Chapter 42: Allessa
1710 Words
Allessa began to speak, and even though her voice was calm and respectful, my body didn’t trust the moment. I stayed very still, as if moving might make everything shatter. Kelly’s hand remained warm in mine, steady, while Dominic stayed close enough that I could feel his presence without needing to look at him.
That helped more than I could explain.
“I need you to understand something first,” Allessa said carefully. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t something I’m proud of. When you were admitted, I was instructed to follow a treatment plan already approved by Sir Ariott’s private medical board. I wasn’t allowed to question it.”
Her jaw tightened before she continued.
“At first, the medications were administered through your IV. They were labeled as stabilizers—vitamins, sedatives, supplements to help with stress and trauma.”
Kelly squeezed my hand gently.
“You deserve the truth,” she said softly. “And if it’s easier to see it for yourself, she brought the records.”
Allessa reached into her bag and pulled out several folders, placing them in my lap. The paper felt heavier than it should have, like it carried weight beyond ink.
As she spoke, I opened the first folder.
At first, the words didn’t register. Medical terminology blurred together—dosages, schedules, chemical compounds. Then my eyes caught on a word I recognized instinctively, even though I didn’t know why.
Wolfbane.
My breath hitched.
“That was the first substance,” Allessa continued quietly. “Small amounts, diluted, administered intravenously. Enough to weaken your body, not enough to kill you outright. It caused fatigue, nausea, dizziness… and memory disruption.”
I turned the page with shaking fingers.
Another word jumped out.
Silver nitrate.
Injected.
Not ingested.
Injected.
“That came later,” she said. “Also through the IV. Silver in the bloodstream damages wolves at a cellular level. Combined with wolfbane, it prevents healing. It keeps the body weak. Vulnerable.”
The room felt suddenly too quiet.
Dominic’s arm tightened around my waist, just slightly, grounding me.
I kept reading.
The next pages showed a transition.
IV discontinued. Oral medication introduced.
Capsules.
Tablets.
Daily doses.
Same compounds.
Just… easier to hide.
“When you were discharged,” Allessa said, her voice breaking just a little, “the same substances were moved into pill form. You were told they were for anxiety. For sleep. For headaches.”
My stomach twisted as understanding settled in.
“They caused prolonged weakness. Hormonal instability. Cognitive decline. Memory deterioration. Over time… dissociation.”
I swallowed hard, turning to the last report.
And that’s when I stopped breathing altogether.
Pregnancy detected.
Two weeks, three days.
Pregnancy terminated due to systemic toxicity.
The words swam.
I couldn’t hear anything for a moment—not Kelly, not Allessa, not even my own thoughts.
Then Allessa spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“The miscarriage wasn’t accidental. Your body couldn’t sustain life while being poisoned. By the time we realized what was happening… it was already too late.”
My hands began to tremble.
“That’s why you stayed weak,” she continued. “Why you were always tired. Why your memories started slipping. Why you couldn’t think clearly. It wasn’t stress, Thumper.”
She met my eyes, tears gathering.
“It was deliberate.”
Everything suddenly made sense.
The confusion.
The gaps.
The way my thoughts felt fogged, like they were dissolving before I could hold onto them.
The way I slowly stopped being myself.
I closed the folder, my chest aching as if something inside me had finally broken open.
And for the first time since waking up like this, I understood why my mind felt the way it did.
I wasn’t broken.
I had been systematically erased.
The room felt too small after that.
Too tight.
Too full of truths I wasn’t sure my heart could hold without splitting apart.
I didn’t realize I was shaking until Dominic moved.
He didn’t speak at first.
He didn’t demand my attention or pull the papers away from me.
He simply knelt in front of me.
Not as an Alpha.
Not as a wolf.
But as a man who loved me.
His hands came up slowly, giving me time to pull away if I needed to. When I didn’t, he rested them over mine—covering the folders, grounding me back into my body.
“Bunny,” he said softly, his voice rough in a way that told me he was holding himself together for me. “Look at me.”
I did.
His blue eyes weren’t burning with rage anymore. They weren’t sharp or commanding.
