The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.
Where as before, Hannah had nestled under a cloak of warmth, happily surrounded by companionship, friendship and a sense of love that even the dark shadows and torrential rains outside could not penetrate. Now, as if someone had flung open a door to the outside world, a chill descended across the room and the shadows crept in to descend upon Blake's frozen face.
Hannah stared around, confused by the sudden silence.
Blake's eyes remained glazed as he communicated through the pack-link, but his fingers clutched so tightly at the edge of the table, she could see the wood beneath begin crack and distort under the power of his grip.
A look of shock fell across his companion's faces and both lieutenants avoided her inquiring look, their eyes fixed on their Alpha's set features. Asher, by contrast, fixed her with a penetrating stare - an expression in his eyes she couldn't decipher.
"What is it?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded. "What's happened?"
Almost in response to her voice, Blake blinked a couple of times and his gaze cleared. He continued to stare into the distance for a minute, his jaw clenching and unclenching again as though in an internal dispute with himself, then stood up abruptly and turned towards the heavy oak doors. Not a word was spoken as he strode towards the corridor, the stiff set of his shoulders screaming to Hannah that something was wrong.
"Blake?" she called after him, her voice wavering as the uncertainty washed over her. He paused in the doorway and turned his head to look at her.
She paled.
His face was set like stone, his jaw locked and his eyes emotionless as they looked at nothing in particular over her head. Cold and unreachable. "Take her home," he ordered Alex, his voice stiff and unnaturally controlled - the only sign that other emotions were at work under the expressionless exterior.
Bewildered, Hannah stared down at the chair Blake had vacated so suddenly, his warmth still tangible around the seat. Her eyes drifted towards the table he'd gripped so fiercely and registered shock at seeing the wood completely crushed and splintered around the edge - she could almost see the outline of his fingers in the warped remains.
What happened to incite such a response from him?
She opened her mouth to ask, but the Gamma stood up abruptly - the momentum shoving his chair backwards; legs scraping across the floor like nails on a blackboard.
"I'll take you home," he announced, his voice full of false joviality. "If we're lucky, we might get there without drowning in this deluge!" He forced a half-smile in her direction, his eyes still avoiding her worried gaze.
"I'll take her," Asher offered. He nodded towards the doors. "I think you might be needed at the border," he advised, his expression grave.
Alex glanced in Hannah's direction, his expression undecided for a moment, then it cleared and he nodded, running swiftly from the room after his Alpha.
Marcus looked dreadfully uncomfortable, but at least he was able to offer Hannah a genuine smile of reassurance before she left. "Don't worry, Blake will handle it.
Still completely in the dark about what 'it' was, Hannah obediently followed Asher's lead and headed out into the corridor where Doc offered her an awkward pat on the shoulder, his kind eyes meeting hers only briefly as he passed.
"What's going on?" Hannah demanded as they left the hospital behind and crossed through the pack house.
Asher diverted their path towards the kitchen, selecting two apples at random from the fruit bowl and tossing one in her direction. "You know events are getting serious when a group of wolves can spend an entire day together without once uttering the phrase: Where's lunch?" he murmured to himself. His eyes scanned the teenage wolves that had frozen mid-meal when they entered.
Whatever Blake had heard over the pack-link must also have been transmitted to the entire pack. Like she'd travelled back in time to when she'd first arrived at Blackridge, silence fell in the house as they passed through. She felt eyes follow her every move, glancing quickly away whenever she turned in their direction. The teen werewolves watching them both with silent scrutiny. Two outsiders in the heart of their territory.
Hannah stared defiantly back at any who caught her eye. Despite her confident show however, as soon as the heavy front doors closed behind them, she let out a sigh of relief.
Asher chuckled. "I thought you handled that quite well," he told her, taking a bite out of his apple.
"What's going on?" Hannah repeated firmly, determined to be put off no longer.
Asher pursed his lips, his face thoughtful as he took another chunk out of the soft fruit, searching her face keenly. What he was looking for, Hannah didn't know. Eventually, he reached around her and grabbed one of the giant umbrellas from the stand near the door.
Gesturing for her to take his arm, he opened it and prepared to step out into the heavy rain. "The pack has some unexpected visitors," Asher began, expertly guiding her around most of the larger puddles in the square. "They were stopped at the border and Blake has to go deal with them."
Hannah's mind jumped straight to the worst-case scenario. "Your father?" she guessed, her stomach churning. What must he think of me? Maybe he's come to persuade Blake against me? Maybe he's come to send me away?
