Eight

Melinda’s POV

Five days had passed since I woke up in this strange pack.

The cuts on my body were healing and the claw marks across my back no longer felt like they were on fire every time I moved.

The bruises covering my ribs had faded from deep purple to yellow and the dizziness came less often now.

Physically, I was recovering.

Emotionally? Not even close.

I sat near the large window of my room, staring out at the snow-covered training grounds below.

My hand rested on my stomach.

It seemed to stay there constantly these days, almost like I needed to reassure myself every few minutes that they’re still here, still alive and safe.

The thought brought comfort and pain.

Because every time I think about my babies...I remember the one I lost.

I closed my eyes trying not to think about it but immediately another memory tried to surface.

Kael.

I pushed that away too.

Lately that has become a habit.

I forced myself to shut it down and focus on the babies, unfortunately, the two were utterly impossible to separate.

Every time the nurse checked the twins' heartbeats, the rhythmic sound reminded me of the father who had rejected them.

I stood up to get water and I was relieved no one was in the room to fuss over me.

Everyone in the pack clinic was strange about how they treated me.

It didn't feel like a normal hospital stay at all. The nurses fussed over me constantly, fluffing my pillows every hour and checking my temperature with obsessive care.

Two tall, heavily built pack guards were always stationed right outside my door.

Every single meal brought to my bedside was specially prepared, steaming with rich nutrients and fresh herbs meant to build blood.

The staff wouldn't even allow me to lift a heavy water pitcher.

The moment my fingers brushed the glass handle, a nurse would gently but firmly take it from me.

It felt less like medical treatment and more like I was a precious, highly guarded secret being fiercely protected from the outside world.

A knock sounded on the door.

Before I could answer, the door opened and Nurse Clara entered carrying a tray.

Again I almost laughed.

She smiled brightly. "Time for lunch."

I stared at the tray. There were three different soups.

"You need to drink all of this, dear. It's boiled spinach and iron root," her voice interrupted my thoughts.

“It’s enough food for three people and I already ate.”

She placed everything carefully on the table. "You need it and that was breakfast."

I sighed. The woman had become impossible to argue with. Actually, everyone here had.

This wasn't how pregnant women were treated in Blackwood. There, pregnancy had always seemed normal but here...

It felt like everyone viewed it as something precious.

A movement outside the door caught my attention. It was a guard.

"Clara."

"Mm?"

"Why is there always a guard outside?"

The nurse immediately looked busy rearranging fruit.

She sighed. "It’s Pack orders."

"From who?"

She said nothing and that told me enough. It was from the Alpha.

The mysterious Alpha who still hadn't returned after visiting me that first day.

I had only seen him once.

The door opened again saving Clara from answering.

Three elderly women entered carrying knitting supplies and baskets.

I smiled automatically, they visited every day.

And unlike most people I'd known in Blackwood… They genuinely seemed happy to see me.

They were gentle, silver-haired matrons who explained that they helped care for pregnant women and young pups throughout the pack.

They sat by my bed for hours, teaching me what foods to eat, what symptoms to expect in the coming weeks, and how to track the twins' growing energy.

However, one elder in particular, a woman named Martha with sharp but kind green eyes, seemed completely fascinated by me.

That after she didn't just focus on the pregnancy.

Instead, she began asking unusual, highly specific questions about my childhood.

"Melinda, dear," Martha called softly, leaning forward in her chair while the other women knitted nearby.

"Did you know your parents? Your mother or your father?"

I shook my head, a bit surprised by the question.

"No. I grew up an orphan on the neutral pack lands."

"And what about siblings?" another elder chimed in, pausing her knitting needles.

"Did you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No," I answered honestly, looking between their intent faces.

"I was entirely alone. I know almost nothing about my family or where I was born.

The orphanage records were destroyed in a fire when I was very young."

Martha exchanged a quick, heavy look with the other women in the room.

The sudden shift in the air made me nervous. The expressions on their aged faces became increasingly emotional, and Martha’s eyes shined.

Confused and a little unsettled, I gripped the edge of my blanket.

"What is it? Why are you all looking at me like that? What is happening?"

Martha stood up, walking slowly to the side of my bed.

With a trembling hand, she pointed toward my left side.

"Melinda... the mark on the back of your shoulder. The one shaped like a crescent moon wrapped in thorns.

Is that a birthmark?"

Instinctively, a defensive wave of fear hit me. I pulled my thick blanket closer around my shoulders, covering the skin.

"Yes," I said, nodding slowly, my voice cautious.

"I’ve had it my entire life. Why?"

The moment the confirmation left my lips, the women immediately began whispering among themselves in frantic, hushed tones.

"It’s her," one gasped, covering her mouth.

"The exact placement, the exact shape," another murmured, her hands shaking as she dropped her knitting into her lap.

Their excitement became entirely impossible to hide.

They were looking at me as if I were a ghost, their eyes wide and their breathing shallow.

The overwhelming confusion was making my heart race.

"Please, stop whispering!" I demanded, my voice rising as I stared at them.

"Tell me what you are talking about. What does my birthmark have to do with anything?"

Martha abruptly rose from her chair, her face pale with an emotion I couldn't quite define.

She turned to Clara who was standing near the door.

"Go and summon the Beta to this room immediately. Tell him he needs to come right now."

The nurse nodded quickly and sprinted out of the room, her heavy footsteps fading down the corridor.

My confusion grew into absolute panic. I pressed my back against the headboard, looking at Martha.

"Martha, please. You are frightening me. What is going on?"

The old woman turned back toward me, her eyes trembling as she stepped closer to the bed.

She reached out, her wrinkled, warm hands gently taking mine, holding them with a reverence that took my breath away.

"We don't mean to frighten you, child," Martha whispered, a tear rolling down her wrinkled cheek.

"But that mark is the royal crest of our bloodline.

We think you may be the long-lost daughter of our former Luna."