CHAPTER 49: 49

"Do I really have to go shopping? I don’t feel like going out," Carmela protested as the car rolled to a halt in front of the mall.

With a faint smile, I cupped her face, searching her eyes for an answer that wasn’t there. They were blank, unreadable.

"Are you scared?" I asked softly. I already knew the answer but I still asked. She sighed and looked away. Ever since she regained consciousness, she had been distant, avoiding conversations with me whenever she could. I had made her agree to be my wife for a year, but I hadn’t mentioned the dangers that might come with it. Her reaction was understandable.

"You can stay by my side if you want. I just have to meet someone briefly, then we’ll leave."

Her gaze snapped back to mine, troubled. "What if you get hurt because of me?"

I frowned, unsure what she meant, but she quickly rolled her eyes, slipping from my touch. "Call me when you’re done," she said flatly, stepping out of the car.

There was something different about her now. She wasn’t the same girl I had met in church the mute artist I used to visit at the orphanage. That girl was gone. Something in her eyes, her aura, her entire being had changed.

The sharp beep of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. Zamiel. He had sent me his live location. With a sigh, I tapped on it and drove off.

The place he led me to was empty eerily so save for one table set with flowers, drinks, and cake. It didn’t look like a café at all.

"Did you get dumped?" I asked dryly as I slid into the seat opposite him.

"Dumped? Please." Zamiel chuckled, raising a brow. "This isn’t for me, it’s for you. I’ve been engaged for six months with no wedding in sight, and you have been engaged for a few days and boom, already married."

"Maybe you’re just not man enough to take up responsibilities," I teased, narrowing my eyes.

He smirked. "If ’responsibilities’ mean getting killed, I’ll pass. How’s my little bunny doing? I heard she was attacked yesterday." His tone was lazy, but his knowledge was unsettling.

"You seem to know more than enough," I said flatly.

He nodded, growing quiet for a moment before exhaling. "Carmela..." He glanced around, then locked eyes with me. "She’s started regaining her memories."

His words didn’t sound convincing, but I stayed silent, letting him continue.

"Remember when you went looking for her after the incident, and she didn’t recognize you? At that time, she did have amnesia. But after you left, her late mother’s younger brother found her. He started therapy, and it worked partially. She recalled fragments."

I narrowed my eyes. "And you never thought to tell me this when you dragged me into marrying her? Were you trying to save her... or kill me? If she recovered memories, why doesn’t she remember me?"

"My intentions haven’t changed," he said firmly. "And like I said, only part of her memory came back. She even stopped by my hospital and asked me to help her attend the Alpha Four dining. I agreed. But she’s planning something reckless; she wants to attack the old man. And I can’t allow that."

"Why?" I asked, leaning back.

"Because she’s aiming at the wrong person." His eyes darkened. "Years ago, I overheard my father and her grandfather talking about a drug. Something about what happens if its effects wear off. That’s when I learned she was still alive. After digging, I found this."

He slid his phone across the table. Surveillance footage from the training academy.

"Look closely," he said, zooming in. "Her grandfather asked my father for a memory-suppressing drug. And in this footage, you’ll see the old man point a gun at Carmela’s mother. But watch he hesitated. He didn’t want to shoot. It was staged. If he hadn’t, the sniper in the shadows would have killed both him and Carmela. To save her, he pulled the trigger."

"So it was orchestrated," I muttered. "To make Carmela hate him. And let me guess the real mastermind was her father?"

Zamiel nodded grimly.

"I met with the old man once under the guise of a medical checkup," he continued. "He admitted his son won’t stop until Carmela is buried. He begged me to give her the same drug, to keep her memories locked away. But that won’t solve anything."

"So what’s your plan?" I pressed, already tired of his riddles.

"She’s been a weapon from the start," Zamiel said, his tone sharp. "So let’s use her wisely. The past always returns, and she’s the very past her father fears most."

"And how do you expect that to work?" I scoffed. "She doesn’t remember his face. No pictures. And if the rumors are true, he had surgery after killing his wife."

"It’s true," Zamiel admitted. "But three people knew him: Carmela, the old man, and Lily. Lily’s dead. The old man can’t help. That leaves one option to remind Carmela of her past with precise, undeniable information."

His eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and resentment. He already had a planI could see it. And he wanted me to be part of it.

"What’s my role?" I asked.

"Carmela doesn’t know you’re Nathan. I promised to introduce her to one of the Alphas. I was going to send her to Alpha Four, but I don’t trust him. You’ll take her instead. She’s your wife, after all."

"And?" I prompted, noticing his hesitation.

"The old Dalton wants to meet her. She won’t go willingly, but you’ll make sure she doesn’t cause havoc."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." Rising from my seat, I adjusted my jacket.

He leaned back, studying me. "How’s your demon?"

I froze, then smirked faintly. "Scared I’ll go berserk?"

"No," he said quietly, his tone sharper than usual. "I’m scared you’ll fall in love with her. And when she’s gone... you’ll tear the world apart."

We locked eyes. He knew more than he was letting on. Could he have been behind the cut Carmela had when I picked her up from the hospital?

"Are you sure Carmela only asked you about the party? Nothing else?" I asked coldly.

He nodded, too easily. But I knew Zamiel better than that. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing always calculating.

"This meeting never happened," I said, turning for the door.

"Who the hell are you?" he called after me with a raised brow.

I smirked, not bothering to answer.

Because in the Alpha world, heirs weren’t brothers. We were threats. And if anyone found out about this meeting, the consequences would be bloody.

..

"Aunt Carmela, can you please help me check why he’s crying?" Cicila tugged on the hem of my dress, and I showed a little smile as I bent over to see what was wrong with her baby brother in the stroller.

"Cicila, how about you let Uncle Tom take care of you and your brother today? Your aunt isn’t feeling well," Tommy came closer to us, handing me a bottle of water, which I doubted I needed. I’ve been walking on eggshells lately, not wanting to get questioned about what happened between Lily and me in the room last night, and surprisingly, everyone has been acting normal, except for Gift, of course, as if nothing happened. I killed someone on their property, and instead of calling the police or being asked my reason for such an action, they decided to take me out shopping.

"I’ll take the kids with me. I was asked to give you this," he brought out a card from his pocket. "If you need me, call me, okay?" he smiled, and I just nodded, watching him take the kids away.

Now, what to do? I am still clueless about who Lily was working for, and there’s no way I could ask her since she’s no longer in this world.

"Damn, Carmela, I shouldn’t have killed her!" I exclaimed, my teeth clenched in regret. As I delivered the final blow, fragmented memories surfaced, revealing a life more pitiful than I had imagined a life where even my own cousin despised me and prayed for my demise.

What kind of existence had I endured?

"Carmela!" A voice called out, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. I rolled my eyes in frustration. Couldn’t they see I needed a moment to myself?

"Carmela!"

"What is it, for goodness’ sake?" I snapped, ready to lash out, but stopped short when I saw Editor Damian’s perplexed expression.

"Are you okay? Is someone bothering you? Why are you so on edge?" He bombarded me with questions, stepping closer. Before I could answer, two burly men in black suits appeared, creating a barrier between us.

"Mrs. Dean, are you okay?" one of them asked.

"Excuse me, who are you?" I replied, utterly confused.

"Your husband asked us to ensure your safety," the other man said, while Damian’s eyes bore into me, demanding answers. How could I begin to explain, especially after being warned to stay away from Nix?