The Alpha's Amnesia

Ryder's eyes flutter open because the stone walls are so heavy. Cold air comes in through the open window, smells like wet dirt and aged wood. His head hurts, and it throbs with every beat of his heart. He touches his temple with one hand and feels the roughness of his skin, but he doesn't recognise it. I don't know this room or this mansion at all.

He moves, and the bed creaks beneath him as his body protests the movement. He feels like he fought in a battle because his muscles are stiff and sore, yet the only struggle he remembers is the fog in his mind. Everything feels wrong. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of something ancient and unused.

There are no windows except the one above him, which lets in a small amount of moonlight that makes strange shadows throughout the room. He tries to sit up, but his chest tightens and he stumbles, grabbing the side of the bed to stabilise himself. Panic is trying to get to the borders of his thoughts, but he shakes it off and stands up.

He lets out a low mutter as he tries to figure out what's happening around him. "Where am I?"

The night air hums, but there is no answer. Ryder's eyes dart across the room, taking in the majestic yet strangely frigid decor. Dark tapestries hang on the walls, thick rugs cover the stone floor, and ancient furniture is scattered throughout the room. The area smells strongly of polished wood. It seems like a place made for power, not ease.

Then he hears it: whispers from the corridor and low voices that break the dense hush of the room. He can't hear the words, but the tone is urgent. There is a sensation of tension in the air that he can't tell if it's coming from the people talking outside or from inside him. He pays close attention, and his heart rate rises as the speakers become closer.

Who are they? What do they know?

Ryder puts his ear to the door, and the cool wood against his head keeps him in the moment. He tries hard to hear but can't make out the words. But the tone seems too... familiar. He ought to know them. He should be able to trust them. But something isn't right.

A door creaks open, and then you hear footsteps in the distance.

Ryder jumps back from the door, his heart racing.

The door opens. A woman walks in. She is tall and has long, silver hair that looks like it is shining in the dim light. Her amber eyes are piercing and full of tenderness and worry, but there's something else there that you can't read. She walks toward him elegantly, like someone who belongs here and knows how things work.

"Elara?" Ryder croaks, and his voice is harsh from not using it. He can't get her name out of his head, like a song he used to know.

She smiles sweetly, but there is a hint of sadness in her grin. "Yes, it's me, Ryder." Now you're safe.

Safe. The word sounds empty in the space between them. He wants to trust her, but the tightness in his chest grows. Is it safe? But from what?

"You were... hurt," she says, softly moving a lock of hair from his forehead. Her touch is soft, but it doesn't make him feel better like it should. It seems too planned out and careful.

When Ryder looks up at her, his brow furrows. "I don't remember..." His voice fades away. Everything that happened before this room is a blur for him. A heavy weight on him makes it hard to breathe, let alone remember.

"Elara..." He pauses, still unsure why her name seems strange and familiar. "Where am I?" What happened?

She sits next to him and puts her hand on his arm. "Ryder, you're in the Blackwood Mansion." For days, you've been out cold. But you're getting better.

Hearing her comments is comforting, yet they don't sit well. He doesn't find consolation in them but feels a gnawing emptiness-the Blackwood House. The name rings in his head like a riddle he can't quite figure out. He doesn't remember being here or feeling like he owns it.

And her. Elara. Why do they seem to have something wrong between them?

He stares at her more carefully, searching her face for any signs of truth. Her eyes contact his, and they are too steady and tranquil, as if she is waiting for something. But what?

Ryder leans back, his head spinning. "I don't,"

Then, out of nowhere, she goes in close and kisses him on the cheek, which lasts longer than it should. He can feel her skin's warmth and the tenderness of her lips, but it's not right. The kiss is too sweet and loving, making him feel cold.

He instinctively draws back. "No," he says softly, his mind racing with bewilderment. "I don't,"

"Stop, Elara. "What is going on?" he asks, his voice getting sharper. He doesn't know his feelings, but knows it's not right.

Elara steps back when he flicks, her face showing pain and acceptance. She almost sheepishly responds, "I know this is hard." "But you need time to think." "Time?" "It's not easy." Ryder cuts in, squinting his eyes as he tries to focus on her face. His thoughts are racing faster than the room is spinning. What time is it? It's time to learn who he is.

His chest gets tight, and something flashes in his mind for a second. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and his heart races. He can almost feel it: power, strength, and leadership. A name comes to mind, but it's just out of reach.

In his thoughts, he sees a flash of a man who is strong and determined. The head of a group. His group? But the picture is broken, gone in an instant, before he can grab it. It's like trying to catch water with your hands.

He repeats her name, "Elara," which sounds suspicious this time. His voice is low and tense. "I sense something." But I can't...

His eyesight is blurry, and then pictures flash. A fight. Blood. A treachery. He feels a sudden, visceral sense of loss that makes him gasp. He can't stop thinking about the enemy's name. Zane.

But why? Why does Zane follow him about like a shadow, someone from his past that he can't recall but who nonetheless scares him to his core?