"My father?" Asher chuckled lightly, sidestepping a particularly large puddle. "No, but I find it fascinating that he manages to incite such a healthy level of fear even amongst those he hasn't even met yet. Firstly, he'd never bother to announce his arrival in such a dramatic fashion and secondly, he'd never be stopped at the border." He leaned in towards her conspiratorially and whispered. "They wouldn't dare."
"Then who?" she asked.
"Visitors from another pack," he replied vaguely and halted their journey to admire one of the extravagant oaks growing in a garden nearby. "I always forget how vivid the colours are here in Autumn," he murmured. "There are few trees that can match the splendour of the oaks for colour."
The rain continued to pound around them, splashing up from the sodden ground to attack their legs from beneath - determined to soak them from the ground up, despite the enormity of the umbrella that sheltered them.
Hannah glared at him in exasperation. "Are there no oak trees in Darkmoon?" she asked with an edge of impatience in her voice, attempting to tug him along. It was like trying to move a mountain.
"Only mine," he replied cryptically. "My forests stretch straight along the western edges of Darkmoon; birches, cedars, hazels... plenty sweet chestnuts. The beaches are the real attraction though."
"Tell me," she tried again. "Do visitors normally incite your brother to break his furniture?"
He shot her a startled glance, finally snapping out of his reverie and allowing her to move him along. He wouldn't be rushed though. He strolled casually up the sodden street, breathing in the crisp autumn air; full of the freshness a good rainfall always brings to the forest.
"Would you believe me if I said yes?" he replied, his lip twitching.
No, of course she wouldn't. Biting back her frustration, she focused on Asher instead. "Your brother told me about a birthday party on a beach when he was a child... I didn't realise he meant your pack." Her mind flitted back to a warm and dimly lit room where a half-naked Blake had confided in her. She blushed.
Asher observed her flushed cheeks with curiosity, but merely nodded. "My father's pack, back then. We had a lot of parties in Darkmoon. Most of our birthdays are clustered together in the summer, you see. Blake is the odd one out. His birthday falls in late winter... no barbeques for him."
"Is your pack far away from Blackridge?" she asked, curiosity distracting her.
"A matter of days," he replied amiably. "Our father's pack is furthest South. Tristan's pack soon, once our father knocks some sense into the council."
"He's stepping down?" Hannah was surprised. From everything she'd learned so far about Avery Hunter, she'd have thought he'd cling onto power for as long as possible.
"That's the plan," Asher grimaced. "At least, it will be. As soon as a few complications have been dealt with."
Complications? "Wha -"
"Blackridge is the furthest north of all the Hunter territories," Asher continued, changing the subject before she could delve any deeper. "Winter reaches these borders first and lasts the longest. I wouldn't be surprised if we don't wake up to a frost in the next few days."
"Won't that complicate things?" A shudder escaped her as her mind flashed back to a hazy memory of a icy, frozen lake.
"Not until the snows arrive," Asher shrugged. "It will be a might harder to hide the wolf tracks at that point. It would be better for everyone if this could be wrapped up before winter really sets in."
Blake's house loomed large on the horizon and they picked up speed towards it, skirting a pool of water so large she wouldn't be surprised if they couldn't soon swim in it. They stopped just shy of the shelter provided by the houses enormous porch and he nodded at the guards posted outside - recent additions to Blake's security.
Hannah ignored them and looked up at Asher, her face full of concern. "You are staying to help them, aren't you?" she asked, searching his face for answers.
He looked at her sadly. "I can't."
"But... why?" She couldn't understand how he could abandon his brother when he needed him the most.
For a moment it looked as though he wouldn't answer, his eyes miles away. But then he cast his sorrowful gaze down to hers and she saw the honesty in his eyes. "This war is bigger Blackridge alone. In reality, this conflict with Elmwood is only a small part of a much bigger puzzle - the first of many battles to come. Our real enemies still hide in the shadows."
He led her up the steps towards the door. The rain finally ceased its relentless attack on their legs, concentrating its efforts on joining the smaller puddles of water together into one almighty pool.
"We need answers, and that's what I do. I find answers. But these 'shadows' are spreading far faster than I can follow and when they finally wash over my territory, I cannot allow them to stand without me."
"But -"
Asher ran one hand through his silvery blond hair and cast a glance at the dark and stormy sky. "My place is at Darkmoon. I'm sorry, but my brother must face this fight alone. I'm leaving in the morning." He took note of her expression of hopelessness. "Don't despair. He's more than capable of facing what's to come. Go on inside. He'll come to you when he's ready."
