The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Poppy’s POV **

I don’t remember falling asleep. One second, I’m wrapped in Leo’s arms, warm and steady, the bond humming softly between us like a quiet reassurance, and the next, I’m cold.

The shift is instant and violent. The warmth is gone, ripped away so suddenly it steals the breath from my lungs. My eyes snap open, but I’m not in the cabin anymore.

I’m standing in the middle of a road. It’s dark, unnaturally dark. There are no trees, no warm cabin, no protective Leo. Just empty tarmac stretching endlessly in both directions, glistening as if it has been raining.

My chest tightens.

“No…”

The word barely makes it out because I know this place; I just don’t want to. A faint hum fills the air. Low and distant, but getting closer.

My heart starts pounding.

“I wasn’t here,” I whisper.

But even as I say it, something inside me twists. Because it doesn’t feel true. The hum grows louder, and headlights flare into existence. Blinding and too fast. My body locks up, rooted to the spot as the car speeds toward me.

“No, no, no…”

The sound hits first. Crunching metal, shattering glass, a deafening, crushing impact that tears through the night.

The world fractures around me, falling away like a crumbling wall, and then suddenly I’m closer.

The car is twisted, broken, and barely recognisable. The front crushed in, the windshield shattered, glass glittering across the road like something almost beautiful. My breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts.

“Mum?” I whisper.

No answer. visit j-ob-n-ib.comThe silence that follows is worse than the crash. I take a step forward, then another. My legs feel heavy, as if I’m wading through water or something thicker, but I force myself closer. Because I need to see. I need to know.

“I wasn’t here,” I repeat, louder this time.

But the words feel wrong. Like a lie I’ve told myself so many times I almost believed it.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Not in the car, but behind it. In the shadows where the headlights don’t quite reach.

I freeze. The air shifts, but there is no wind. The only sound is the quiet hum of the radio coming from the car. A song I don’t know, but it sounds oddly familiar at the same time.

“You remember,” a voice whispers.

This voice isn’t in my head; it’s around me, coming from every direction at the same time. I spin, my pulse spiking. “Who’s there?”

There’s no answer, just that same presence, but closer now. The shadows deepen, stretching unnaturally across the road, pulling toward me as if they’re alive. My stomach twists, and I take a step back.

“This isn’t real,” I say quickly. “This is a dream.”

“Is it?” the voice murmurs softly.

It almost sounds curious. I shake my head, backing up another step.

“Yes,” I respond, but my voice wavers.

Because this doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels like something I’ve forgotten. Something I wasn’t supposed to remember.

My heel catches on something, and I stumble. I glance down, and my breath leaves me in a broken gasp.

Blood, dark and fresh, trailing across the road. Leading straight to me. I jerk back.

“No,” I gasp.

The shadow moves again, faster this time. Closing the distance between us in the space of a heartbeat.

Cold brushes my skin. A hand, I think. It’s not solid, maybe not even entirely real, but it’s there. My entire body locks in fear, even my lungs seize.

“She is not yours.” The words echo through the space.

The new voice sounds powerful yet calm. There’s no anger in it, just a certainty.

The shadows shift, and for a split second, I see her. A woman shaped from darkness itself, full and alive. The night bends around her as if it belongs to her.

I finally manage to suck in a breath, and something in my chest pulls hard. Then there’s a flicker of recognition.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

Her gaze snaps to mine, and everything stops. The road, the air, even my fear. Because the way she looks at me, it’s not like I’m a stranger. It’s like she’s been waiting.

“Not yet,” she says softly.

My heart slams against my ribs.

“What do you mean, not…”

The world tears apart, and I bolt upright with a gasp. The cabin slams back into place around me. Warm, solid, and real. Leo’s arms are already around me, tightening instantly.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re here.”

His voice cuts through the panic, low, steady, and grounding. I’m breathing too fast; I feel like I can’t get enough air.

“I…” I choke, shaking my head. “I think I…”

My words die. Because I don’t know how to explain what that was.

Leo’s hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Safe… The word doesn’t quite comfort me. Because I can still feel it. The cold… the shadow… her.

I swallow hard, forcing my breathing to slow.

“It was just a dream,” I manage.

But even as I say it, the voice stirs again.

Stronger now than ever before.

“You were there.”

“I wasn’t there!” I snap before I can stop myself.

A chill slides down my spine. No. No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t there. That’s what they told me. That’s what I remember. Right?

I press my hand to my chest, trying to steady the sudden, spiralling unease. Leo watches me carefully.

“You want to tell me what you saw?” he asks.

I hesitate because I don’t know what to say, or worse… I’m not sure if I want to know. I drag in a slow breath, then another, forcing my lungs to cooperate.

“It was just…” I start again, but the words feel hollow now. “A nightmare.”

Leo doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t call me out on it either. He just watches me, his gaze steady, searching, as if he’s trying to piece together something I haven’t said out loud yet.

Leo’s hand tightens slightly where it rests against me.

“You said you weren’t there,” he points out.

“I know.”

“But it felt like you were?”

I swallow.

“Yeah.”

Leo exhales slowly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against my arm in a grounding motion.

“Then maybe it’s not just a dream,” he says.

The words send a chill down my spine.

“No,” I say immediately. “It has to be.”

“Why?”

Because if it’s not, then everything I’ve believed about that day might be wrong, and I’m not ready to face that.

“I just…” I shake my head again. “I don’t remember being there.”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t.” The voice is softer now, almost gentle.

Which somehow makes it worse. My stomach churns.

“What if I was?” I whisper without meaning to.

Leo stills.

“What?”

I don’t look at him. Because I’m not sure if I can say it out loud without it becoming real.

“What if I were there,” I repeat, quieter this time.

The question hangs in the air.

Leo moves slightly beside me, his presence solid and grounding, but I can feel it now. His tension and concern. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. We were supposed to mate and be ridiculously happy. Then I’d mate with Jake, and the voice would finally fade, and we’d all live happily ever after.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he says.

He makes it sound so simple, as if it’s not something that could unravel everything I thought I knew.

I let out a slow breath, reaching for his hand.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

But the word feels uncertain, because deep down, I know something is happening, and I’m not sure I’m ready for what comes next.

Leo pulls his hand from mine, like I’ve burned him. I don’t get a chance to ask, because his hands are on me, one on my forehead, one pressing to my chest. I feel his fear trickle through the bond as he looks at me.

“Get dressed,” he says with no hesitation or softness. “I’m taking you to the clinic.”