The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 162: Chapter 162: Am I a Lycan?

Serena’s POV~

The next morning when I woke up, I felt strange. My head was heavy, and when I tried to remember what happened last night, there were only some of my mother’s words, but I don’t remember how I fell asleep. Aside from this, nothing came to me.

I sat on the bed for a while, blinking, and then after freshening up, I walked toward the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, pale and tired, with eyes that looked as if they carried shadows. I combed my hair slowly, watching each strand fall in place, but my thoughts kept drifting.

Why could I not remember? I tried to think of my childhood, but all I could see was this house, these rooms, and my mother’s face. Nothing else. It was like there were holes in my mind, big empty spaces where something important should have been.

I touched my forehead lightly and whispered to myself, "Did I... really hit my head so badly?"

When I asked my mother, she had only smiled at me sadly and said, "Yes, my child, you had an injury. That is why you have forgotten everything. But it’s fine. You still have me."

Somehow, her words made sense. But deep inside, it felt wrong. I knew she was a witch. And strangely, I knew I was one too. But why couldn’t I remember the coven? Why did I not remember my life there? Were there no people in my life? No friends, no one who cared for me? Why had no one come to see me?

The thought made my chest feel heavy. I mumbled to myself, "Maybe I really did have a big head injury... and that’s why I’ve forgotten everything. But it’s good... at least I still remember my mother. And our life together. I’ve only forgotten the coven."

I combed my hair again, staring into the mirror. A faint ache spread in my skull the more I thought about it, sharp enough to make me wince. I quickly stopped thinking and pressed my lips together. "It doesn’t matter," I whispered. "It’s better this way."

Just then, the door pushed open.

My mother walked inside, her face glowing with a strange pride. "My daughter is looking so beautiful today... just like the moon."

A small smile tugged at my lips. I lowered my gaze shyly.

But then I saw him...standing right behind her. The man. My supposed father.

My breath caught in my throat. My mother’s words from last night echoed faintly in my mind—though I could not remember clearly what had happened. She had said he was my father. That we were a family. A happy family.

So I forced myself to smile sweetly and greeted him. But when I tried to call him "Father," the word stuck in my throat. It felt strange and wrong. I had never called anyone by that name before. Maybe it was because I never had a father figure in my life. Or maybe... I just did not want to.

my mother to worry, so I

his, I froze. He was already moved to tears. His face was filled with something I could not understand...pain, relief, longing. He looked so deeply concerned about

resolved the problem with my mother? I wondered

were strong, trembling, yet full of warmth. My eyes

he whispered,

making me feel something I had never felt before in my entire life. Maybe because I

my life who had loved me

arms joined the embrace. My

a moment, everything felt perfect. A family. Just

I noticed something. My father stiffened slightly

blinked in confusion. Did he still feel uncomfortable with her? Why? They were supposed to be together. We

gently on my head, patting it softly. His

slowly, my gaze drifting to my mother. She only smiled

She was the

her one last time,

wondered again, faintly, if everything truly was as simple

made. We were going to

resisted like a quiet voice whispering that I should not go...I still followed him. I told myself this was right. This

steering wheel too tightly, knuckles pale. He did not look at me. His eyes stayed

my back pressed against the seat. The air between us felt thick and strange. My hands twisted together in my lap,

rose inside me again, and once more, it stuck. My lips

we sat there, both of us trapped in silence.

felt frozen. Every tick of the clock was

was because I wanted to speak... or because I was afraid of what might

time until at last he cleared his throat. His voice

head slightly, waiting

am... a werewolf,"