earlier in the present.

“Ouch! That hurts, Iddy,” I pout, rubbing the spot. “I’m telling Mother!” I declare, spinning on my heel and dashing away, with Midriel hot on my heels, pleading for mercy.

The scene shifts, blurring into a memory of us eating together at a large table. Our parents, younger and full of life, exchange loving glances, their affection for each other palpable. The warmth of their love envelops us, and I feel safe, cherished.

I stifle a giggle, worried they might hear me, but they’re all too engrossed in their meal. All except one—a woman seated a few places away from us. Her features are eerily similar to my mother’s, but her eyes, once soft and blue, have hardened, turning cold and cruel.

I know that look too well. It’s the same look Sasha and the other females at Kizziah’s pack had—envy, seething just beneath the surface.

Even within the memory, anger flares in my chest, hot and potent, as I watch this woman glare at my mother.

The scene shifts again, and I find myself in another part of the pack, the sun dipping low in the sky.

The scene blurs, and I’m in another part of the pack, the sun dipping low in the sky.

“Iddy, I want to go home,” little me whines, exhaustion clear in my young voice. My clothes are dirty, my face smudged with dirt. “I’m hungry, and Mother will be mad if we’re late.”

“Just a minute, whiny,” Midriel says, his voice a mix of frustration and determination. “Keep your voice down, or you’ll scare the bunny away,” he warns, inching closer to a small white bunny licking its paws.

I remember this moment. I’m older now, standing in the memory, watching it unfold. There’s something off about that bunny, but little me doesn’t notice. I watch as I turn away, fed up with waiting.

“I’m going home by myself,” I declare, my voice filled with stubbornness. “You can stay with your silly bunny.”

As I watch my younger self walk away, dread coils in my stomach. I know what’s coming, but I’m helpless to stop it. My eyes flick to Midriel, still focused on the bunny, oblivious to the danger lurking.

From behind, I hear myself speaking to someone—a woman’s voice replies, too smooth, too sweet.

“…Iddy wants to catch a bunny, and I’m hungry,” I say, my voice small and tired.

The woman’s voice sends a shiver down my spine, even now. “We can get you something to eat at my place before I take you home.”

I want to scream, to pull little me away from this sinister stranger, but I’m frozen, trapped in the memory. My heart races with fury and fear.

“But Mother said never to take food from strangers,” little me protests.

The woman’s voice drips with false kindness. “I’m no stranger to you, Amerie. I’m—”

Before I can hear her next words, a powerful force rips me from the memory, pulling me back into the present.