Their Forgotten Luna

Shattered Wolf

Cierra-

I woke in a sterile room to find my wolf gone, my memories in fragments, and one chilling thought burning through the haze: if I’d been hurt like this, the pack must have been attacked.

Panic skittered beneath my skin. Cold sweat broke out on my neck, soaking into the collar of my gown. My breathing picked up, sharp and uneven.

What am I without my wolf?

I didn’t know what had happened. Everything was just… fragments. A party. A silver dress. Screaming. Blood. Hands—clawed, snarling. Fangs.

Had that been me?

I looked at my hands. Scraped. Bruised. Bloodied. Pain flared in my ribs when I flexed my fingers. Bandages wrapped my stomach and chest, stiff beneath the hospital gown.

Had I been—

“Cierra?”

The voice jolted me.

I turned my head—slowly, like it was full of water—and saw him—a man. Young, tall, broad shoulders bent forward as if he was carrying something heavy. Dark eyes that seemed to ache when they met mine.

He stood when he saw I was awake. “You’re up.”

I stared. His voice stirred something—like a scent from a half-forgotten dream. But I didn’t know him. Did I?

“Do I… know you?” My voice was rough, uncertain.

He froze for a heartbeat before nodding. “Yeah. You do.”

He moved closer, pulling a chair to my bedside. “Don’t push yourself. You’ve been through hell.”

“I don’t remember anything,” I admitted, my throat tight. “Just pieces. Like looking through glass underwater.”

“That’s okay.” His tone was calm, but his hands clenched into fists. “You were hurt. Badly. You’ve been out for a few days.”

“How long?” I whispered.

“Three days.” He poured water and held it to my lips. “You lost a lot of blood. A rib punctured your lung. Internal bleeding. You… coded once.”

I paused mid-sip, the word echoing. “I died?”

His gaze dropped. “We got you back.”

I set the glass aside. “I should be healing. My wolf should’ve fixed this already.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

I turned away, shame burning my chest. “She’s gone,” I whispered. “I can’t feel her. I can’t hear her. I’ve never—never been without her.”

He leaned forward. “You didn’t lose her. She’s still in there.”

“You don’t know that,” I snapped, sharper than I meant. “What if she’s gone for good? What if I shift and nothing happens? What if I’m not me anymore?” My voice cracked, and hot tears blurred the room. “What if I can’t feel anything ever again?”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached for me, pulling me gently into his chest. “You’re still you, Cierra,” he murmured against my temple. “You’re still the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

I swallowed hard. “I know you. I don’t remember why, but I know you.”

“That’s right,” he said quietly. “You know me.”

I pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Dominic,” he said after a beat, like the word itself hurt.

Something twisted inside me. I tried to sit up again, the urgency in my chest growing. “I need to—”

“No,” His tone cut through my protest. “You scared the hell out of me when you stopped breathing. I’m not letting you push yourself.”

My breath caught. His sincerity left me defenseless.

He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll be here. As long as you need.”

And somehow, I believed him.

Before he could ease me back, my hands found his face. Our eyes locked. I kissed him.

It started soft—hesitant—then caught fire. I didn’t mean to, but it felt like gravity had done it for me. His lips were warm, firm, achingly familiar.

“I don’t remember your laugh… or your voice,” I murmured when we broke apart, “but my heart does.”

His hand stayed on my cheek. “That’s all that matters right now.”

When I finally drifted off again, it wasn’t from pain or fear—it was from the safety of his arms around me, anchoring me to the version of myself I was still trying to find.