A chill descended on the tiny room, her sudden fear extinguishing all the warmth Hannah had started to feel towards her future mate. “Why did you bring me here?” she hissed, spinning on Dylan with a ferocity that made him step back in shock.

He frowned, his eyes shooting nervously towards the door. “How did you know – ”

“Never mind,” she cut him off, her jaw clenched tight in an effort to press down the wave of panic rising up her throat. “We have to get out of here, now!”

“Hannah please, calm down,” Dylan pleaded. “We're perfectly safe. This is the best place for us to hide out until – ”

“We don't need to hide,” Hannah cried out, her voice rising with each syllable. “We need to keep moving.” Her mind raced over the details of the Blackridge council of war, and her precarious control began to slip.

The panic, sensing an opportunity, increased its efforts to overwhelm her – her chest tightening, her breathing coming in rapid pants and a sudden flush leaving her clammy and uncomfortable. As she swept her mass of loose hair out of her face, she collided with a pair of stormy blue eyes, their owner reaching out to steady her, his expression tight with worry.

“Hannah, please calm down,” Dylan asked, keeping his voice only a little above a whisper as he risked another glance towards the door. “We're safe here – "

“Stop saying that!” she snapped, tearing herself free. She gathered herself together, squashing her terror firmly into an unused corner of her mind and fixing Dylan with a steely-eyed gaze. “If you really believe we’re safe, why do you keep looking at that door like it’s a venomous snake? Will it bite as soon as it opens?” She scoured his face.

Tension rippled across his hunched shoulders and his face showed clear signs of the strain of the last few days. His clothes were rumpled like he'd slept in them repeatedly and he couldn't stop raking his hand through his hair. “What are you afraid of, Dylan?”

Dylan flinched and his eyes narrowed. “I don't know if you've forgotten, but you've got rather a large target on your back. Half the rogue population is looking to kill you – ” He kept his voice low, but there was a subtle edge of irritation behind his words. “ – and you've already gone missing twice. Do you really think we're going to risk it a third time?”

“You didn't answer my question,” she retorted, surprised by the wave of anger that washed over her. A shadow passed by the stained glass windows and they both froze instinctively. She glared at his tense expression accusingly.

“It’s a long journey to Scotland,” Dylan murmured, his eyes following the shadow as it moved across the dappled glass. “And there are a lot of rogues between us and the border. Father is arranging safe passage for us.” He looked at her with serious eyes. “We're not going anywhere just yet.”

Hannah stared at him, trying to gauge his honesty. She sensed he truly believed what he was saying, but couldn't understand the level of trust he willing to give this pack.

Maybe she could get through to him?

“Dylan listen to me,” she begged. She clutched his hands in hers, willing him to listen to her. “I know your father thinks Syrus is his friend. But he's wrong. Syrus can't be trusted. Please, trust me, We have to get out of here! We have to find him and – ”

Dylan let out an incredulous laugh, freeing himself from her grip. “One thing need to remember, Hannah. father is never wrong. Even when he is,” he added, his eyes flicking to a small leather case on the table. He looked at her through haunted eyes, his shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of a wolf that hasn't slept for days. “I'm just trying to keep you safe.”

“Elmwood is working with the rogues!” Hannah cried in exasperation. “If you're trying to keep me safe, this isn't the way to do it!”

Dylan shook his head in stubborn denial. “Syrus isn't in league with the rogues,” he argued. “He's – ”

“If you believe that, then you're blind!” Hannah snapped. “His own son is a rogue... Blake found proof of their connections!” He continued to shake his head, his expression incredulous. She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Give me one good reason why Syrus would help us?"

“Because he's family,” Dylan bit back, his eyes darkening even further. “At least, he is through Tia, his mate. She's a Macleiry.”

She blinked. “Family – ?” she choked out. Surely not?