They were broken.
For me.
“I need you to hear this,” he continued quietly. “Not as your Alpha. Not as your mate. Just as Dominic.”
He took a breath, steadying himself.
“You are not weak because you trusted someone. You are not foolish for believing you were loved. You didn’t fail anyone.”
My throat closed.
“They hurt you because they couldn’t control you otherwise,” he said. “And even poisoned, even stripped of your memories, even terrified—your body fought. You fought.”
Tears spilled before I could stop them.
Dominic didn’t wipe them away.
He let them fall.
“I don’t love you because you’re my Luna,” he went on. “I don’t love you because of fate, or bonds, or marks.”
His hand pressed lightly over my heart.
“I love you because you are kind even when the world wasn’t. Because you still worry about others when you’re the one bleeding. Because even after everything, you’re still standing.”
I broke then.
A sound tore out of me that I didn’t recognize, and suddenly I was in his arms—clutching his shirt like he was the only solid thing left in the world.
Dominic wrapped around me instantly.
Not tight.
Not trapping.
Just enough to say I’ve got you.
“You don’t have to remember everything right now,” he murmured into my hair. “You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to forgive. You don’t have to choose me today, tomorrow, or ever.”
His lips pressed gently to my temple.
“I’ll love you anyway.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my voice barely there.
“What if I never remember who I was?”
His forehead touched mine.
“Then I’ll fall in love with who you are now,” he said without hesitation. “And if pieces come back later, I’ll love those too.”
A small, broken laugh escaped me through tears.
“You’re not scared?” I asked. “Of me being… different?”
He smiled softly.
“I’ve watched you change a dozen times already,” he said. “You were brave. Then scared. Then numb. Then kind again. Every version was you.”
His thumb brushed my cheek, reverent.
“You don’t need to be fixed for me to love you, Bunny.”
For the first time since waking up in a life that wasn’t mine, something inside my chest loosened.
Not healed.
Not whole.
But held.
And somehow… that was enough.
Kelly spoke softly trying not to ruin the moment but I knew we weren’t alone.
Her words wrapped around me like a blanket I didn’t know I was freezing without.
Kelly’s hand squeezed mine gently, grounding me when my thoughts threatened to scatter again.
“We all feel the same way about you, dear,” she continued softly. “The only difference is that I love you as the daughter I never had. Others love you as the mother figure you were becoming without even realizing it. As the friend they needed. As the caretaker who showed up even when she herself was hurting.”
My chest ached.
“Don’t ever believe we hate you for being human,” she said firmly. “If anything, we admire you for surviving in a world that was never kind to you.”
Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them.
But beneath the comfort, another fear twisted inside me—sharp and heavy.
I turned my head slowly toward Dominic.
He was still right there.
Still close.
Still choosing me.
And I didn’t understand how.
How could he look at me with that same love after learning I had lost a baby I never even knew existed?
How could he still want me when my body had failed in ways I didn’t remember consenting to?
My voice came out small.
“How can you still say all of that?” I asked him quietly. “After… after what I lost. After what they took from me.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened—not in anger at me, but at the cruelty of the truth.
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he took my hand and pressed it over his chest, right above his heart.
“Because that baby,” he said, voice thick but steady, “was loved. Even if you didn’t know. Even if they stole the chance from you.”
His eyes glistened, but he didn’t look away.
“And because losing our child doesn’t make you less to me,” he continued. “It makes me want to protect you more. Love you harder. Make sure no one ever gets close enough to hurt you like that again.”
A sob broke free from me.
Dominic leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.
“You didn’t fail me,” he whispered. “Your body didn’t betray you. They poisoned you. They weakened you. They stole time and memories and choices that were never theirs to take.”
His thumb brushed gently over my knuckles.
“I don’t love you in spite of what you lost,” he said. “I love you through it.”
Something inside me finally cracked open—not in pain, but in release.
For the first time since learning the truth, I didn’t feel alone in my grief.
I felt seen.
Held.
And loved—not for what I could give, not for what I was supposed to be, but simply for being me.
- Writer
