My Alpha Locked Me Away for His Mistress

The first thing I notice is the pain.

It's everywhere—a dull, throbbing ache that pulses through my skull like someone's taken a hammer to it. My eyelids feel heavy, weighted down, and when I finally manage to pry them open, harsh fluorescent lights stab into my vision. I wince, turning my head away, and that's when the panic sets in.

Where am I?

The room smells sterile. Antiseptic. There's the steady beep of a heart monitor somewhere to my left, and beneath that, the faint scent of pine and earth. Pack territory. The knowledge comes instinctively, though I can't explain how I know it.

I try to sit up, but my body protests. Everything hurts. My ribs, my back, even my fingers feel bruised and tender. What happened to me?

"Easy there." A woman's voice, calm and professional. I turn my head—slowly this time—and see a middle-aged woman in a white coat standing beside my bed. Her dark hair is pulled back in a neat bun, and her eyes are kind but concerned. "You've been through quite an ordeal, Lyla. Don't push yourself."

Lyla. That's my name. I know that much, at least.

"What... what happened?" My voice comes out raspy, like I haven't used it in days.

The doctor—Dr. Cross, according to the name tag on her coat—exchanges a glance with someone behind her. "You had a fall. A bad one. You've been unconscious for two days."

A fall. The word echoes in my mind, but there's nothing there. No memory of falling, no memory of anything before waking up in this bed. It's like someone took an eraser to my brain and wiped everything clean.

The door opens, and two people walk in. The man is tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes that could cut through steel. He moves with the kind of confidence that demands attention, and something deep inside me responds to his presence. My wolf stirs—I can feel her there, a presence in the back of my mind—and she's... reaching for him?

Daddy.

The word surfaces in my consciousness like a lifeline, and suddenly everything makes sense. This is my father. I don't know how I know, but I do. The certainty of it washes over me, warm and safe.

"Daddy!" I reach for him, my voice breaking with relief.

He freezes. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, something flickers across his face—shock? Disgust? But then it's gone, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

The woman beside him steps forward. She's beautiful, with honey-blonde hair and delicate features, though there's something sharp in her eyes that makes me uneasy. But when she smiles at me, it's warm and motherly, and my wolf relaxes.

"Oh, sweetheart," she coos, moving to my bedside. "You gave us such a fright."

Mommy. The word comes just as naturally as the first, and I reach for her hand. She takes it, her fingers cool against my skin.

Dr. Cross clears her throat. "Alpha Stone, could I speak with