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.

mother to worry, so I smiled

was already moved to tears. His face was filled with something I could

resolved the problem with my mother? I wondered

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

daughter..." he whispered, his

him back. The warmth seeped into me, making me feel something I had never felt before in my entire life. Maybe

who had loved me like this before I lost my

before I could dwell on it, another pair of arms joined

everything felt perfect. A family.

I noticed something. My

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

ask, he slowly pulled back. He placed his hand gently on my head, patting it softly. His eyes looked deep into mine. "Let’s go. You can also see where your

smiled at us, her eyes glinting

go with us. She was the mother of witches, and the coven needed

one last time,

faintly, if everything truly was

was made. We were going

I should not go...I

beside me, his hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles pale. He did not look at me. His eyes stayed forward, his jaw clenched as if he was holding back words he

us felt thick and strange. My hands twisted together in my lap, restless, while I tried not

to say something—anything—but my throat refused to open. The word "father" rose inside me again, and once more,

we sat there, both of us trapped in

time felt frozen. Every

didn’t know if it was because I wanted to speak... or because I was afraid of what

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

slightly,

a werewolf,"