Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

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Chapter 1 - Tragedy

A sharp gasp tore through Eleanor Whitmore's throat as she jolted awake, her body wracked with pain.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this? Leave me alone!" Her voice rang out into the oppressive darkness, her words swallowed by the void. No response came... only silence, thick and suffocating.

Her breathing came in ragged bursts. She tugged at her arms, but resistance bit into her wrists. Rope. The rough fibers scraped against her skin as she twisted. Her legs, too, were bound, rendering her completely vulnerable. The cold air against her bare skin sent shivers of fear through her already trembling frame.

Panic clawed at her chest. The scent of blood hung in the air, metallic and sickening. A dull, throbbing pain radiated from every inch of her body, like she had been trampled beneath something unrelenting. She swallowed hard, tasting the coppery tang on her tongue.

Her mind spun, desperately grasping for clarity. What happened? How did she get here?

Despite being the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the city, she had never harmed anyone. She was never arrogant, disrespectful, or the type to provoke others.

Then, it hit her like a crashing wave.

She had left the office early that day to meet her sister at a party. As she stepped out of the elevator into the dimly lit underground parking lot, a shadow loomed behind her. Before she could react, a cloth was pressed against her face.

She struggled, her heart pounding in terror, but within moments, darkness consumed her.

A sob bubbled up in her throat, but she forced it down. Now was not the time to break. She had to think. She had to get out. Her fingers twitched against the bindings, searching for any weakness in the knots.

Sweat trickled down her forehead. She had to focus. If she panicked, she would lose the small reserves of strength she had left. Her body was weak, hunger gnawed at her stomach, throat burned with thirst, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, but she refused to let it win.

hoarse and barely audible. Her breathing grew steady as she tried again, twisting her wrists, searching for slack in the

was still alive.

vision swam, her strength waning, but she kept pulling. Hours could have passed... or maybe only minutes. She didn't know. Her body threatened to shut down. But she couldn't

breathing heavily. Her fingers ached, but the

Not yet.

her. She fought to stay awake, to keep trying, but her strength failed her. Her breathing slowed, her mind clouded, and before she could fight it,

***

is this patient? Why are police guarding this area?" asked a

read the news? Eleanor Whitmore. Second daughter of William Whitmore. She was kidnapped and raped. Police found her after

admitted to our hospital. I was off duty, I just joined today. Hey... poor child. Kidnapped from her own family's building, raped in their own warehouse. Did you check social media? Everybody is saying

fishy here. The three faces police published all look poor. How could they afford to flee abroad? Someone must have paid a big amount of money to cover this

woman. Everybody in the office loved her. She was a brilliant student and loved by her classmates.

knows... Rich families have a lot of internal problems. We couldn't guess their life from our position. Okay.

fingers are moving, her eyelashes too. Call the doctor

hurried footsteps. After some time, several more footsteps approached. Someone tried to force open her eyelids. Her vision

you hear me?" the man asked, moving his hand in front of her

out of

able to speak in two hours. I'm changing the medication. Keep the police

behind. After what felt like an eternity, Eleanor could finally move her head and saw a nurse sitting on a chair, playing with her mobile phone. She felt an unbearable thirst and tried hard to whisper,

her drink some water. Even sipping felt exhausting. After ensuring she was stable, the nurse hurried