CHAPTER THREE THE THINGS HE DOESN’T REMEMBER
1661 Words
CHAPTER THREE
THE THINGS HE DOESN’T REMEMBER
The gun never wavered.
Rain battered the cabin windows hard enough to shake the glass while candlelight flickered across claw-marked walls. Shadows moved restlessly through the room, stretching and twisting over carved symbols burned into the wood.
Caelan stood ten feet away from me with the gun aimed directly at my chest.
His breathing sounded wrong.
Too fast.
Too uneven.
Like something inside him was fighting to break loose.
“If the wolf marks you before I stop this,” he said again, voice rough with exhaustion, “neither of us survive.”
My pulse hammered painfully against my ribs.
“You keep saying the wolf like he’s another person.”
“He is.”
The answer came instantly.
Cold. Certain.
Then his hand trembled violently.
His expression twisted.
Pain flashed across his face so suddenly I almost stepped toward him on instinct.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“No,” he snarled under it.
At himself again.
The gun shook harder.
Veins darkened beneath the skin of his throat, black spreading upward like poison. His shoulders jerked violently beneath his shirt as muscles twitched under flesh.
I stared in horror.
This wasn’t mood instability.
This was war.
Inside one body.
“Don’t,” the colder voice bit out.
Then immediately—
“She’s scared.”
Different voice.
Lower.
Rougher.
Emotionally exposed.
His gold eyes flickered brighter for one impossible second before hardening again.
“She should be.”
“She stayed.”
“She shouldn’t have.”
The gun lowered an inch.
Then lifted again.
His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
Rain thundered overhead while the cabin seemed to shrink around us.
“You’re hurting her,” the rougher voice said quietly.
“I’m trying to save her.”
A pause.
Then softer:
“You don’t know how anymore.”
Something inside my chest tightened painfully.
Because the sadness in that voice felt real.
Devastatingly real.
Caelan staggered suddenly, grabbing the wall hard enough to leave splintered fingerprints in the wood. The gun slipped lower as he fought for balance.
“Stop fighting me,” the colder voice snapped.
“You pointed a weapon at our mate.”
“She is not—”
“Liar.”
The word cracked through the room with enough emotion to silence both of us.
I couldn’t breathe properly.
I was watching a man argue with himself like two separate souls were tearing each other apart from the inside.
And somehow the most horrifying part was that neither of them sounded insane.
They sounded real.
Distinct.
Different.
Caelan squeezed his eyes shut violently.
Then finally—
The gun dropped to his side.
Not willingly.
His fingers still twitched around the grip like he was trying to raise it again.
But the warmer presence inside him had won enough control to stop him.
For now.
I exhaled shakily.
He looked wrecked.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like existing hurt.
“You need to understand something,” the colder personality said finally, voice strained. “He gets attached too quickly.”
“He?” I repeated quietly.
His eyes snapped toward mine.
Sharp.
Guarded.
“He isn’t me.”
The certainty in his tone sent chills down my spine.
“You share a body.”
“We share damage.”
Thunder cracked overhead.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Then I asked carefully, “What are you?”
Something dangerous flickered across his face.
“Something people keep trying to turn into a weapon.”
He moved toward the kitchen slowly, keeping distance between us deliberately. But even now, I noticed it—the way he positioned himself between me and the windows.
Protective.
Always protective.
Even while trying to push me away.
“I’ve been hunted since I was sixteen,” he said flatly. “Some factions want control of wolves. Others want us extinct. The people from the alley?” A humorless smile crossed his mouth. “Those were the merciful ones.”
I folded my arms tighter around myself.
“The experiments.”
Silence.
His shoulders stiffened instantly.
I’d guessed correctly.
“They fractured people,” he said quietly. “Tried separating instinct from consciousness. Violence from restraint.”
“And you?”
His jaw tightened.
“They failed.”
The word sounded wrong.
Not relieved.
Haunted.
A deep growl vibrated suddenly from his chest.
Not threatening.
Warning.
His eyes flickered gold again.
“He doesn’t like when you’re frightened,” the rougher voice murmured softly.
The shift rolled through him like a wave.
Tension left his posture.
Warmth surfaced instantly in his expression.
And God help me, relief hit me harder than fear did.
The wolf personality looked at me like seeing me breathe calmed something violent inside him.
“You stayed,” he whispered.
His voice wrapped around me like heat.
Dangerous heat.
“I should leave,” I said weakly.
Pain crossed his face immediately.
“No.”
The answer came so fast it startled both of us.
He stepped closer instinctively.
Every movement pulled toward me instead of away.
“You don’t understand,” he said softly. “He’s trying to survive you.”
