Riley Hayes POV
Riley wakes up screaming again.
The nightmares come without warning. She's back in the forest. Back being hunted. Back feeling the burn of silver tearing through her body. Her voice rips out of her throat and she can't stop it. Can't breathe. Can't remember where she is or why everything hurts.
Then the door opens.
Garrett is there before she can finish the second scream. He's not in his alpha form or anything scary. He's just a man in dark clothes moving quickly toward her bed. He doesn't grab her or try to shake her out of it. He just sits down slowly and waits for her to realize he's there.
It takes a few seconds for Riley's mind to catch up with her body. The forest fades. The fear recedes. She's in the small room with the white ceiling. She's safe. She's alive. She's with the man who saved her even though he's supposed to be her enemy.
"It's okay," Garrett says quietly. "You're safe. You're in Blackthorn territory. I've got you."
Riley's breathing slows. She looks at his face in the dim light from the hallway and realizes she's not afraid anymore. Not of him anyway. He's been bringing her food for days now. Days that blend together in a way that makes it hard to count them.
"How many?" she asks, her voice hoarse from screaming.
"How many what?"
"How many times have you come in here when I had nightmares?"
Garrett thinks about it. "Every time. I sleep in the room next door. I hear you."
Riley processes that. He's been listening to her scream. Night after night. Instead of being disturbed by it, something inside her settles. Someone is listening. Someone knows she's breaking and doesn't leave her alone.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Garrett stands up. "I'm going to get you water. You need to drink more."
He leaves before she can respond. Riley lies back and touches her shoulder where the pain used to be. It's still there but different now. Healing instead of burning. That's Garrett's doing too. He explained on the second day that his alpha blood could speed the healing process. That the silver had poisoned her and he needed to fight the poison with his own power.
He'd bit his wrist and held it to her mouth without asking permission. Just did it like her survival mattered more than her dignity.
And it worked.
By the third day, the infection was gone. By the fourth day, she could sit up without gasping. By today, whatever day it is, she can almost move without wincing. Almost.
Garrett comes back with a glass of water. He watches while she drinks it. He does this with everything. Brings something. Stays. Watches. Makes sure she actually does what he suggested. Riley used to find it controlling. Now she understands it's care. He just shows it in quiet ways.
"I can't remember anything," she says after she hands him back the glass. "Every time I try, it's like reaching into fog. There's nothing there."
"The healers said your mind is protecting you," Garrett says. He pulls the chair closer and sits down like they do this every day. Which they do. This conversation or some version of it has happened multiple times. "Trauma does that sometimes. It shuts down memory to protect the body while it heals."
"Will I remember eventually?"
"Probably."
"What if I don't want to remember? What if whoever I was before isn't someone I like?"
Garrett's expression shifts. Something crosses his face like he's remembering something. Like he understands what it means to dislike who you are.
"Then you get to decide who you want to become," he says simply.
Riley thinks about that. The idea that she could be someone new. That the memories she's lost don't define her future. It's both terrifying and hopeful in a way she can't explain.
The silence between them isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence that exists between people who don't need words. Garrett sets the empty glass on the nightstand and stands to leave.
"Wait," Riley says. "Stay. Just for a little bit longer."
He could refuse. He should probably refuse. But he sits back down and they just sit there in the darkness while Riley's heart does something complicated in her chest.
The next morning, the door opens to chaos.
A woman bursts in with clothes piled in her arms and a smile so bright it hurts to look at.
"Oh my god, you're awake," the woman says. "I'm Maya. I'm a warrior in the pack and also apparently your new best friend because Garrett said you needed one and I take my assignments very seriously."
Riley blinks. This is the opposite of Garrett's quiet patience. This is energy and noise and immediate friendship.
"Hi," Riley manages.
Maya dumps the clothes on the bed. "These should fit. You're about my size I think. I'm giving you the good stuff too. None of the scratchy training gear. You're getting actual comfortable clothes because you deserve comfort after being shot multiple times with silver bullets which is metal as hell and also terrible and also I'm really sorry that happened to you."
Riley laughs. It's the first time she's laughed since waking up. It comes out rusty but real.
For the next three days, Maya becomes her lifeline to something other than Garrett. Maya brings her food and eats with her. Maya tells her stories about pack life. Maya teaches her how to walk by basically bullying her into standing up and trying.
Maya also watches Riley with knowing eyes whenever Garrett shows up.
"He's not usually like this," Maya says one afternoon while Garrett is in meetings. "He's usually cold. Like ice cold. Like terrifying cold. But with you he's different. He's almost... human."
"I don't know what he wants from me," Riley admits.
"I think he's still figuring that out," Maya says carefully. "But whatever it is, he's willing to go to war for it. And Garrett doesn't do anything halfway."
That night, Garrett brings her dinner like he does every night. But this time Riley asks the question she's been avoiding.
"How long have I been here?"
Garrett's hands still. It's the first time she's seen him hesitate about answering something.
"A week," he finally says.
Riley's heart rate picks up. A week. That's seven days. Seven days of healing and conversations and learning to trust someone. Seven days her pack hasn't come for her.
"That's a long time," she says carefully. "Surely they're looking for me. Surely someone noticed I was gone."
Garrett doesn't answer right away. He sets the food down and looks at her with something like pity in his eyes. And Riley knows before he even speaks what he's about to say. Can feel it in the way his shoulders tense.
"They're not looking," Garrett says quietly. "Either they don't know you're here or they don't want you back."
The words hit Riley like a physical blow. She can't breathe for a second. Can't process what he's saying. She's been assuming her pack is desperately searching for her. That Erik is tearing apart territories to find her. That she matters enough to be missed.
But no one is coming.
No one is looking.
No one wants her back.
Riley feels something break inside her chest. It's the kind of breaking that leaves pieces. Sharp pieces. Painful pieces. She's been abandoned by the people who were supposed to be her family.
She looks at Garrett sitting across from her and realizes with terrible clarity that this stranger has done more for her in a week than the people she belonged to ever did.
"Why did you save me?" she whispers.
Garrett leans forward. His grey eyes are intense and full of something Riley is afraid to name.
"Because," he says softly, "no one was supposed to let you die alone in the dark."