She hesitated and the guards opened the double doors for her, their expressions neutral as they kept their gazes fixed on the rain strewn street.
"Go on," he repeated.
She hovered in the open doorway as he sauntered away, completely unperturbed by the driving rain. His feet deliberately kicked up waves of standing water as he sloshed back towards the hospital, not even bothering to put the umbrella back up. It was only after they'd closed the door behind her that she realised he'd somehow deflected all her questions about the identity of the visitors at the borders and she remained no closer to understanding why Blake had run out on her.
The hours dragged by relentlessly as she sat alone at the dining room table. Her head resting on her arms, she watched the clock tick the minutes past. Other than the silent guards stationed outside, the house was deserted.
Where Sarah had dragged Sky off to in this weather was a mystery. She'd muttered something at breakfast about 'doing the rounds', and left the house shortly after. Breakfast. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Alone and fretful, she stared wearily at the coarse grain of the table, following its weaving path along the length of the antique surface. There was a feeling she couldn't explain in the back of her mind that left her head feeling tight and full of pressure, as though caught in a vice. The silence was resounding as a barrage of questions swirled around her head.
What had sent Blake barrelling toward the border with such urgency? What news had led to the near destruction of the conference table? Why had his manner changed so suddenly? Why did she feel a steady pull of dread from deep within?
The clock had sluggishly completed four full rotations - each one slower than the last - before Blake finally walked through the front door. She looked up and watched him stalk across the room, droplets of rainwater falling from his damp hair.
His face hadn't softened from the stony exterior he'd exhibited earlier and, although he looked towards her, he deliberately avoided meeting her gaze. He took a seat at the table opposite her.
"We've found your family, Hannah." His voice was devoid of any conceivable emotion. "Or rather, they've found us."
Hannah blinked, shock preventing her mind from processing what he was telling her. "My... family?" she asked, after a painful pause.
"Yes. Your Uncle and" - he paused a moment, his face struggling with some underlying emotion that he quickly got under control - "his son."
My uncle? her mind whispered in mild disbelief. No recollection or memory leapt out at her. A smile formed on her lips. Finally, some answers!
"Your uncle's name is Angus Maclerie. Laird Maclerie, apparently."
"Are you sure?" she whispered. This was a good thing... wasn't it? If it was, why did Blake look like he was fighting for control of his emotions?
"Fairly sure," he shrugged, his face unreadable. "He corrected me three times."
She shook her head. "No, I mean -"
"I know what you meant," he interrupted. His movements stiff and jerky, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. After a moments hesitation, he slid it silently across the table towards her.
She stared at him, afraid to look at it. She'd been searching for her family from the moment she'd lost her memories, so why did she now feel such dread? Her eyes desperately searched his for some reassurance, but she might as well have been seeking comfort from a statue, so still and closed were his features. Her eyes slid reluctantly downwards.
The photo was faded and worn, several years old at least. But she immediately recognised the features of the girl that smiled up at her. Red, untamed hair and deep green eyes.
A stranger with my face, she thought, no significant memory surfacing. Her other self was perched on an outcrop of rocks, the sunlight playing across her face making her hair shine with multiple tones of red hues. She looked happy.
They looked happy, she corrected, forcing herself to examine the boy sat next to her in the photo. His hair matched hers, red and wild. Freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks and his boyish features lit up as he smiled at the camera, his arm casually slung about the girl's shoulders.
"His name is Dylan," Blake offered, his voice brittle like dry wood - liable to snap at any moment. A crack in his otherwise emotionless countenance.
Her heartbeat increased and a dull pain began to develop deep in her chest. She didn't remember him. The first wave of panic washed over her as she tried desperately to make sense of what he was telling her.
"What - I mean... how?" she stammered.
"You were travelling west of here. Back to your pack in Scotland, I understand -"
"I have a pack?" she interrupted, unable to conceal her surprise. So, her nightmares had just been that then. Nightmares, not memories. The revelation should have filled her with relief, but she couldn't shake the pain in her chest, nor the answering drum of the headache slowly forming behind her eyes.
"Yes," Blake confirmed stiffly. "Well, sort of. You're transferring from one pack to another. You were ambushed by rogues on the road. From the sounds of things, the same rogues that have been attacking our borders." His lips tightened into a thin line. "Your Uncle was badly injured and you were... taken. Apparently," he added under his breath. "By some miracle, you must have escaped them, fled and ended up here."
With you, she finished silently, her heart constricting painfully. "Why didn't they look for me?"