A shiver slid down my spine.
“And you?”
His gaze locked onto mine.
“I’m trying not to lose you.”
The mate bond twisted painfully beneath my ribs.
God.
I hated how much those words affected me.
He reached toward me carefully, fingers trembling slightly before brushing my wrist.
The connection exploded instantly.
Heat.
Emotion.
Grief sharp enough to drown in.
Flashes tore through my mind—
A boy screaming behind mirrored glass.
Silver restraints bolted to concrete.
Blood on white snow.
Hands clawing at steel doors.
A voice whispering: Split him again.
I gasped and jerked backward violently.
The wolf caught me immediately.
Concern flooded his face.
“What did you see?”
Before I could answer—
A sharp metallic click echoed outside.
Caelan froze.
All warmth vanished instantly.
His expression hardened into lethal focus.
“They found us.”
The first window exploded inward.
Glass shattered across the cabin as silver rounds tore through the wall beside my head.
“Down!”
Caelan slammed me to the floor just as another bullet ripped through the room.
The cabin erupted into chaos.
Gunfire.
Shattered wood.
Rain flooding through broken windows.
Outside, something howled deep in the forest.
Not human.
Not entirely wolf either.
Caelan moved with terrifying speed.
One second beside me—
The next ripping a hunter through the broken window hard enough to snap bones.
The transformation started instantly.
Bones cracked beneath skin.
His spine arched violently while claws burst from his fingers fully this time, black and lethal. Veins spread across his throat while his glowing eyes burned brighter than firelight.
Not fully transformed.
Worse.
Human enough to recognize.
Monster enough to fear.
Another hunter stormed through the doorway.
Caelan tore the rifle away and drove claws into the man’s chest with brutal efficiency.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
Outside, traps ignited through the forest—lines of blue fire exploding between trees while alarms screamed through the storm.
The wolf howled inside him.
I could feel it somehow.
A second hunter grabbed me from behind.
Cold metal pressed against my throat.
“Move and she dies!”
Everything stopped.
Caelan turned slowly.
Rain dripped from claws stained dark with blood.
His face looked horrifyingly calm.
Not feral.
Controlled.
That terrified me more.
The hunter tightened his grip on me. “Drop—”
He never finished.
Caelan crossed the room so fast I barely saw movement.
Then blood hit my face.
The hunter collapsed in pieces.
Not rage.
Precision.
Calculated brutality.
The human personality did that.
Not the wolf.
Realization slammed into me hard enough to steal my breath.
The cold one was worse.
Not because he lacked emotion.
Because he controlled it.
Another shot rang out.
Caelan jerked violently.
Silver bullet.
Straight through his side.
He snarled in pain but kept moving, slaughtering the last hunter before collapsing hard against the wall.
Silence crashed through the cabin afterward.
Only rain remained.
And our breathing.
I rushed toward him before thinking better of it.
“Don’t,” he rasped weakly.
Too late.
Blood soaked through my hands immediately as I caught him.
The silver wound smoked faintly beneath torn fabric.
His skin burned unnaturally hot.
“You’re dying.”
“Not yet.”
His voice sounded distant now.
Exhausted.
I dragged him beside the fireplace while thunder rattled the cabin overhead.
My hands shook as I peeled his ruined shirt away.
Then froze.
Scars.
Dear God.
His entire back was covered in them.
Surgical incisions.
Burn marks.
Old restraint wounds carved deep into flesh.
Some looked almost inhuman—like claws had torn through muscle repeatedly from the inside.
Evidence of torture.
Experimentation.
Survival.
Something sharp twisted painfully in my chest.
This wasn’t a monster born violent.
This was something broken into one.
Caelan’s head fell back against the chair, half-conscious now.
Rainlight flickered across his ruined skin.
Then softly—
So softly I almost missed it—
“They made him,” he whispered, “because I couldn’t survive it alone.”
My breath caught.
The wolf personality.
Not a parasite.
Not corruption.
Protection.
A shield built from trauma and instinct because one mind alone couldn’t survive the horror done to him.
The realization devastated me.
I dipped a cloth into warm water carefully and cleaned blood from his shoulder in silence.
His breathing deepened gradually.
Sleep.
Finally.
Or something close to it.
Then suddenly—
His hand shot out.
Fingers wrapped violently around my throat.
I gasped as he slammed me backward against the floor.
Gold eyes snapped open glowing unnaturally bright.
But this voice—
This wasn’t the wolf I’d met before.
This was darker.
Possessive.
Terrifying.
“If you touch him again,” he growled, “I’ll kill you myself.”
- Writer
