AMELIE
I slowly drifted back from the abyss of my consciousness, muffled, rhythmic sounds lost in the background finally pushing forward, becoming distinct and clear.
My fingers twitched, and although it felt like an impossible task, I forced my eyes open and found myself in a room that looked like something out of a cheesy soap opera scene.
Eggshell-colored walls, heavy velvet curtains, polished marble floors, at least half a dozen flower bouquets in every corner, and a large TV screen hanging in the middle of the wall facing the bed.
"Finally awake?" A man's voice snapped me back to reality, and as my eyes found the voice's owner, I froze, completely stunned by the sight I was beholding.
Tall, well-built, and unbelievably gorgeous, there stood a man in his early thirties, his big arms crossed at his chest, his deep, brown eyes fixed firmly on my confused face.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, platinum cufflinks peeking from underneath its sleeves. Next to him stood another man approximately the same age, though his face looked rather tired, and he constantly moved his eyes between me and the screen of his tablet.
"Mrs. Gilmore?" The first man asked, his thick eyebrow arching. "How are you feeling?"
"Al-alright," my voice came out as something between a cough and a groan, sending a bloom of heat into my cheeks. "Where am I? Who are you? And how do you know my name?"
"That's a lot of questions," the second man noted with a snarl. "She's clearly okay."
"My name is Logan Grant," the gorgeous man said without paying much attention to his companion. "This is a VIP room in our pack's hospital. I know your name because when I found you unconscious at the side of the road, I checked your ID to make sure you were not a criminal."
"Well," I started carefully, throwing a cautious glance at the second man whose name I still didn't know. "I'm not. A criminal, I mean."
"You're not," Logan repeated, "but you're also not a favorite member of your own pack. I asked the nurses to get in touch with your husband, but it's been a few hours, and we have yet to hear anything back."
As soon as he mentioned my husband, my heart clenched as a surge of memories poured back into my mind. My husband humiliated me. My family threw me out. I wanted to die, but instead...
"Ugh!"
A sudden jolt of unbearable pain shot through my skull as something else took root in my brain. A purple pill. I found a pill inside my grandpa's locket and swallowed it!
'I gave you a second chance at life, sweet child,' a female voice echoed in my head like a premonition. 'Now, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.'
A sudden, colorful explosion blinded me for a few moments, but once the frenzy had subsided, my head finally cleared, and for the first time in my life, I felt so confident and strong, that it almost felt like I had been born again.
"Mrs. Gilmore? Can you hear me?" Logan's voice pulled me back to the present once again.
I blinked, focusing on his slightly worried face. Up close, he was even more striking—surprisingly flawless skin, intelligent eyes, and full lips pressed into a concerned line.
"Yes," I finally managed, my voice still rather hoarse. "Who are you, again?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he remained grounded as he replied. "Logan Grant. The heir to the Blood Moon Pack."
I struggled to sit up, surprised to find my body didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. "Oh... That Logan Grant?!"
Now that his name had finally sunk in, I couldn't believe it. Logan Grant of the Blood Moon Pack. He was a dark horse of his own family, barely showing his face to the public, yet everyone knew who he was, and everyone wanted to get close to him.
I was saved by the most notorious alpha heir in the country. Had my luck suddenly changed?
"Thank you for helping me out," I said timidly, no longer sure how I should even look at the man before me. "I don't even know how to pay you back."
"I don't need anything from you," Logan said coldly, and for some reason, his indifference actually stung. "It's my duty as a future alpha."
Then, he suddenly winced, and his companion rushed to grab him by the shoulders, pushing a chair toward him.
"Are you alright?" I asked, worried by the sight.
He waved away my concern with a flick of his hand, but I still noticed another pained flinch on his handsome face as he took a seat and grabbed the armrest as if to steady himself.
"An old injury," he explained briefly. "Jake, the pills."
Jake pulled a small box of pills from the pocket of his jacket and quickly handed them to Logan. The latter swallowed one pill without water, shifting his dark eyes back to me.
"I was lured into a silver trap when I was going through the military training at the academy. I've been struggling with pain ever since."
As he spoke, something unbelievable happened.
All of a sudden, I could see it all––Logan's anatomy, the clear position of every bone in his skeleton, every joint, every ligament––I no longer saw him as a man, I saw him as a map of afflictions which somehow, I knew exactly how to cure.
The pain he was talking about presented itself as a floating red mass, and the moment I realized what it was, I blurted out, "I can help you, Mr. Grant! I can make this pain go away!"
Jake choked on a sip of water he was having, while Logan narrowed his eyes with skepticism. "You can what?"