“She’s Clan. Yes,” Dylan snapped, sinking back down into the armchair. Hannah watched him close his eyes and swallow his irritation with a degree of difficulty. When he opened them he studied her carefully, his thoughts running so quickly behind his eyes Hannah could almost see them flashing past in the subtle changes of colour. “I did the right thing,” he muttered, half to himself, his eyes flicking back to the case.

Once again, he carefully checked both the door and window for signs of movement before asking, in a voice filled with as much patience as he could muster; “I really need you to lower your voice, Hannah. Can you do that? I swear, I'll explain everything.”

She nodded mutely, the pain in her head dulling to a steady ebb and flow, like waves lapping against the shore.

“When you mate into a clan you gain a number of... obligations.” His face twisted. “As a Lachlan, you can walk into any other pack with a member of your clan amongst their numbers and claim sanctuary. Shelter, sustenance and safety. It's not a choice, it's an obligation of blood. They can't refuse you.”

“And if they do?” Hannah asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“They incite the wrath of your entire clan.” He frowned. “In Scotland the impact would be immediate and, most likely, ugly. Wars have been started over less.”

“I wouldn't think Syrus would care about something like that,” Hannah murmured, trying to piece together everything she knew about him. “After all, we're a long way from Scotland.”

“He would,” Dylan said with a soft shake of his head. “If word got out, he'd be ostracised. Any pack he wanted to trade with that contains a Macleiry of any rank, would have the right to turn him away. Or, at the very least, make his negotiations very uncomfortable.”

“So, you’re essentially blackmailing him?” she muttered. If she’d been at all unsure how the situation could possibly get any worse, this would be it.

“Yes.” Dylan shrugged. “It works both ways though. Syrus has the right to ask my father for a favour too... and he likes that enough to pacify him.”

“What can your father offer him?” she asked with a frown.

“Nothing...” Dylan shrugged, shooting her a wary look. “Until we're mated and his banishment is lifted. Then... quite a lot. He's a powerful man in Scotland and he's about to become the father of an Alpha... and you know Syrus likes a good deal.”

Yes, Hannah mused quietly. Blake had used it to his advantage.

Her heart twisted painfully when she thought of the Alpha she'd left behind, then her eyes widened. “We can still get out of here,” she babbled, ignoring his look of consternation. “Where's your phone?”

She could call Blake, tell him where they were. He would know how to convince Dylan... He would... wait...

“We were here before the ambush,” she said in soft realisation. “Elmwood didn't happen upon you... you already knew Syrus.” She gasped. “You lied to me! You lied to all of us.” Her breathing quickened, fuelled by the increasing pain. “Was any of it true? Were we ambushed by rogues? Or – ” her stomach clenched.

“Yes!” Dylan protested, his voice desperate as he tried to reason with her. “Yes, we were ambushed, and I didn't – I mean, look. We barely made it back here. I hoped – ” he seemed to flinch at his own choice of words, then swiftly corrected himself. “ – I believed, you were gone. When Syrus told us – ” He sighed. “We knew there tensions between the two packs. Father suggested we keep our former affiliation quiet. He didn’t trust Alpha Blake, that's all.”

Hannah's eyes had locked onto the leather case. The sight of it filled her with a terror she couldn't explain. "I don't believe you,” she whispered.

He followed her gaze and his face grew suddenly guarded. “Hannah – ”

One hand flew to her neck as a wave of anger swept over her, so strong it nearly took her breath away. Before he could react, she used the sudden adrenaline to dash forward, snatching the case from the table and ripping it open. Out onto the table spilled sterilised needles, syringes and multiple liquid vials.

“How many times?” she cried accusingly, backing away from him. “How many of these did you use, Dylan? How long did you make me sleep?” she asked over the thudding in her ears and the spots of light dancing behind her eyes.

He stared at her for the longest moment. “Three days,” he admitted finally, and he raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “But we didn't – "

With a groan she sank to the floor, her hands wrapped around the post of the bed as though it could anchor her to the waking world. She could no longer hear him over the agony that radiated across her forehead, far faster than any build up she'd experienced before. Like an intruder pounding on a door to be let in, the pain lanced through her, increasing and decreasing with every beat of her heart.

