I woke up to a searing pain in my head, as though hundreds of needles were burrowing into my skull. Groaning, I forced my eyes open and found myself staring at a… white room? The walls were pristine, almost blinding, their sterility unnerving.
Then it all came rushing back—the memories of the last few hours. My car brakes had failed. I'd lost control, skidding wildly before plunging off a small cliff. A shiver ran down my spine as dark eyes flashed in my mind. The Angel of Death. I remembered him vividly—his sharp jawline, his deep gaze. But... was I dead now?
"Didn't know heaven had rooms," I thought, trying to turn my head but i could not move an inch. But something didn't add up. The pain. The dizziness. This wasn't the serene afterlife I'd imagined. My heart began to race.
"Am I in hell?" the thought striking like a bolt of lightning. "Oh no."
"You're awake," a voice said from somewhere on my left. I tried to turn my head, but my body refused to obey. Am I hearing things now?
A man appeared in my peripheral vision, stepping closer. He had curly brown hair, a white coat, and a notepad in his hands. His expression was calm, clinical, yet there was something almost reassuring in his demeanor.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, pressing something on the side of my bed. A soft whirring sound followed, and the bed shifted slightly, easing some of the pressure on my aching body.
It hit me then—I was alive. The stark room, the sterile scent, the machines softly beeping around me. I was in a hospital. But the memory of those dark eyes lingered, vivid and unshakable. I swear I saw the Angel of Death, maybe I was hallucinating.
I tried to open my mouth to speak, to ask questions, but no sound came out. My throat felt dry and uncooperative.
"Don't push yourself," he said gently, noticing my struggle. "You fell off a cliff, and your injuries are pretty severe. You're very fortunate."
He paused, scribbling something on his notepad before continuing. "We were lucky to have a medwitch available. It's rare for witches to visit our pack, but today was your lucky day. Our alpha had a meeting with them. If they hadn't been here, you likely wouldn't have made it."
His words sank in slowly. A medwitch? Pack? Alpha? My thoughts scrambled to piece it all together. Where was i? He was not someone from my pack. Did i stumble into another pack's territory?
"You'll heal in two weeks. You humans take months just to recover," he continued without noticing my inner turmoil, as if marveling at a strange phenomenon. He seemed eager to talk, his excitement bubbling over. "Fascinating creatures," he added, more to himself than to me.
I wasn't in any state to care. My focus shifted inward as I attempted to move my legs, ignoring his chatter. But nothing responded—everything was numb. Panic started to creep in, but before it could fully take hold, more memories surged forward, unbidden and sharp.
A sharp ache tore through my chest, releasing the numbness as I remembered why I was in the car. My heart clenched; the pain almost unbearable.
The sound of doors opening broke through my spiraling thoughts, and several people filed into the room.
The guy besides me stopped abruptly, his voice tinged with panic. "Whoa, what happened? Why do I smell sadness on you?"
I couldn't respond, couldn't even bring myself to look at him. My tears betrayed me, spilling uncontrollably down my face despite my efforts to stop them. "You'll be fine," he said quickly, trying to reassure me. "Don't cry. You're a werewolf. You'll heal fast."
His words barely registered, drowned out by the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
"What's happening?" another voice asked, softer but filled with concern. I couldn't see who it was, but I could sense the presence of several people around me, their energy buzzing in the air.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I forced myself to pull in the chaotic storm of emotions, reigning them in until they formed a small, compact ball. I buried it deep in my heart, locking it away for now.
"She must be scared," a gentle voice said, cutting through the noise. It was soothing, familiar—like a lifeline tethering me to reality. "Leave this room."
The room grew still as the others hesitated, then began to shuffle out, one by one.
"I just found out," Sierra said softly as she sat beside me, taking my hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"What? That I fell off a cliff? It's so embarrassing," I muttered, trying to deflect my emotions with humor. "How am I even going to tell this story? I'm a werewolf, Sierra, and I got injured because of human technology. It's a shame. I wish these wounds were from a cool battle or something, you know… something worthy."
"Lia," she interrupted, her tone gentle yet firm. She took my hand in both of hers, her warmth grounding me. Lifting them to her lips, she pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles, her eyes brimming with understanding.
"It's okay to mourn your relationship," she said quietly, her words cutting through my facade.
I stiffened, the ache in my chest flaring up again. "It was all a lie," I said bitterly, my voice trembling. "There was nothing there to begin with. How can I mourn the loss of something I never really had?"
Sierra shook her head slightly, her expression soft but unwavering. "I felt your sadness, Lia. We all did. It was like a tidal wave crashing into us. You may think there was nothing, but your heart believed in it, even if your mind didn't. That's why it hurts so much."