Valentine With The Amnesia Alpha

Deep in the thick forest, shadows shifted as three men crouched behind massive trees, their breaths slow, their intentions darker than the night itself. Their eyes darted toward the rustling sounds of leaves in the distance, waiting. Patient. Predatory.

The rustling grew louder, and then she appeared—a girl running blindly through the undergrowth, her sobs slicing through the still air. Behind her, a tall man followed, his voice strained, desperate.

"Eva! Stop running, please. Just listen to me! Even if I'm not your mate, we can still—"

"Stop!" she screamed, spinning around to face him, her chest heaving with each breath. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to be your friend anymore! I've done that for eighteen years, and I thought—" Her voice cracked. "I thought today, on my birthday, everything would change. I thought I'd finally know if you were my mate. But there's nothing! No bond. No scent. Nothing!"

Her voice broke completely as tears poured down her cheeks.

"It's not fair," she whispered bitterly. "Why can't Lycans find their mates at eighteen like wolves? Why do we have to wait until twenty-one? Why do I have to wait for you?"

The man stopped a few steps away, his expression softening. He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug despite her resistance.

"Two more weeks, Eva," he said quietly. "Two weeks, and I'll turn twenty-one. Maybe then, everything will make sense. Maybe then I'll know for sure. If you're my mate, I'll feel the bond. You just have to trust me. If you haven't found your mate yet, it could be because I can't scent mine yet either." He hesitated, his voice faltering. "Unless… unless you meet someone else. If that happens, then—"

"Then I'm not your mate," she finished for him, her voice hollow.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide, pleading. "But what if you do find your mate when you turn twenty-one? What happens to me? Would you reject her to be with me?"

His jaw tightened, the weight of her question pressing hard against him.

"I don't know," he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't promise you something I don't know I can keep. I don't want to lie to you."

Her tears came faster now, and her voice was a broken whisper. "Do you even love me?"

Before he could answer, the sound of an arrow cutting through the air shattered the moment.

"Get down!" he roared, spinning around and shielding her with his body as the arrow buried itself deep in his shoulder. The burn of wolfsbane spread through his veins like wildfire, weakening him instantly.

"Stay down, Eva," he growled through gritted teeth, scanning the shadows.

From the darkness, three men emerged, their faces twisted into cruel smiles. Each carried a weapon—a dagger gleaming with silver, a bow strung with another arrow, and a thick chain.

He staggered forward, his teeth bared. "Run, Eva! Now!"

But she stayed frozen, trembling and crying, her back pressed against a tree. "I'm not leaving you!"

"You have to!" he shouted, lunging at the closest attacker. "Find someone—tell them! Tell them rogues are here!"

The fight was brutal. He was outnumbered and already weakened by the wolfsbane, but he fought with everything he had. His claws slashed, his teeth snapped, and for a moment, it seemed like he might have a chance.

But then a blade caught him in the stomach.

"Ahhh!" he cried out, stumbling backward as blood poured from the wound.

"Run!" he screamed again, his voice desperate as he swung wildly to keep the attackers at bay.

With the last of his strength, he turned and bolted deeper into the forest, leading the rogues away from Eva.

The pain was excruciating. Each step sent fire shooting through his body, his vision blurring as blood soaked his shirt. But he didn't stop, not until he reached the edge of a cliff.

The ocean stretched out below, vast and merciless, waves crashing against jagged rocks. He turned, his back to the edge, as the rogues closed in.

"Got nowhere to run now, do you?" one of them sneered, raising his bow.

His breathing was ragged, his legs trembling. There was no escape. If he stayed, they would kill him here and now. If he jumped, there was a slim chance he could survive.

The archer loosed the arrow, and he twisted to avoid it, but the motion sent him stumbling backward. His foot slipped on the loose gravel, and for a split second, he teetered on the edge.

Then gravity took over.

The world tilted, the sky and sea spinning as he fell. The last thing he felt was the icy sting of salt water engulfing him, dragging him down into the abyss.

Darkness swallowed him whole.