“That is Her Majesty, Josie, and her King, Mark,” John elucidates.
“Pleasure,” I smile at everyone.
The Queen scrutinises me momentarily but ultimately extends a kind greeting and invites me to sit. Jadi begins to speak but refrains, pursing his lips and gripping his hands at his sides as he sits by his mate and mother.
“I think it’s best if my wife delivers her tale to you, Jadi, before you ask any questions,” John explains, turning to me. “Is that okay, hun?
I have become accustomed to elucidating my circumstances to John’s associates previously, so this is not atypical for me; nonetheless, Jadi’s anguished gaze renders this more challenging than normal. Clearing my throat, I commence with my earliest recollection.
“Regrettably, my recollections are sparse. Several years prior, I regained consciousness in a hospital, devoid of any memories regarding my identity or the circumstances leading to my arrival. The physicians diagnosed me with dissociative amnesia, as I believe,” I express apologetically, hoping to alleviate Jadi’s sorrow as I elucidate my situation. “John was present when I first opened my eyes. He harboured considerable animosity towards me for awakening,” I remark with a chuckle, recalling John’s mischievous smirk as he kissed my hand. “He informed me that I had perished, yet inexplicably, I returned…” I conclude, still grappling with the narrative myself.
John exhales deeply and elaborates on the circumstances surrounding my ascent.
“After I ordered the hit during King Arthur’s birthday party, I requested that my wolves bring me back her body as proof of her death. As she was being transported to Stonecold, she sat up in the back of the van, the wound on her neck completely healed,” John adds with emphasis. “My wolves told me she was awake for a while, but it was as if she were in limbo, not really ‘here’ at all. She said nothing, just sat up like a stone the entire ride to Stonecold. My wolves were terrified of her so they didn’t even try to touch her until they arrived at the pack hospital. A doctor came to check her out and she fell into a deep coma a couple minutes into the examination,” he shrugs. “I was tempted to kill her…” he adds with a chuckle as I smack his arm playfully, Jadi watching curiously. “But then I realized Moon Goddess would not have bestowed the gift of life to her again without good reason. She must have a bigger plan for her. So… rather than kill her, I kept Olivia, or rather Quinn, as my prisoner until I could figure out what that reason was,” he says, pulling out my smoky quartz stone from his pocket. “I am sure Noel has his spies so I’ve had Quinn wear this fae enchanted stone to mask her appearance whenever she leaves the pack house. It’s kept her safe from being spotted for the last 20 years.”
I cast a peek at Jadi and observe him gazing at me with profound emotion, engrossed in every word of my narrative.
“I did not perceive myself as a prisoner,” I remark with a smile. “Upon awakening from my coma, I was provided with a comfortable room and permitted to explore the pack house at my leisure. Additionally, I enjoyed the company of Matt, who visited daily to share meals or engage in board games,” I elucidate, patting Matt’s shoulder, although he seems preoccupied, his gaze fixed on Melina.
How odd… I sigh.
“John would also come to visit a lot, asking me if I could remember anything about my past but never giving me much information about myself.”
“The doctors told me it was best not to force you to remember,” John grumbles grumpily. “I was only doing what I was told.”
“And I thank you very much for protecting me,” I reply, reaching over and pecking him on the lips to Jadi’s horror.
Why does it seem my relationship with John hurts him so much?
“I’m afraid not many memories have come back since I’ve woken up. I know my name was once Olivia and I was once a Moonlit wolf. I don’t have a Moonlit wolf anymore, but I have a wolf nonetheless. A very gentle one named Tinka. John tells me I was a Luna for his rival pack, but I go by Quinn now. It feels… more me. Sometimes I get these recurring dreams, but they don’t really feel like dreams; they’re more like little fragments or hints of my memory…. And you are always in them,” I smile at Jadi, several tears rolling down his cheeks. “Although you are much bigger now,” I laugh. “You used to read poetry to me and we would watch the butterflies flutter by,” I smile. “I-I don’t remember who you are… but every memory with you is always beautiful and I look forward to dreaming more about you. I don’t know much about Olivia in her past life, but I know she was happiest with you… so thank you. Thank you for making her life so special.”
Jadi looks away to conceal his face from me, and the guilt resurfaces, prompting a desire to recall his identity.
“Don’t feel bad,” John reminds me, catching hold of my hand and squeezing it. “This is all my fault, not yours. I did this to you.”
The anguish in Jadi’s heart, however, complicates my ability to resist my guilt.
“Who am I to you?” I murmur, anticipating that a clue from Jadi may trigger my recollection of his identity.
Unable to endure his torment any further, Jadi abruptly departs from the table, only to be halted by the Queen, her authority palpable even to me.
“Therefore, cease,” she exclaims, Jadi’s grasp on the doorknob intensifying, causing his knuckles to blanch. “This is challenging for her as well.”
John sighs heavily, as he often does when something is weighing heavily on his mind. “You’re his mother, Ry.”