"Ryder?" Elara's words snap him out of his thoughts, and her hand is close to his shoulder. He jumps, and his heart races.

"Who are you really?" he says, his voice full of doubt.

Elara freezes, and for a split second, her eyes flash in a way that Ryder can't understand, but it's enough.

Suddenly, a chill surrounds him, and a feeling of dread grips his chest. His wolf is awake and moving around inside him, sensing danger in the air.

And suddenly it hits him: betrayal, grief, and regret fill his consciousness. The acute pain of authority sliding away from him.

Ryder's heart races as he reaches out to grab Elara's wrist. "Tell me the truth," he says. "Tell me now."

But the air changes before she can answer. A strange, quiet noise outside the door makes Ryder quiver.

Something is on the way. Something he isn't ready for.

Ryder stopped at the frigid window and looked over the Blackwood Mansion's grounds, which were enveloped in fog. It was hard to see outside. It looked like it belonged to someone he didn't know. He put his fingers against the glass, and the cold seeped into his bones, but it didn't stop the feeling of dread that was eating away at him.

Elara was always right behind him. He could feel her energy pulling him down like gravity, but something was amiss. She was the one who stayed with him and cared for him, yet every time he looked at her, his heart wrenched. He didn't feel like the Alpha, the man she thought he was.

"You are the Alpha, Ryder." Elara's voice was quiet but stern when she said, "You are the leader of the Nightshade Pack." It held the weight of something they hadn't said to one other.

He didn't answer right away. Her words hung in the air, and her voice made him feel something, but it wasn't the comfort he had hoped for. The thought of being an Alpha seemed far away and empty. His head was like a broken puzzle, and his heart didn't feel like a leader's.

Ryder said, "I don't feel like an Alpha," his voice hoarse and nearly too quiet.

As she walked up to him, her footsteps were soft. Before he knew it, Elara was beside him, her warm hand brushing against his and her fingers tangling with his. She muttered, "You are," her lips brushing his ear, making him shudder. "Just remember who you are."

He turned his head and looked straight into her eyes. They were golden, deep, and full of love, but there was something more there, something darker, a flash of remorse that made his stomach tighten. There was no denying that they were connected, but it seemed broken, like a bond that had been stretched and twisted.

"Why do you call me that?" His voice broke, and there was a question hanging in the air between them.

Her fingers tightened around his, and her eyes softened. "My love," she said softly. The words were soothing, but they hurt.

Ryder's heart rate slowed down. His thoughts were racing. Why did that phrase seem like a lie? A truth that had been changed into something else?

"I don't remember us," he said in a low voice, as if saying it out loud would make it real.

Elara's face relaxed, and her eyes shone with tears that she hadn't wept yet. "I know," she said in a low voice. "But you will."

He held her hand, silently asking for comfort that didn't come. The emptiness in his chest deepened, louder than the sound of his wolf, and it seemed like there was no way to go to him. He had to keep that in mind. He had to.

The mansion was very peaceful. Not loud enough.

Ryder lay back on the pillows, his body hurting in ways he couldn't put into words. His memories arrived in bits and pieces that didn't fit together. Shadows moved across the walls as he looked up at the ceiling, which was very detailed. The light in the room changed, and for a second, he believed he saw faces, weird, new faces that went away as he blinked.

Elara stood by the entrance with her back to him, getting ready for something at the little table by the window. Ryder couldn't help but notice the underlying tension in the air, even if her movements were smooth and graceful.

Ryder responded, "You still haven't told me everything." his voice was steady, but his mind was racing with bewilderment.

Elara's hand stopped in the air, and her fingers shook as she reached for a water pitcher. She didn't look back. She asked, "What do you mean?" in a too gentle voice.

He pushed himself up in bed and looked straight at her back. "I can feel it," he muttered. "Elara, something's not right." Something I can't remember. And still... He stopped and squinted. It was hard not to want to trust and believe her, yet scepticism crept in like a shadow.

She turned to face him, and her shoulders tightened. Her eyes were black with worry. "You are still healing." "Don't push yourself too hard," she said in a voice that was too calm and careful.

He didn't listen to her. He sought answers and needed to know why everything was wrong. His wolf twitched inside him, restless and vigilant, as if it knew something he didn't.

As the door creaked, Ryder's eyes moved to it. The sound was so mild that it could have been imagined. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

A voice came through the breach, quiet and panicked. He couldn't understand the words, but the tone, which was angry and urgent, made him feel uneasy.

Ryder's voice was shrill as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. His muscles didn't like the rapid movement.

She stared at him, and panic flashed in her eyes, but her face stayed calm. Too calm.

"Stay here," she murmured, moving closer to him. She held out her hand, but Ryder backed away, his instincts telling him to.

The whispers outside got louder, and the sounds became more sinister and dangerous. Ryder's eyes lit up, and his senses were on fire as he sought to figure out what he was hearing. His heart raced in his chest, making him even more confused.

"Something's going on, Elara," he remarked in an almost whispering voice.