Betrayed by My Alpha Mate

The nightmares began three nights after my visit to the wolf sanctuary.

At first, they were just flashes—a child's cry echoing through darkness, the metallic scent of blood, my own voice screaming apologies to someone I couldn't see. I'd wake with my heart hammering against my ribs, sweat-soaked sheets clinging to my skin, and that familiar ache in my scarred hand.

But each night, the images grew clearer. More vivid. More terrifying.

Tonight, I saw my hands—definitely my hands, with the distinctive scar across my palm—covered in crimson. A small figure lay crumpled in the corner of what looked like a nursery, crying in a voice that tore through my soul. And there was something else—a wolf, gray and white like Hope, whimpering as it tried to crawl away from me.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself sobbing in the dream. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

I jolted awake, my own voice still echoing in the empty room. The clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM, but I couldn't bear the thought of closing my eyes again. Instead, I sat up, pressing my palms against my temples as if I could physically push the images away.

Were these memories? Or was my damaged mind creating horrors to fill the gaps in my past?

The uncertainty was eating me alive.

By the fourth night, I'd given up on sleep entirely. I spent the dark hours pacing the small living room, making tea I didn't drink, staring out at the moonlit forest and trying to understand why every shadow seemed to whisper accusations.

Cole noticed, of course. He always noticed.

"You look exhausted," he said over breakfast, his voice carefully gentle. "Are you sleeping?"

"Fine," I lied, pushing scrambled eggs around my plate. "Just adjusting to the idea of bringing Hope home."

His eyes searched my face with that intensity that always made me feel transparent. "Nora—"

"I said I'm fine." The words came out sharper than I intended, and I saw him flinch. "Sorry. I'm just... tired."

He was quiet for a long moment, then stood abruptly. "Wait here."

I heard him moving around in his office, the sound of drawers opening and closing, papers rustling. When he returned, he carried a manila envelope that looked worn from handling.

"I think it's time," he said, settling back into his chair. "You've been asking questions, and maybe... maybe you deserve some answers."

My pulse quickened. "What kind of answers?"

Instead of responding, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of photographs. The first one he placed on the table made my breath catch.

It was me—or someone who looked exactly like me—in a white dress that seemed to glow in candlelight. I was laughing, my head thrown back in pure joy, while Cole's arms wrapped around me from behind. His face was buried in my neck, and even in the still image, I could see the reverence in his posture.

"Who is this?" I whispered, though part of me already knew the answer would shatter something inside me.

"Look closer," Cole said softly.

I picked up the photo with trembling fingers. The woman's face was mine—not similar, not close, but exactly mine. Down to the small freckle beside my left eye and the way my smile tilted slightly higher on one side.

"I don't understand," I breathed.

Cole placed another photo beside the first. This one showed the same woman—me—holding a tiny baby with dark hair and Cole's distinctive green eyes. The love on my face was so profound it made my chest ache with longing for something I couldn't name.

"And this one." Another photo. Me in casual clothes, sitting in what looked like this very kitchen, feeding the baby while Cole watched us both with an expression of such tender devotion it made tears spring to my eyes.

Each image felt like a punch to the gut. I recognized the settings—this house, the pack grounds, even Cole's office in the background of one shot. But I couldn't remember any of it. These moments of apparent happiness, this life of love and family, were completely foreign to me.

"Stop," I gasped, pushing the photos away. "Stop, please."

"Nora—"

"Who is she?" I demanded, even as my rational mind screamed the impossible truth. "Who is this woman who looks exactly like me? Who lives in my house, with my... with you?"

Cole's face crumpled with a pain so raw it took my breath away. "She's you, little wolf. This is you."

"That's impossible." But even as I said it, I was reaching for the photos again, drawn to these glimpses of a life I couldn't remember. "I would remember being this happy. I would remember having a child."

"You were," he whispered. "And you did."

The room tilted around me. "Where is she? The baby—where is she now?"

Cole's silence stretched between us like a chasm, and in that moment, the fragments of my nightmares began to shift into a terrifying new pattern.