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.

didn’t want my mother to worry, so I

was already moved to tears. His face was filled with something I could not understand...pain, relief, longing. He looked so deeply concerned about me that it made my heart

resolved the problem with my mother?

hug. His arms were strong, trembling, yet full of warmth. My eyes widened as I felt

he whispered, his

in my entire life. Maybe because

there truly no one in my life who had loved me like this before I lost

before I could dwell on it, another pair of arms joined the embrace. My mother. She hugged us both, her smile

perfect. A family. Just

then I noticed something. My father stiffened slightly in

Did he still feel uncomfortable with her? Why? They were supposed to

patting it softly. His eyes looked deep into mine. "Let’s go. You can also see where your father lives,

mother. She only smiled at us,

course, she could not go with us. She was the mother of witches, and the coven

I looked at her one last time, then turned back

wondered again, faintly, if everything truly was as

made. We were

should not go...I still followed him. I told myself this

we sat inside the car, the silence was heavy. My father sat stiffly beside me, his hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles pale. He did not look at me. His eyes stayed forward,

seat. The air between us felt thick and strange. My hands twisted together in my lap, restless, while I

throat refused to open. The word "father" rose inside me again, and

there, both of us trapped in

frozen. Every tick of the

because I wanted to speak... or because

time until at last he cleared his throat. His voice was low,

my head slightly, waiting

a