Chapter 6: Who I'm I?

Katherine Harrington

The first sensation wasn’t pain.

It was weight. Crushing, liquid weight, as if my bones had been replaced with wet concrete left to set.

My eyelids were sealed—glued by crust and time. When they finally cracked open, white light knifed straight through my skull. I flinched, a pathetic twitch. A sound scraped out of my throat: dry, ragged, not mine.

Where…?

The question floated, thin as smoke, unanswered.

No memories rose to meet it. No faces, no names, no yesterday. Just a vast, echoing hollow where my life should have been.

I tried to lift my hand.

It trembled an inch off the sheet before collapsing, heavy and useless. Something tugged at the back of it—a thin tube, clear fluid dripping in slow, mechanical rhythm. An IV.

Hospital.

The word existed, detached, like something read in a book once. But why? How?

A steady beep pulsed beside me. Heart monitor. Calm now.

Too calm.

Some buried instinct whispered it hadn’t always been this way—that the line had flatlined once, that hands had pounded my chest to drag the rhythm back.

My head throbbed as I turned it.

Stone walls, dark and ancient. Heavy velvet curtains framed arched windows. A low fire crackled in a carved hearth despite the room’s unnatural warmth.

This wasn’t any hospital I could imagine.

It was a castle wearing a hospital’s skin.

Then I saw him.

A man sat inches from the bed, chair pulled so close his knees nearly brushed the mattress.

Enormous. Broad as a doorway, carved from granite and shadow. Black hair fell loose across his forehead, silver threads glinting like frost in moonlight.

Storm-gray eyes locked on mine.

Predator-still. Unblinking.

The moment our gazes met, something deep in my chest ignited.

A warm vibration, instinctive, ancient. My pulse stuttered—not in fear, but recognition.

My body knew him.

My mind… had nothing.

He rose slowly. Wood scraped stone.

“You’re awake.”

Voice like distant thunder—deep, rough, calm, but edged with restraint.

I tried to swallow. My throat burned raw, scraped from something long and plastic.

“Who…?” The word fractured.

He stepped closer. One large hand hovered above mine—close enough to feel heat—then withdrew, as if touching me might break something fragile.

Up close, his scent hit: pine, woodsmoke, and something darker, wilder, metallic. Primal. It made my instincts coil tight.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

I shook my head—then winced as the motion sent fresh spikes through my temples.

“I… don’t know who I am.”

A beat of silence.

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in those gray depths.

The door opened.

A man in a white coat hurried in, freezing when he saw my eyes open.

“Good heavens. You’re awake.”

I blinked slowly. “Should I… not be?”

He approached, checking machines with practiced efficiency. “No, no—of course you should.” His voice softened. “Pain?”

“Head,” I rasped. “And… nothing else makes sense.”

He glanced at the big man beside my bed.

Something wordless passed between them—tight, loaded.

“Alpha Tyrant Luciano Zarkov,” the doctor said carefully, “may I speak with you outside?”

The man—Luciano—held my gaze one second longer.

Then he turned and left without a word. The door closed.

Silence swallowed the room again.

I stared at the ceiling, clawing at the emptiness inside my skull.

Nothing answered.

Minutes later the doctor returned alone, offering a careful smile.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Lost.”

“Understandable.” He sat. “Do you remember your name?”

I shook my head.

“Your name is Katherine Harrington.”

The syllables landed like they belonged to a stranger.

“You suffered a severe accident. Massive blood loss. Your brain… protected itself. Retrograde amnesia is common in cases like this. Memories may return in fragments—slowly.”

“So I forgot everything?”

“For now,” he said gently. “Rest. Let your body catch up.”

“And him… the man?”

A brief pause. “Alpha Tyrant Luciano Zarkov. President of the Republic. He’s the reason you’re alive. He found you. Brought you here. Saved you.”

My brows furrowed. “I was… running from something?”

“Easy, Katherine. Questions later. Rest now.”

He left after a few more gentle checks.

A nurse came in next—kind, quiet. She helped me to the bathroom on unsteady legs that felt borrowed. The tiles were heated stone. Towels monogrammed. This wasn’t a hospital wing.

This was someone’s home.

In the mirror, a stranger stared back—pale, hollow-eyed. A long, fresh scar curved angrily across my abdomen, pink and raised.

“What happened?” I whispered.

The nurse hesitated. “We… weren’t told details, ma’am. Just that it was bad.”

I traced the scar with trembling fingers.

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks.”

Two weeks.

An entire lifetime erased.

Back in bed, I lay still, trying to breathe around the void.

The door opened again.

Luciano stepped in. Cold air seemed to follow him.

“How do you feel now?”

“Better. Thank you…” I hesitated. “For saving me. The doctor said I owe you my life.”

He nodded once. No warmth, no denial.

He crossed to a small desk, picked up an apple, and began peeling it with deliberate strokes of a knife—methodical, almost meditative.

My eyes drifted to the bedside table. A phone. Mine, presumably.

I reached for it, fingers clumsy. Pressed the power button.

“Do we… know each other?” I asked.

“No.”

The screen woke.

Notifications flooded in, rapid and vicious.

KATHERINE!! PICK UP!

YOU DISGUST ME. HELEN NEEDS YOUR KIDNEY!

ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN? SELFISH BITCH!

All from one contact.

Saved as: Love of my life.

My stomach twisted. No love sounded like that.

The phone rang suddenly, speaker blaring before I could stop it.

Hubby Love flashing.

I looked up at Luciano.

He hadn’t turned.

“Am I… married?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

The call connected automatically.

A man’s voice exploded through the room, furious, entitled.

“KATHERINE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? HELEN NEEDS YOUR KIDNEY! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU RAN AWAY INSTEAD OF SAVING HER!”

Ice flooded my veins.

My hands shook so hard the phone nearly slipped.

If that was my husband…

Then who was the predator standing across the room—

the one my body recognized even when my mind screamed *stranger*?

And why did his gray eyes darken now, like a storm finally breaking?