He flinched. Such a small movement, she nearly didn't catch it, but the tiny recoil heightened her feeling of unease to almost unbearable levels.
What aren't you telling me?
"They thought you were dead," he offered cautiously, the lock to his jaw revealing how hard he was finding it to hold his emotions in check. "As I said, your uncle was badly injured and your" - another pause - "cousin couldn't tend him and search for you at the same time. He knew it was hopeless. At least, he thought it was."
"I don't understand."
"He didn't know it was possible to lose your wolf." Blake frowned as he spoke, a hesitation in his voice as though he was thinking each word through very carefully before allowing it go join the others. "If he had, he wouldn't have given up hope. It's only when they heard about a girl matching your description, with no memory that they dared to believe..." His voice trailed off as though his will to continue had vanished.
She froze as a terrible thought occurred to her. "How did they find me?"
He was silent a moment, but the look in his eyes gave her his answer before he'd even uttered it. "Syrus."
"The Alpha of Elmwood?" she whispered. His enemy. The Alpha of a pack she'd just spent all day listening to him planning a war against.
He nodded. A stiff jerk of his head as though the acknowledgment caused him physical pain. "They found your Uncle after the attack. Took him in until his wounds healed."
She opened her mouth with shock, the drumming in her head picking up pace. "But... he said he didn't recognise my picture!" she exclaimed. "He lied!"
"Technically, he didn't," Blake bit out, a hint of bitterness breaking through his cold countenance. "They never showed him a photograph."
"He can't have not known it was me," she argued incredulously. How many redheaded Scottish girls were there wandering about these woods?
"Of course not," he scoffed, disgust underlying his words. "But Syrus never gives anything away without some form of payment. Your family had nothing to give. I guess he decided our alliance was worth the sudden recall of his memory."
"Wait." She shook her head, instinct telling her there was more to the story. "I still don't understand. Why did they think I was dead when there was no body? No proof? Why didn't they search for me?"
The Alpha stood up without warning, the chair tipping backwards in his haste to vacate it. He caught it with one hand and righted it carefully, his eyes avoiding hers at all cost.
A cold shaft of ice ran through her as she tried, and failed, to read his closed expression. "Blake?" she said as calmly as her nerves would let her. "What aren't you telling me?"
"The son," he said eventually, looking anywhere but at her. "Dylan. He claims you... as his true mate."
Time stopped as she stared at him in horror.
"When you lost your wolf, your bond also severed... at least, he can't feel it any more. It's a physical pain unlike any other. Usually this only happens when a mate dies. So, he assumed they'd killed you."
"Wait." She clutched one hand to her chest, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. "No. He's my cousin. That's not possible..." She stared down at the photo of the smiling couple. "Is it?"
"It's rare... But apparently, yes," Blake reluctantly admitted. "I have people looking into it," he added, under his breath, so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't yet noticed her developing hysteria. "Your Uncle claims you were travelling back to Scotland for the ceremony. Apparently, you have some kind of claim to land over there and - "
"I don't... I can't..." Air. There seemed to be a distinct lack of it in the room. The walls began to spin alarmingly as she struggled to pull the oxygen into her lungs. She should be happy. She should be joyous. Finding her family. Remembering her past. These were things she'd craved since the first moment she'd realised she'd lost them. So why did she feel like she was suffocating under the weight of everything he was telling her?
Why can't I breathe?
Because finding them means losing him, the voice in the back of her mind told her.
"Hannah?" His voice, softer now that he'd realised her level of distress, drifted towards her from far away. "Listen to me."
She sucked in a gulp of air and tried to focus on his face, hovering anxiously in front of her own. Somehow, once again, he'd crossed the space between them, cupping her head in his hands. The sensation of his skin against hers inexplicably calmed her and she felt her pulse slow under his touch.
"You need time to process this," he was telling her, watching the colour return slowly to her cheeks. "I'll persuade them to wait until tomorrow. You can meet them. Talk. Maybe find some answers."
He finally met her gaze and her heart shattered as she registered the pain buried in their depths. A pain he held at bay only by his extraordinary strength and determination. A dark flicker changed the colour of his irises as she held his stare. Rothan; the wolf's anguish begging for a release Blake could not allow.
He leaned back as she calmed down. "Would you like to know who you are?" he asked her, his voice gentle despite his set features.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"You were born in the Lachlan pack, just shy of Loch Lomond, Scotland. Your father was Alpha Lachlan," he whispered softly. "And your name - your real name - is Eleanor."