Chapter 110
Again, the strands of light stretched out in front of me, but this time the line moved like a train, following its tracks. The darkness turned into a riot of color, and the images were screaming so quickly that I felt sick to my stomach. I no longer had the control I had before.
The only thing that held me anchored in the wave was Derrick's words.
His promise hurt all over me, and when I realized that his fury hadn't rendered him immune to the mate link as I had assumed but had instead made him sick to think that he could still love me in spite of everything I had done, I could feel the struggle in his tone, almost begging.
A static image replaced the hues as the darkness faded.
Much of what transpired on the day of their deaths escaped my memory. You would think that I would remember every single thing that happened that day—every action, every phrase, every factor that contributed to my mate's parents' death—but I had put it all to the back of my memory, and as the years went by, trying to forget, I was unable to remember anything.
I knew that much because I had been there. Even when I forced the memory to surface again, my mind refused to look at it; all I could remember was the pain and the blood. I couldn't have told him the truth about what had really happened that day, even if he had asked me with enough confidence. Nothing I could recall from that day was important.
In my mind, that day was a black hole, and as time went on, I came to believe that I was solely to blame.
A massive glass and wood edifice surrounded by towering evergreen trees stood before us. In comparison to the pack house I was now familiar with, it was an entirely different structure situated on an entirely different continent.
Once more, Derrick materialized at my side, his body at least a meter away from me. His jaw tightened in recognition as he fixed his gaze on the sight before him, his hands balling into fists.
It was evident that he had grown up in a pack home, but I didn't.
As the image started to move, a small child with multiple bruises and a shortness of breath materialized in front of us. When she turned to look behind her, Derrick turned too, and my heart thudded out of beat because I knew who it was.
When I was eleven years old, I ran toward the pack house as if my life depended on it. Her movements caused us to feel as though a strong wind was blowing through our limbs, and we could feel her anxiety and dread. I couldn't recall much of my early years without being covered in bruises and blood; the majority of my recollections were of my mother locking me up in the basement.
Derrick watched her stumble in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the other me, a grimace pressing across his brow. He watched her torpedo through the space, her objectives obvious as she slammed doors and whirled around rooms.
When she eventually found what she had come for and arrived at a familiar door, her back straightened.
Breathing hard, I observed her, wondering if this was the way I had killed them right there in their home by tearing through it. A youngster whose mother had given her orders and trained her to follow them without question. Was that my past self, and if so, why had I made the effort to let it go?
His queen was leaning over his chair, her hands pressing against his shoulders, as the former alpha king sat behind his desk. They were at ease in each other's arms until I arrived and ruined the whole thing. I held my breath, waiting to see what action I should take next, but both Derrick and I were completely wrong.
The little girl walked with unwavering purpose, disregarding her wounds as she placed a chest of drawers in front of the door she had just burst through. She then stood in the center of the room, considering her next course of action.
She dashed back to the walls, pressing her face against the wallpaper, and ran her hands over its design while the king and queen gazed in disbelief. Her power ignited in her fingertips, casting a shielding spell against the walls; the king and queen had not seen her maneuver.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" With her companion holding her hand tightly, Luna questioned her hesitantly. Perplexed by a question she had never been asked before, the tiny girl turned to face the voice.
"She's coming." With a whisper, the girl retreated back to the center of the room. "You need to hide; it is the only thing that will save you." The young girl begged the two seniors in front of her in a desperate manner, but they were only able to see the bruised girl and not the wider picture of the situation.
The alpha king let out a sigh upon seeing his mate's endearing expression. The queen untangled herself from him and walked over to the small child, giving him a look he could not resist.
They did not take her advice seriously.
"Oh, honey—look at the state of you; who did this?" The queen took the tiny girl's hand, and I recoiled at the touch. The magic that had been about to attempt to shield me from danger never materialized and sent an electric shock through both of them.
I observed my little figure, observing how her lips quivered and her body sagged as she felt the urge to express her anguish, but over the years she had come to realize that crying would not help her.
"Please!" The queen was in front of her when she begged. "I tried to put up a protection spell, but I don't think it's going to hold for long. You need to get out of here before she hurts you too." The queen held onto her hand tightly as she turned back to her mate and sister with him in secret via their mate bond.