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“Tell me every interaction between you and the two of them that you’ve had as an adult,” he says, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.

Slowly, painstakingly, he jots down notes as we talk. My cheeks heat as I tell him about some of the spicier and more intimate moments, but he doesn’t comment on it. He simply prepares to take them all from me.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes and take deep breaths. We are going to go back to the time where you first met Cooper and Ethan at school. Instead of remembering that Cooper was your teacher, you’ll recall that you had a substitute teacher your freshman year for a class, but not remember who it was or what class,” Riley says. “It’ll remain shadowy and unclear, the way the past sometimes can become over time.”

“Okay,” I say, barely moving my lips as I feel my body relax.

He speaks to me as he sends me back to the memory when I first met Cooper, my mind transporting me to that moment. Riley hardly has to say anything for me to remember it all. It’s a moment I haven’t forgotten, and now it’ll be gone.

“Forget,”he barks. His alpha bark has the memory disintegrating, and then he asks me to go to the next moment with Cooper.

Systematically, every second that I’ve spent with him is removed from my mind, and then Riley ruthlessly moves to Ethan. I’m calm because he told me to be, his hands rubbing my feet to keep me semi conscious.

I doubt this is what the doctors would call appropriate, but it is working. Every moment, kiss, touch, and authoritative word I experienced with my step-father and step-brother is removed, until I feel empty.

“Now, I need you to do one more thing,” he says. “Think about your step-brother and step-father from when you were a kid. I want you to force those memories to go hazy. Their faces, what they sound like, things that they said to you. If asked, you’ll say you don’t remember much about your childhood,even though you’ll be able to remember other things without any issues. Even their names will fade with time, but you’ll remember them if your mother asks you about them.”

There’s power in those words as well, and I want to fight against it. A faint whine slips from my lips, but Riley shushes me. He’s insistent on taking everything from me, and I slump on the couch as the memories fade away. All of it is gone, and there are just pockets of shadow now.

“When I say ‘goodbye’, you’ll wake up and think it’s the first time you’ve woken up. I’ll tell you the doctors are ready for your next treatment, and you’ll allow me to walk you there,” he says. “It’s very important that you not fight me or anyone here, Nina. If they say something confusing to you, let it roll off your back and just nod. Don’t question them. Do as you’re told so you can get out of the hospital.”

I make a small noise, and Riley squeezes my feet. There’s a hint of his alpha bark in his voice, and I feel compelled to do what he wants.

“Goodbye, Nina,” he says, and I shudder before I open my eyes.

Riley is sitting at the end of the couch, leaning forward as he gazes at me.

“I hope you slept well,” he says, while I blink at him confused.

“Why am I laying on the couch?” I ask. I don’t typically have comforts like this, and the blanket is soft and warm. I feel disoriented, having expected to wake up on the floor or bound to a chair.

Neither is happening right now.

I didn’t even think they had any blankets like this. I certainly haven’t received any comforts like this. There’s a soft pillow underneath my head, and I think I could cry with how nice it feels.

“Dr. Kind thought you may enjoy it because you’ve beengetting better,” he says. “When you do what you’re expected to do, you get nice things.”

“I have?” I ask, shaking my head. I don’t remember doing anything that they’d be happy with.

The staff and doctors usually glare at me because I’m so awful.

“You have,” Riley says. “Do you remember your alphas?”

“What alphas?” I whisper, feeling as if I have a large chunk of my heart missing. “I have alphas?”

“Not anymore,” he says softly. “Come with me, Dr. Kind wants to run some tests.”

Flinching as I remember the pain those tests involve, I want to fight, but my body disobeys me. In fact, I’m trapped in my mind as Riley wraps his hand around my bicep and leads me out of the office and toward a testing room.

Dr. Kind gazes sharply at me before glancing at Riley.

“It’s done,” he says. “No memories, sir.”

“Miss Nina, if you pass this exam, we can work on other parts of your therapy and be closer to your being released,” Dr. Kind says. “Come along.”

My feet move even as I ask myself why when I’ve never done what they’ve wanted me to do. It feels as if I’m watching myself from the outside, silently yelling that I stop.

And yet…I can’t.