23. Carter

TWENTY-THREE

CARTER

Chapter 23

" N othing matters anymore," I say.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reed?" a young technician asks me. "What doesn't matter anymore?"

"Anything," I say. "I've lost everything. Everything I ever cared about is gone."

"You were only unconscious for a brief amount of time."

I blink, trying to focus on the technician's face. My head throbs, and the stark white walls of the hospital room seem to pulse with each beat of my heart. "No, you don't understand," I mutter, my voice hoarse. "I lived a lifetime. I had a family, children, grandchildren..."

The technician exchanges a worried glance with someone out of my line of sight. "Mr. Reed, you've only awake for a while since we brought you back from the station. Perhaps you're experiencing some confusion from the coma?"

I struggle to sit up, my muscles weak and uncooperative. "What does it matter? Where are my people?"

"Your... people?" The technician's brow furrows. "Sir, I think we should call the doctor."

"No!" I shout, startling even myself with the intensity. "I need to get back to the Masari. They need me. I want to lie next to my lifemate."

The door slides open with a soft hiss, and two uniformed IHC security officers step in. My heart races as I recognize their insignias.

"Mr. Reed," one of them says, his voice calm but firm. "We need you to come with us."

I slump back against the pillows, the fight draining out of me. "Why? What's happening?"

The officer doesn't answer, just gestures for his partner to help me up. As they gently but firmly guide me out of the bed, I realize I'm too weak to resist even if I wanted to.

"Please," I whisper as they lead me towards the door. "I need to get back to my family. They're waiting for me."

The officers exchange a look I can't quite decipher. One of them pats my shoulder awkwardly. "It's going to be alright, Mr. Reed. We just need to ask you a few questions."

As we step into the sterile hallway, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby window. The face staring back at me is young, human, and utterly foreign. I close my eyes, trying to hold onto the fading memories of my other life, of Araela and her purple eyes glinting in the sunlight, of my grandchildren's laughter.

But with each step, it all slips further away, like sand through my fingers.