2. A Freaking Werewolf World.
1205 Words
Mia POV
It wasn’t until I stepped outside my hospital room that the truth really hit me.
Everywhere I turned, there were unfamiliar faces.....eyes too sharp, movements too fast, bodies radiating that same unnatural strength I had seen from the doctor. For the first time in my life, I believed it. I wasn’t just in the wrong place. I was in the wrong world.
A freaking werewolf world.
Ridiculous. Silly. Unreal.
And yet…the air itself buzzed with something I couldn’t explain, something that whispered it was very, very real.
The maid—Zariah, she had introduced herself stayed glued to my side. I couldn’t figure her out. In the Mafia, loyalty was earned with blood, money, or fear. But this girl clung to me with a devotion that wasn’t shaken by my constant corrections.
I’d told her at least twenty times already: I am not Raine. I am Mia Volkov.
But every single time, she’d just smile softly, nod, and go right back to treating me like I was this “Raine.”
So, I let her. For now.
At the moment, she was carefully feeding me lunch, her hands steady, her expression gentle—as though I might shatter. It was unnerving. Nobody had ever handled me like glass.
“Only if you had your wolf powers,” she sighed, dabbing at the corner of my mouth with a cloth. “These minor wounds would have healed by now.”
My brows shot up. Wolf powers. Sure. Why not add fangs and tails while we’re at it.
“Wow, really? Fascinating,” I said dryly. “By the way, how did I even get these injuries?”
Her eyes softened with pity I didn’t ask for. “You really don’t remember, Raine?”
“Yes, Zariah. I don’t.” I forced my tone to be flat, convincing. “You heard the doctor—I have mild amnesia. How could I possibly remember anything?” I lied through my teeth, giving her the same poker face I used when lying to rival families in negotiations.
She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Yeah, right… I actually saw Miss Bella push you into the pool. I tried to confront her, but after all, I’m only a poor omega. The Beta took her side. So, I carried you to the hospital myself…”
I held up my hand, stopping her words. My mind snagged on one particular detail.
“So who exactly is this so-called Beta you’re talking about?” I asked slowly.
Zariah blinked. “That’s your father, Raine.”
My stomach dropped. I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste iron.
A father who sided against his own daughter? A father who didn’t spoil her, didn’t protect her, didn’t even care if she drowned?
That was impossible. Back in my world, my father—the great Dmitri Volkov—had treated me like the crown jewel of his empire. The men in our cartel feared him, but I had only ever seen softness in his eyes when they looked at me. I’d been adored. Protected. Spoiled until I thought it was my birthright.
And now?
Now I was the daughter of a man who saw me as worthless.
I leaned back in my chair, forcing my face into its usual mask of cool indifference. But deep inside, a sharp ache cut through me.
What kind of world have I been thrown into?
~~~~
“So what you’re saying,” I asked slowly, narrowing my eyes at Zariah, “is that Bella is actually the favorite daughter? That’s why he hates me? Because I’m illegitimate—some mistake from a one-night stand?”
If that was the case, it would at least make sense. Mafia men had their affairs, but illegitimate children were rarely cherished.
Zariah’s head snapped up for the first time ever. She looked very offended with my words. “Hell no! Bella is definitely not his daughter.”
I raised a brow, waiting.
“Bella and her mother have been staying with us since we were eleven,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of something long unsaid. “Her father died in a rogue attack, and the Beta… he took the initiative to take them in. At first, it seemed noble. But everything changed after that.”
I crossed my arms, forcing patience. “Changed how?”
“Your mother started getting sick. First small things—fatigue, weakness, dizzy spells. Instead of caring for her, the Beta focused all his attention on Bella and her mother. Whenever Madame tried to complain, he would dismiss her. He claimed she was being unnecessarily jealous, that she had no sympathy for a poor widow and her child. It continued until…” Zariah’s voice cracked a little. “…until it just became normal in the house.”
I felt something hot spike in my chest, anger cutting sharp and quick. “What the hell! Such a scumbag. He chose them over his own wife, his own daughter? He’s supposed to be a man, a leader—not some pathetic fool drooling after another woman’s family.” My voice rose, harsher than I intended, but I didn’t care.
Zariah’s eyes flickered nervously toward the door before lowering again. “Madame has been bedridden for years now. Receiving treatment, yes, but unresponsive. She barely recognizes anyone… except for you. Which is why nobody can know that you’ve lost your memory. If the Beta discovers it, he’ll have the perfect excuse to cast us both out.”
Her words landed heavy. I clenched my fists tightly until my nails dug crescents into my palms. Betrayal I could handle; betrayal from my so-called father was another beast entirely. I already detested the man. Now I loathed him.
Before I could say more, the shrill ring of a telephone shattered the silence. Zariah jumped, excused herself, and went to answer it.
When she returned, she forced a small smile. “By the way, the doctor said you can be discharged now. Isn’t that good news?”
“Oh, it’s excellent news,” I said smoothly, masking the venom boiling inside. “Before I forget, could you find me a mirror? I want to see how I look… let it sink in.”
She fetched a small mirror and placed it carefully into my hands.
I lifted it slowly, bracing myself.
What I saw made me gape.
Black curly hair, shoulder-length, framed a face that was softer, more delicate than the one I remembered. The facial structure was nice enough. The brows, lips, and eyes all aligned in a way that was… pretty. But what froze me were the eyes—those piercing blue eyes. The very same ones I had always seen in my old reflection.
“This is… f*****g me,” I whispered, a strange chill running down my spine. The resemblance was uncanny.
But then my gaze traced lower, to the pale skin, the thinner frame, the overall frailty of the girl staring back. The confidence, the luxury, the danger that used to radiate from me was gone.
The only difference is it’s just that I am looking at the poor and nerd version of me.
- Writer
