Page 32 of Hunted

“I’d rather it be River. I trust him.” Butternut squirmed in my lap. I set him down.

“Maybe so. But when you’re sleeping with him, it must confuse things on an emotional level, especially when you take into account the feelings you’re still working through about your erased memories.”

My cheeks heated. I didn’t want to have this conversation with Cal. “Can we talk about the dream?”

The silence stretched. I could feel that Cal wanted to push me to dig into the topic a little more. If River hadn’t been his brother, maybe he would have. But instead, he let it go.

“Of course. Tell me what happens.”

“In the one last night, Hayden and I were kneeling in the rain with our hands bound. I couldn’t see where we were. It was so dark. Rossi, he… had a knife to Hayden’s throat. He was shouting something at me.” I touched my throat. “I was hysterical, pleading with him to let her go. I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”

“Not at all?” Cal interrupted. “How could you tell he was shouting?”

“I could hear him, but it was like he was miles away. There was this roaring in my ears, like I was standing right next to the highway when the trucks rush by.”

Cal’s frown had deepened. “What happened next?”

I blinked, tears filling my eyes as the nightmare came rushing back. Please, I begged. Hayden. I collapsed forward, the wet concrete rushing up to meet me, my sister screaming as Rossi drew the blade across her throat. I finished describing it for Cal. “And that was when he sent the wolves to finish me off.”

Cal looked up. “How often do you dream of wolves, Ellie?”

“Not every night. Most nights I’m human when he finds me. But some nights, I’m a wolf, too.”

He nodded, expression thoughtful. “What happened after that?”

“I was screaming in my mind for River, could hear him shouting for me. He was terrified. I knew he was coming for me. But before he could get there, Rossi broke into my mind, paralyzed me in place so I fell to the ground there next to Hayden in the street. And then the wolves reached me.”

I didn’t tell him the rest. River’s anguished screams. The blood, so much blood, the coppery scent mixing with the smell of the rain falling on the cold concrete as Rossi stood over me, a cruel smirk on his sharp aristocratic features.

Once again, he’d found me at night. Like in the other dreams, it had been raining. Most of the other details had been different.

I licked my lips, working up the courage to voice the words I’d been avoiding for months. “I dream of my death every night and the dreams are getting more violent. I worry that given my history, I might be at risk of a mental health breakdown.”

“That’s an old fear for you. Can you counter that statement in your mind? What are some other logical explanations for your dreams?”

I took a breath. “It’s been raining non-stop for weeks. We’re having flash flooding across the state. That’s probably why it’s always raining.”

“Good. What else?”

“Rossi is hunting me. I’m under a lot of stress every time I think of leaving the house, not to mention pressure to meet deadlines with my research.”

“And we know the anxiety and fear we aren’t able to consciously face during our waking hours often finds its way into our dreams. It’s the subconscious mind’s way of trying to work through the problem. Add these factors to the PTSD you’re experiencing after the memory wipe, and it’s not surprising to me you’re having nightmares. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

“Would it really cause me to dream of the same thing every night?” What Cal was saying made sense. At the same time, I needed to know if what I was experiencing was significant or just the typical residual effects of neural manipulation reversal.

Meera and Piper had been nothing but supportive, but as the ALDD project gained more attention, would I be able to stay on as a researcher if Meera’s supervisors learned I had severe panic attacks, episodes of disorientation, and recurring nightmares? I couldn’t let anyone find out. If my supervisors realized I had two versions of my memory blurring the truth, making me think I was losing my mind, I would be taken off the project. And I was so close to a breakthrough.

“That’s somewhat common following a traumatic event, though it’s less common for it to be a specific dream not tied to the event itself. But your case is complicated by River having rewritten your neural structures. We don’t have a roadmap for what to expect. You had anxiety previous to this event. Matteo Rossi is a threat to you. There have been multiple attacks at your workplace. Your dreams seem like a natural manifestation of your subconscious reacting to these very real fears.”

I blinked and looked away, embarrassed that my eyes had started to sting. “So you don’t think I’m going crazy?”

“I don’t like that label,” Cal said gently. “And no, I don’t. I think you’re an incredibly strong young woman who has had to deal with a lot over the last two years. You’re working to process what happened to you and continuing to manage your mental health. I think you need to be patient with yourself. I would also suggest manipulating your physical space just before bed and seeing if that doesn’t help you get a better night’s rest. Lowering the temperature in the room at night, for example. A warm bath before bed. Some guided meditation to get your mind in a good place before you fall asleep.”

“I’ve tried those things.”

“Sometimes it’s finding the right combination of techniques to provide relaxation and healing. They’re just suggestions. It’s up to you to listen to your body and decide what works for you.”

And of course, here I was, arguing with warm baths like he’d suggested electric shock therapy. “Sorry. I’m kind of on edge.” I took a breath. “I’m also conflicted… about River.”