So intense was the experience that she barely registered Dylan's distant protest before she was swept away...

Into a car where her limbs were sluggish and heavy, her senses dull and lifeless and a terrifying weakness emanated all through her body. She forced her eyes to focus and the blurred outline of trees darted past the car window, the driver speeding along the narrow roads at an alarming pace.

“She's waking up,” The voice – sullen and defeated – was far too close for comfort, and she twisted around instinctively, making a valiant effort to fight the drugs and sit upright. A sharp corner aided her attempt, throwing her into the door panel, her seatbelt straining to keep her in place.

“The syringe is in the door compartment,” the driver said over his shoulder, and she recognised the cold voice of her uncle. “Give her the full dose. I want her under control until we reach the border.”

Unaware how much he appeared to be dicing with death, he reached across to retrieve a small glass bottle from the seat next to him, tossing it casually towards the back of the car. It hit the back of the middle seat and bounced into the foot-well. She stared at it and tightened her grip as the car seemed to propel itself forward at even greater speed.

Break. She begged it silently. Please break.

Her uncle cursed.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” Dylan sighed, scrambling about under the seat. Their eyes met. Grimacing, he pierced the vial and drew the liquid slowly into the syringe, unaffected by his father’s erratic driving.

She watched helpless as he loomed over her, the tip of the needle dripping with a glistening bead of amber. Every nerve in Hannah's body screamed at her to fight back, but her limbs simply wouldn't cooperate, and her eyes communicated the words she couldn't speak out loud.

No, no, no! her mind rebelled, eyes fixed on the needle in his hand. He leaned in close, his lips pressing against her ear and she braced herself for the sharp scratch to follow. Instead, she felt a cold trickle run down her neck and into her hair as he injected the drug into thin air beside her.

“This is your only chance,” he whispered, his lips barely moving, the words inaudible to her uncle over the hum of the engine. “Get ready to run when I give the signal, and don’t look back.”

She stared at him in shock when he leaned back, discarding the syringe in the door. What was he doing? He returned her stare with sad, haunted eyes, waiting patiently as the feeling slowly returned to her body, his eyes flicking between the door handle and the forest outside.

Then, without warning, his expression changed to one of shock as his gaze shifted to the road ahead and something hit the side of the car sending it spinning wildly.

Her uncle uttered a series of guttural curses as he wrestled for control of the car and it skidded, out of control, straight into the trees. The engine continued to roar, the mechanical growl accentuated by snarls and howls and the tearing of flesh outside. Hannah groggily looked around her, mindful of the shattered glass covering the leather seats.

She had no idea what had changed, her eyes only registering the open door leading into the forest, the ground outside slick with rain. Summoning every scrap of strength she had left, she launched herself towards the tree line and away from the carnage by the road...

“You helped me escape,” Hannah mumbled, coming out of the fog, her head spinning. Her fingers tightened around the bed post as she focused her confused gaze on his horrified face. “Was I running from you? I don't understand...”

A second shadow swept passed the window, accompanied by the distant mumble of a deep voice they both recognised.

“Shit,” Dylan bit out, dragging her to her feet. “You're confused,” he told her roughly, his eyes on the door.

“But, I remember – ”

“No you don't,” Dylan said with surprising force. “You don't remember anything.”

“I do,” she persisted, amazed at his rebuttal. “I remember. You – ”

The sound of movement beyond the door grew louder and Dylan eyes grew wild, his hands wrapping around both her upper arms in a painful grip. “No!” he snapped again, giving her a small shake. “Listen to me, Hannah.” He dragged her towards the bed, his voice ringing with a fierce urgency. “When my father walks through that door, you remember nothing. Do you understand? Not your wolf, not where we are, not even the reason you slept so long. Nothing.”

The door handle began to turn.

“Dylan, stop – ” she squeaked, her mind too disoriented to fully appreciate the level of fear he projected behind the ferocity of his words.

