Marked by the Alphas

Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Elara POV

I wake up to light streaming in through the window and look around when my eyes adjust. I am in a decent-sized bedroom, furnished in cosy earth tones of green, orange and yellow. Like a forest in the middle of fall. But it is not fall, I realise, looking through the large windows and noticing small snowflakes dancing through the sky.

Where am I? I do not recognise this place, nor can I remember how I got here.

I push myself from the bed, but instantly grab my head when dizziness overwhelms me. My head starts pounding, and my vision blurs.

With a groan, I lay back into the pillows and close my eyes. Then the panic sets in, and beads of sweat burst across my hairline.

Am I in an institute or something? It does not look like a hospital or clinic, but it has a medical feel to it. What day is it? Why can I not remember anything? There are literally no memories, no matter how hard I try to think of something. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

The door opens, and a woman enters.

“You’re awake,” she smiles, friendly.

“Do I know you?” I frown. I have no idea who she is. It is like my mind went blank.

“Oh dear,” she says, walking over, and I flinch away when she tries to place the back of her hand against my forehead.

“It’s okay,” she removes her hand and intertwines her fingers. “I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” I croak, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

“I’m Dr. Isolde,” she introduces herself. “You were brought here to heal after your accident.”

When was I in an accident? I blink slowly.

“Is that the reason why I cannot remember anything?” I ask, a little relieved that the mystery is solved and a little freaked out about my situation.

“Yes,” Isolde smiles sympathetically. “You took a nasty blow to the head.”

“Can you fix me?” My eyes welled with tears. “Because I can’t even remember my name.”

“Your name is Katie,” Isolde gently touches my shoulder and holds my gaze. “I know this is a shock, but you need to breathe.”

I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth.

“Good.” Isolde smiles. “Staying calm is essential.”

I continue breathing until I am relaxed.

“Okay, Katie,” Isolde says, taking my hand. “You were in a car accident and suffered a severe head injury. I cannot say when or if your memories will ever return. The brain is complicated like that. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find your next of kin, but we know who you are because the emergency services found your bag.”

“Did you run my Social Security number?” I ask, hopeful, desperate to learn more about myself and where I am from.

“You had no phone or ID card,” she replies sympathetically. “But you’re definitely not a criminal, because there is no record of you in any database.”

I nod, processing her words and trying to cling to the good news. I am alive, and I have a name. I will figure out the rest with time.

“There’s one more thing,” Isolde says, and my stomach dives. Her tone and face do not predict anything good. “You’re pregnant.”

“What?” I gape flabbergasted and my hand instantly fly to my abdomen. Okay, this is not bad news, but ... eighteen and pregnant? Do I have a husband or boyfriend, or am I simply just promiscuous?

“Also, you’re a wolf shifter,” she continues.

“You’re shitting me,” I chuckle nervously. Of course, I know what a shifter is, but seriously, am I one? No way, this is too surreal.

“I’m not,” she shakes her head. “Your bloodwork confirmed it.”

I destroy my brain for any information about wolf shifters, and strangely enough, I find that I know things. Maybe my memory is slowly awakening.

“If I’m pregnant and a wolf,” I choose my words wisely. “Then I should have a mate, right? Isn’t anyone looking for me?”

“We are the only medical centre in the area that cares for wolf shifters,” she explains. “And nobody has called here asking for a she-wolf with your description.”

Her words are a punch in the gut, and I look at my hands. Nobody is looking for me. Not a mother, father, sibling or friend. Not a single soul is looking for me. Is there something wrong with me that I am unloved?

“Katie, you’ll be okay,” Isolde says, hugging me, and I cling to her. Even contact with a stranger is better than nothing.

As she pulls away, I catch a strong whiff of her scent, like my wolf has just awakened, and my nose crinkles involuntarily. Something about her scent was off.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I look at her pleadingly. I have no idea where to start.

“I have a friend in Stillwood,” she replies sympathetically. “She runs a shelter for women in need. You can stay with her until you get back on your feet. She will be here to pick you up in the morning.”

“Thank you,” I nod, looking out the window, nervous about what is waiting for me outside of this place.