Chapter 207: Something is Odd
Kaden’s POV
Pain.
A dull, crushing ache throbbed behind my eyes, each pulse sending another wave of agony straight through my skull. A low, involuntary groan escaped my dry lips as I slowly forced my heavy eyelids open.
For several long, confusing seconds, all I could do was stare at the cracked ceiling above me. Deep cracks ran across the stone roof like spiderwebs, while pale morning light slipped through shattered windows, cutting bright, dusty lines across the ruined floor.
Where am I?
The question drifted sluggishly through my head. Every thought felt unnaturally heavy, as if my mind were stuck in mud.
I swallowed against my raw throat, trying to push myself up. The moment I shifted my weight on the bed, sharp pain exploded through my body. Every muscle hurt terribly. My shoulders felt as though they had been torn apart, my chest was unnaturally tight, and even lifting my arm felt like trying to move a mountain.
"...What the hell..." My voice came out as a rough whisper.
I slowly looked around the room, completely disoriented. Broken chairs rested on their sides, heavy wooden bookshelves were smashed to pieces, and dark stains of dried blood covered the rug. The sharp, bitter smell of burnt herbs, blood, and old magic hung heavy in the cold air. It looked as though a brutal battle had taken place right inside this room.
"Where is this place?" I muttered, wincing as I pressed two fingers against my throbbing temple. "Why is this room destroyed? Where am I?"
I blinked hard, forcing the heavy haze in my eyes to clear just a little. I took in the paintings on the walls, the high arched windows, and the familiar layout of the space. "Wait..." I frowned, my eyebrows pulling tightly together. "This is Kane’s packhouse."
My eyes dropped to my right hand, resting against the sheets. A fresh, clean white bandage was wrapped tightly around my palm.
How did I get hurt? When did this happen?
The broken door suddenly swung open. I lifted my head, my jaw clenching against the sudden spike of pain behind my eyes.
My twin brother stopped dead in the doorway. Behind him stood Logan, his expression tense and pale. The moment our eyes met, both of them froze. They stood there in total, suffocating silence—staring at me as if they were looking at a corpse rising from the grave.
Their expressions were strange. I saw relief, but beneath it lay a thick, suffocating layer of shock, guilt, and panic.
"...Why are you both looking at me like that?" I demanded, my voice hardening despite my physical weakness.
Neither of them answered immediately. They just exchanged a swift, terrified glance.
"Kane... Logan... what happened?"
Logan took a slow, deliberate step forward, holding his hands up slightly in a calming gesture. "Kaden, just stay still for a second. Calm down. Tell me... what is the last thing you remember?"
I frowned at his question, closing my eyes as I searched through my memories. At first, everything felt blurred, but then fragments slowly began to surface.
"I remember the meeting..." I said slowly. "I remember we were called here..." I frowned, pressing harder against my throbbing temple. "But after that..." A sharp pain shot through my head, making me grit my teeth. "Everything after that is gone."
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my mind to search deeper. The harder I tried, the worse the headache became, as though my own memories were pushing back against me.
Kane was the first to move closer. He crossed the room quickly, his boots heavy against the broken stone, and stopped right beside the bed. "You scared us, Kaden," he said, his voice full of relief.
I frowned up at my brother. "I did?"
"You’ve been unconscious."
I looked back and forth between the two of them, my Alpha instincts noticing the nervous energy coming off their shoulders. "...For how long?"
"Almost a full day," Logan answered, stepping up to the opposite side of the bed. His eyes darted nervously to my face, scanning my eyes as if looking for something specific.
I raised my bandaged hand and rubbed my aching head, trying to make sense of the fog. "A full day... Kane, what the hell happened here? Why is your packhouse torn to pieces?"
Logan stepped in before Kane could open his mouth. "We were in a high-level meeting back at our packhouse, Kaden. We got emergency news that Kane’s territory was under a massive, sudden attack by rogues. We rushed here immediately to help his warriors fight them off."
He paused before continuing.
"During the battle, one of the rogues managed to slash your palm with a poisoned blade." Logan’s eyes briefly dropped to the fresh bandage wrapped around my hand. "The poison acted fast. You kept fighting for a while, but eventually your body gave out and you collapsed. We brought you in here while the healers worked to purge the poison from your system."
Logan held my gaze without hesitation, but something about him felt... rehearsed. His voice was steady, yet his eyes seemed almost too careful, as if he were weighing every word before speaking it.
My expression darkened. I couldn’t recall collapsing. I couldn’t remember fighting the rogues, or even how my hand had been slashed. But as I searched through the foggy, blurred edges of my memory, tiny fragments began to float up. I recalled sitting in a meeting. I recalled the message about Kane’s territory being under attack. I even distinctly remembered mind-linking Alpha Sills to send squads of his warriors straight to my brother’s pack.
After that... nothing. Just complete, black darkness.
It didn’t make sense why I couldn’t remember fighting or collapsing. But I didn’t want to push it further. Kane’s pack was attacked; I should focus on that.
"The rogues," I said, my voice dropping into a low growl as I looked right at Kane. "Were they caught? Did any of them survive?"
Kane’s shoulders stiffened instantly. He stared at me for a second before lowering his gaze to the floor. "No. They scattered into the mountains before we could lock down the borders, and they are protected by dark magic—our trackers can’t access them."
I clenched my jaw. "Damn it."
A heavy, unnatural silence settled over the ruined room once more.
I sat there, breathing in the cold air, but something... something didn’t feel right.
I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t the physical soreness in my muscles, nor was it the lingering weakness in my limbs. It was a terrifying, hollow emptiness—like a dark, vacant room locked deep inside my own chest. A strange, suffocating instinct whispered that I had forgotten something massive. Something very important to my life.
I slowly looked around the room again—at the broken furniture, the blood, and the dust floating in the morning light. The empty ache in my chest only grew stronger, hurting like a cold knife.
And then my wolf was unusually quiet.
"...I feel like..." I stopped, my words trailing off.
The moment the phrase left my mouth, both Logan and Kane froze entirely. Kane stopped breathing altogether, and Logan’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
I frowned harder, my sharp gaze moving between their pale faces. "I feel like I’m forgetting something."
"Don’t worry, Kaden..." Logan said instantly. "It’s normal after coming back from being unconscious."
I wanted to snap at him that it wasn’t just that, but I nodded my head slowly, pressing my palm flat against my throbbing forehead. "It must be the headache."
Logan let out a quick, quiet breath, nodding. "It’ll pass, Kaden. Your mind and your wolf just need time to recover from the fight."
Maybe he was right. I forced the dark, uneasy feeling down into the pit of my stomach and looked back at my brother. "How many warriors did we lose in the raid?"
Kane lowered his eyes briefly, completely unable to meet my gaze. "Not many... many are just injured and are receiving treatment, but the packhouse is destroyed."
A heavy, frustrated sigh escaped my chest as I flexed my bandaged hand. "We’ll rebuild. We always do. And then we hunt down every one of those bastards."
I noticed Logan quietly fold his arms over his chest, standing stiffly near the edge of the bed. I studied both of them carefully. They were acting strangely. They were cautious and tense, like two men standing inches away from a sleeping beast, holding their breath and praying it wouldn’t wake up and tear them to pieces.
My eyes narrowed, my instincts kicking in.
"Look at me, both of you," I ordered, my voice dropping to a sharp, cold demand. "What aren’t you telling me?"