Freda's POV
The journey back to Greystone Pack was a blur of pain and determination. Every step felt like a battle against my body’s protests, but I pushed forward, clinging to the thought of my child and the life I needed to reclaim. The forest loomed around me, its familiar scent a mix of comfort and dread. When the pack’s gates came into view, my heart raced, torn between relief and trepidation.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the gates that once symbolized safety. Now, they felt like the walls of a prison, a place where I’d been betrayed and abandoned. But I had no choice. I needed answers, closure, and my life back. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped forward.
The guards at the entrance stiffened at my approach. Their eyes widened in recognition before narrowing in suspicion. One of them stepped forward, blocking my path.
“Freda?” His voice was filled with disbelief. “You’re supposed to be…” He trailed off, his expression unreadable.
“Dead?” I finished for him, my voice sharp. “Well, I’m not. Now move.”
He exchanged a glance with his companion but stepped aside. I didn’t wait for further discussion, pushing past them and heading straight for the pack’s main hall. My heart pounded with every step, each one bringing me closer to the confrontation I both dreaded and craved.
The sound of celebration hit me first. Laughter, music, and the hum of voices filled the air as I neared the grand hall. My steps faltered, confusion washing over me. What could they possibly be celebrating?
When I reached the hall’s entrance, the answer hit me like a blow to the chest. Willard stood at the center of the room, his arm wrapped around Sybil. Her radiant smile matched the glow of the ceremonial garb she wore. Around them, the pack cheered and applauded. A wedding. They were celebrating their union.
My vision blurred, my mind refusing to process the scene before me. The man who had promised me the world was standing there, binding himself to someone else as if I had never existed. My hands clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
“Willard...” I stepped into the hall, the noise dimming as those closest to me noticed my presence. Whispers spread like wildfire, heads turning to follow their gaze. Willard’s eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by confusion and…disdain.
“Who is this?” he asked, his voice cold and detached. “A rogue?”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on me. A rogue. He didn’t know me. He didn’t recognize me. The realization hit me harder than the crash that had brought me here.
“Willard,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s me. It’s Freda.”
His brow furrowed, and he turned to Sybil, who placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Guards, remove her.”
“No!” I cried, stepping forward. “You know me, Willard. We were…we were everything to each other! How can you not remember?”
The guards moved to grab me, but I fought against them, desperation fueling my strength. “Please! You have to remember! I—”
“Enough!” Willard’s voice boomed, silencing the room. He stepped closer, his expression hard. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you’re not welcome. Leave, now.”
Tears streamed down my face as the guards dragged me toward the exit. The pack’s whispers grew louder, their judgmental eyes burning into me. I looked back one last time, hoping for some sign, some shred of the man I had loved. But Willard’s gaze remained cold, his arm tightening around Sybil.
Outside the hall, the guards released me, their expressions a mix of pity and contempt. I stumbled away, my legs weak and my heart shattered. The realization that Willard truly didn’t remember me—or worse, didn’t care—left me hollow.
As I reached the edge of the forest, a familiar figure stepped into view. Tina, one of the pack’s servants and my only friend during my time here, rushed to my side.
“Freda,” she whispered, her voice filled with urgency. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come back.”
I shook my head, my words failing me. Tina’s expression softened, and she guided me to a nearby log, sitting beside me.
“Willard…he doesn’t remember you,” she said carefully. “After the accident, he was in a coma. When he woke up, he…he lost parts of his memory. Everything about you is gone.”
The truth felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “And no one told him?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Tina hesitated, then shook her head. “Helen didn’t want him to know. She said it would only confuse him, and with Sybil helping him recover…”
Of course. Helen. Willard’s mother had always hated me, blaming me for every misfortune that befell their family. She must have seen this as the perfect opportunity to erase me from his life entirely.
“I’ll find a way,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “I’ll make him remember. I have to.”
Tina’s grip on my arm tightened. “Be careful, Freda. Helen won’t let you back into his life so easily.”
As Tina’s warning echoed in my mind, a new resolve took root. I wouldn’t let Helen or anyone else keep me from the truth. I would make Willard remember—no matter the cost.
