The lost mate

Chapter 104: The past

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the clearing as the pack’s gathering continued. The sound of laughter and conversations filled the air, blending with the crackling of the bonfire. Anne glanced over at Heather, who had been quiet for a while, sipping her drink and watching the mingling wolves.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Anne asked, nudging her lightly.

Heather blinked, pulled out of her thoughts, and smiled softly. "Yeah, I am. It’s... different, but in a good way." She paused for a moment, then looked around. "Where are Damien’s parents? I haven’t seen them yet."

Anne’s smile faltered just slightly before she quickly recovered. "They’ll be joining us soon. They like to make an entrance, especially at events like this."

As if on cue, a shift in the atmosphere rolled through the crowd. The idle chatter and laughter began to die down as the wolves’ attention shifted towards the entrance to the clearing. Richard and Liana stepped into view. Every wolf, without hesitation, bowed their head in respect. A wave of silence fell over the gathering. Even the children who had been playing moments ago quieted, their young eyes wide as they watched the powerful couple approach.

Anne leant towards Heather, whispering, "That’s them. Richard and Liana."

But Heather was frozen, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes locked on Richard. For a split second, the world around her seemed to vanish. The vibrant clearing, the bonfire, the pack—everything faded into the background as her vision tunnelled in on Richard’s face. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a cold sweat broke out along her skin.

It can’t be him...

But it was. There was no mistaking it. Richard was the same man who had been Jennifer’s boyfriend all those years ago. The man responsible for her sister’s death.

Heather’s face turned ashen, her grip tightening on her drink as she fought to keep her composure. She felt her stomach churn, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick.

Liana’s voice broke through her spiralling thoughts, calm and polite. "It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Heather. Anne’s told me so much about you," she said, smiling graciously. Her sharp eyes moved over Heather with a curious, almost appraising look, but there was no recognition in her gaze. "Thank you for keeping our grandson safe during everything. We’re grateful."

Heather barely heard her. She nodded automatically, trying to force her lips into a polite smile, but her mind was spinning. Did Liana know? Could she tell who she was?

Heather had met her just once, and she was just 15 at the time. It had been 27 years.

Heather’s eyes kept flicking back to Richard. He was talking to Damien now, his expression serious as they exchanged words, but Heather couldn’t look away. Memories she had buried deep within her mind began to surface—images of a time long ago.

"Are you alright?" Anne’s voice cut through her thoughts, concerned. She had noticed Heather’s sudden pallor and the way her hands trembled ever so slightly.

Heather nodded quickly, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "I’m fine," she lied, though her voice was tight.

Anne glanced at her with a raised brow but didn’t press further. Richard had now turned his attention towards them, his gaze briefly sweeping over Heather. There was no sign of recognition in his eyes either, and for a fleeting moment, Heather felt a wave of relief.

She could feel it in her chest, like a vice tightening with every passing second.

"I’m glad you’re here," Liana said with a smile, oblivious to Heather’s internal turmoil. "We’ve heard so much about you and all you’ve done for Damien and Anne."

Heather nodded again, her throat too tight to respond properly. She could feel her pulse thrumming in her ears, and all she wanted was to escape the suffocating tension that had gripped her since Richard and Liana had arrived. She needed air, space—anything to calm the storm raging inside her.

"I... I need to step out for a moment," Heather murmured, her voice barely audible as she excused herself.

Anne looked after her with concern as Heather walked away from the group, her steps hurried and unsteady as she made her way towards the edge of the clearing, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. Alone in the darkening forest, Heather pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to breathe. The memories she had tried so hard to forget had come flooding back in an instant, and now they threatened to drown her.

Richard was James, which meant Damien was Jennifer’s son !

"Heather, what’s wrong? You don’t seem like yourself." Anne’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Heather swallowed, trying to push back the rising panic. "I’m... not feeling well," she said quietly, her voice wavering despite her best efforts. "I think I should go home."

Anne studied her face for a moment, her brow furrowed with worry. She wasn’t sure what had changed in Heather’s demeanour, but she could see that something was deeply bothering her. "Of course," she said, nodding. "If you’re not feeling up to staying, I’ll help you get home."

Heather offered a small, grateful smile, though the unease in her eyes remained. "Thanks, Anne."

Anne placed a comforting hand on Heather’s arm, then glanced around the clearing. "I’ll go let Emily know. She’ll want to leave too."

Neither Anne nor Emily pressed Heather for details. They knew her well enough to sense that something deeper was going on, something she wasn’t ready to talk about. They walked in comfortable silence, offering her the space she needed to process whatever had shaken her so deeply.

Chris drove them back and they didn’t exchange any words until they had reached home.

"What is it mom ?" Emily asked as soon as they reached home.

Heather stared out the window for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She hesitated, clearly battling with how much to reveal.

"Richard," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "he’s James. My sister Jennifer’s boyfriend."

Emily’s eyes widened in shock, and her heart skipped a beat. She turned to fully face Heather, trying to process what she’d just heard. "Wait... what?" Emily blinked, disbelief clouding her features. "Heather, are you sure? That... that doesn’t make sense. How could he be James?"

Heather’s hands were clenched into fists in her lap, her knuckles white. She nodded slowly; her expression pained, as if the memories were clawing their way to the surface, refusing to stay buried any longer. "I’m sure, Emily. I could never forget him. He looks the same, exactly like he did 27 years ago."