I Don't Want You Anymore

*Beep. Beep. Beep.* Caroline bolted upright in bed, gasping. “Whoa, easy." A hand pressed gently on her shoulder. “You're safe." Her wide eyes snapped to the man beside her. Tall, rigid posture. Steel-gray eyes that didn't blink. A gun holster. Not a doctor. “Who are you?" “Bryant," he said simply. “Your guard." “My what?" Before he could reply, the door swung open. “Caroline," a woman in a white coat exclaimed, rushing in. “You're awake. That's good." “Where am I?" Caroline whispered. “Taylor Regional Hospital," the doctor replied. “I'm Dr. Avery. You fell down the stairs three weeks ago. You've been unconscious since." Caroline frowned. “I don't remember... anything." Dr. Avery's smile tightened. “That's expected. You suffered a mild head trauma. Your long-term memory seems intact—basic vocabulary, motor function—but recent events are gone." “And who's this... Bryant?" “He's your personal guard," the doctor said. “Assigned by Alpha Taylor—your father." A long silence. Then, cautiously: “Alpha Taylor?" “Yes," Dr. Avery nodded. “You're Caroline Taylor. The Alpha's only daughter. Don't worry, it'll come back gradually." “I want to see him," Caroline said sharply. Dr. Avery hesitated. “He's on his way. But Caroline... you've been through a lot. You should rest." “I've done enough lying around." Her voice was firm, icy even to her own ears. “I need answers. Not pity." Bryant said nothing, but his eyes softened—just a little. “Bryant," Caroline turned to him, “can you bring me my clothes?" “You can't discharge her yet—" Dr. Avery started. Caroline cut her off. “Try stopping me." Moments later, Bryant handed over a neatly folded outfit. She slipped into it slowly, ignoring the sting in her ribs. Her gaze darted around the hospital room—flowers on the window sill, cards, a small stuffed bear. One bouquet caught her eye. A tag read, *“Always yours — Mason."* Caroline blinked. “Who's Mason?" Bryant's jaw tightened. “The Beta's son." “Is he my... boyfriend?" “You used to say that." She stared at the flowers. “I feel nothing." Bryant didn't answer. Just picked up her coat and draped it over her shoulders. As he helped her out the door, she murmured, “What kind of person was I before this?" Bryant paused. “Loyal. Generous. But... too trusting." They passed by a nurse wheeling a tray. Caroline instinctively scanned for exits, stairwells, any blind spots. Bryant noticed. “You remember your training." “I was trained?" “You insisted on it," he replied. “Said Alpha daughters shouldn't rely on others to survive." Caroline's mouth curled faintly. “Smart girl." Outside, a sleek black SUV waited at the curb. The driver jumped out and opened the door. “Do I live far?" “Taylor Manor is twenty minutes north," Bryant said. As the car pulled away, she pressed her fingers against her temples. “I feel like... like I'm watching someone else's life from behind glass." “You're not alone," Bryant said quietly. “You never were." The car turned onto a tree-lined drive. Gates opened automatically. A massive estate loomed ahead—stone, iron, and glass. Soldiers stood at each corner. “My house?" Bryant nodded. She stepped out slowly, surveying the structure. A chill danced down her spine. “I don't remember it," she murmured. “You will." Inside, servants lined up. Some looked worried. Some hopeful. The butler bowed. “Miss Caroline. Welcome home." “Thank you." Her voice was crisp. She didn't recognize a single face. As she climbed the grand staircase, footsteps echoed behind her. She turned at the top landing—and froze. A man leaned against the banister, smirking. Tousled blond hair, perfect teeth, confident as sin. “Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty." He stepped closer. “Thought you might enjoy breakfast with me." Caroline tilted her head. “And you are?" His smile faltered. “Funny. I'm Mason." “Oh," she said, voice flat. He extended a hand for her to kiss. She stared at it. Then turned to Bryant. “Get him out." Mason blinked. “Excuse me?" Bryant didn't hesitate. He stepped forward. “What the hell is this?" Mason barked. “She's joking, right?" “I don't feel like laughing," Caroline said coolly. Servants gasped as Bryant ushered Mason out. Mason's voice rang down the corridor: “You'll remember, Caroline! And when you do, you'll come crawling back like always!" Caroline stood still, face unreadable. Bryant returned. “Thank you," she said simply. He nodded. She turned toward the hallway. “I want every receipt. Every charge Mason made under my name. Every gift, car, travel booking." Bryant raised an eyebrow. “You're sure?" “I may not remember who I was," she said, “but I know who I am now." Outside, thunder grumbled. Rain streaked across the stained-glass windows. Caroline watched droplets slide down like tears she refused to shed. “Bryant," she said. “Yes?" “If I start acting like someone weak... remind me I'm not." He looked at her, voice low. “I won't have to." She gave a small nod, lips tight. Later, alone in her room, she stood at the window. The blue-gray light of morning crept between the curtains. She breathed deeply, cataloguing every new sensation—rain on her skin, the scent of lavender from her dresser, the distant howl of wolves through the storm. She would not drift through life unquestioning. Not anymore.