Dane's Shadow
1184 Words
Dane:
They say you don’t realize what you’ve done until it’s too late.
That’s a lie.
I knew the second I ran. I knew the moment I left her bleeding in the courtyard while rogues tore through everything.
Her scream was louder than the chaos.
I can still see it—the way her fingers clawed at the ground like she still wanted to live. The way she looked at me before she fell.
And I didn’t move.
Alyssa had screamed, and my legs had moved toward her. Not because I loved her. Not because she meant more.
It was fear. Cowardice. Reflex.
And maybe… maybe I wanted out.
Cierra wasn’t soft like Alyssa. She was fire. Steel under lace. She saw me in ways that made me question the parts I kept buried.
Now she was hurt; she had died once.
“She’ll recover.”
Beta Ronan didn’t look up from his scroll, voice clipped and cold. “She’s strong. The healer said she’s stable. She’ll be up within the week.”
I clenched my fists. “She was nearly torn apart.”
He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And yet she lived. What more do you want? A funeral? Mourning? Sympathy?” He took a slow sip of whiskey. “She was reckless. Should’ve left the fighting to the guards.”
“She was the guard!” I snapped. “She saved Alyssa. She fought until her lungs collapsed.”
“For her pride,” Ronan said flatly. “And she nearly cost this family its Luna status.”
“She almost died—”
“And what would you have done, Dane?” His voice sharpened, cold as steel. “If you were Alpha, and your mate was bleeding beside your lover? You chose the wolf who could be controlled—the one who survives. Cierra has always been a liability.”
My wolf growled low in my mind.
“She’s not a pawn,” I said through clenched teeth.
“She was,” Ronan sneered. “Now she’s a burden.”
I turned without another word, swallowing the rage that threatened to consume me. I left before I shifted and tore that smug look off his face.
Outside, the air was thick with smoke and blood. Repairs were underway, and guards were posted everywhere. But all I could see was her—Cierra. Standing in her shredded gown, snarling like a queen. Cierra, bleeding in the dirt. Cierra, fading.
And me? I ran. I found Dominic outside the infirmary.
“She’s awake?” I asked.
He didn’t look up. Just nodded.
“Did she ask for me?”
His jaw tightened. “No.”
He stood and squared his shoulders. “She remembers nothing. Nothing at all.”
I blinked. “Nothing?”
Dominic’s eyes locked on mine, hard and cold. “Not a thing.”
The words hit me harder than any blow I’d taken in the ring.
“You don’t deserve her,” he said, voice low, edged with something dangerous.
I met his gaze evenly. “And you do?”
He smirked, bitter. “I stayed. I fought for her. Unlike you.”
I stepped closer, voice low but fierce. “You think just being here means you own her?”
His laugh was sharp. “I don’t own her. But I know her. More than you ever could.”
“Is that why you’ve been at her side every day?” I pressed.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “I stayed because she needed someone. Because she’s not a toy for you to pick up when it’s convenient for you to play with.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because I was scared of mating her. But I’m here now.”
“Well, you’re late,” he spat. “Too late to be the hero. Too late to undo what you did.”
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “I’m not giving up on her.”
Dominic stepped back, his voice icy. “She’s better off with a stranger.”
I ignored him, walking inside. The infirmary was quiet. Sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains, casting pale gold across the bed. Cierra sat propped on pillows, thin and pale. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like ink.
Her eyes found us the second we stepped inside.
Dominic went to her side, his movements soft and certain. She smiled—a slight, genuine curve—and her hand reached for him like it had done it a dozen times before.
Like she knew him better than anyone else. Like he was the center of whatever was left inside her. My chest tightened watching as Dominic sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand, thumb brushing over her wrist. “How are you feeling?”
She tilted her head. “Tired. But okay. The doctor says I’m healing faster today.”
He smiled; the vision of it felt like hearing rain on a tin roof. “You’re tough. I told you that.”
Cierra looked past him then, her smile dropping, her gaze landing on me.
Blank.
Empty.
No flicker of recognition. No tension. No hate. Nothing.
She tilted her head slightly, still holding Dominic’s hand. “Who’s he?”
Dominic froze.
“Is he a healer?” she asked.
My breath caught. “Cierra… It’s me. Dane.”
She blinked slowly. “I’m sorry… that doesn’t sound familiar.”
“You don’t remember me?”
She shook her head, hesitant. “No. Should I?”
Dominic cleared his throat, voice tight. “You knew him before the attack. You were… close.”
Her fingers tightened on Dominic’s. “I don’t remember him,” she said firmly. Then softer: “But I know you. You’ve been here with me this whole time...” Her gaze warmed on Dominic. “You’re my mate, right? I mean, I know I am not eighteen yet, but I feel drawn to you.”
Dominic went still.
“I dreamed about you,” she whispered. "You said I was safe. You saw me when no one else did.”
His mouth parted, but no sound came.
“I don’t remember my wolf, my family… anything. But I remember you. You called me back.”
“Cierra…” Dominic’s voice cracked. I had never seen him like this before, so soft and considerate of anyone or anything. He’s supposed to be this brutal, cruel ruler of the obsidian pack, but with her, he’s… caring.
“I know we’re fated,” she said. “I feel it when I look at you.”
Her eyes flicked back to me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could remember you, too. But I don’t.”
She turned to Dominic again. “Will you stay with me, Dom?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, squeezing her hand.
Her eyes closed, and I left without a word.
She didn’t remember me. What was worse was that she didn’t want to.
- Writer