He pulled her down onto the sheets, wrapping his arms around her and feigning a look of romantic tenderness “Your life depends on it,” he hissed into her ear just as the door swung inwards.

A pair of cold, shrewd eyes appeared in the doorway, the dark orbs alert enough to investigate every inch of the room, and sharp enough to home in on their apparently intimate embrace.

“You're awake,” he said directly to Hannah, sounding none-too-pleased. His eyes flashed and he shot a pointed glance at his son, communicating silently over their link.

Dylan’s muscles rippled from an unspoken reprimand and his jaw clenched, but he stood his ground. “She slept long enough,” he replied out loud with a touch of defiance. “We were... catching up. Making plans for our mating.” He made a point of tilting his head to gaze lovingly down at her and she kept her face carefully averted from her uncle, hastily moulding her face into what she hoped was a passive smile, and marvelling over how easily the lies passed Dylan’s lips.

Her uncle grunted.

“Where are we?” Hannah spoke up, a tiny challenge in her voice, despite her demure expression.

“A safe house,” He told her without blinking. “Just a little hut the local packs use now and again to rest on long journeys.”

liar, she thought, her anger straining to be heard.

“Oh,” she said instead, her voice dripping with innocence, ignoring the warning in Dylan’s eyes. “I thought I heard other wolves nearby?”

“No – ” Macleiry's sharp eyes grazed her face, no sign of hesitation as he fed her another lie. “ – Just me.” He glared again at his son. “Remember your promise, Dylan,” he warned out loud, dropping a tray of food onto the table beside the case.

Your promise... the words tugged insistently at Hannah's memory as Dylan stood up with a reluctant nod of submission towards his father. You promised... For some reason the words tingled with the scent of heather.

The two wolves muttered together in the corner of the room, their voices too low for her to overhear, but it wasn't hard to pick up the palpable tension lying between them, nor the sense of threat her uncle carried with him as his powerful presence swamped the room.

Was it a dream? Or was it a memory? A promise... not made on a snow covered beach, but long ago, surrounded by the smell of heather...

They ate lunch in silence, and she waited until her Uncle retreated once again before turning on Dylan. “What did I promise you?” she asked.

“Promise?” he repeated with a frown.

“Yes. I made you a promise, I don't know when. You said I couldn't tell...”

She watched him pale, his skin so leached of colour he almost blended into the wall behind him. “I don't remember any promise,” he lied, avoiding her eyes.

She stared at him a second. “Fine,” she muttered. “If you won't tell me, I figure it out myself.” They were keeping something from her. Whatever it was, she'd run from it. Far enough and fast enough to lose herself completely.

“My dreams are memories, all twisted up” she mumbled out loud as she paced back and forth across the floor. The cheap carpet felt grainy under her bare feet. “Events it can't process... Hidden truths...”

“Some truths are better off left unknown,” Dylan said cryptically.

“I've never smelt the heather in my dream,” she continued to babble, her confusing mix of emotions thickening her accent. “But I smell it on you... which means it must be connected to you? Doc said...”

“What are you doing?” Dylan asked, breaking her concentration.

She shot him a look of exasperation. “Trying to remember.” She drummed her fingers against the bed frame. “Doc said...”

“What are you trying to remember?” Dylan interrupted again, a frown marring his features.

“Everything!” she snapped. “Something. Anything will do. Now please, shut up a moment.” She screwed up her face in concentration.

He said her dreams were trying to communicate...

She suddenly stopped pacing, Dylan almost running into her, so close had he been following her footsteps. “I haven't been listening,” she announced, ignoring his bewildered expression.

“What haven't you been – ”

“Hush,” she berated him absentmindedly, the threads of her thoughts running far faster than she could keep up with them. She sank down on the bed and closed her eyes. I wasn't listening, she muttered into the darkness.

All she'd wanted was for the dreams to stop, never pausing to wonder what they meant. The pain across her temple sharpened as though to emphasise her point. I am now.