Marked By the Pureblood Alpha (Deanna and Luis) novel Chapter 155

**Chapter 155: What Happened Back Then**

**Deanna’s POV:**

It was her. The woman I had hoped never to see again—Dorothy!

Her glare pierced through the distance that separated us, a venomous hatred radiating from her like a palpable force. I felt it crawling over my skin, a chilling reminder of the past.

My hands shook ever so slightly, a physical manifestation of the turmoil swirling within me. I had been convinced that she would rot away in a werewolf prison, far removed from my life, and yet here she stood, defiant and dangerous.

A member of the enforcement team, vigilant and watchful, noticed that Dorothy had come to an abrupt halt. He shoved her roughly, and she stumbled forward, but her eyes remained locked onto mine, unwavering and fierce.

It was only when her frail silhouette finally slipped through the hospital doors that I allowed myself to exhale, my body instinctively crouching down, seeking refuge from the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf me.

For a fleeting moment, my thoughts wandered back to the year I had returned to the Mistbane Pack, a time that felt both distant and achingly close.

Back then, I was a whirlwind of activity, juggling multiple part-time jobs just to make ends meet. The days blurred together, each one a frantic race against time.

Then came that fateful day, a day that would alter the course of my life. As I crossed the street, lost in my thoughts, a sleek, expensive car came barreling toward me. The impact was jarring, and I remember the sharp pain that followed.

When the car door swung open, the first thing that wafted out was a scent so familiar it sent shivers down my spine.

An elderly lady emerged, her posture slightly bent as she leaned on a dark brown cane, adorned with a delicate silver wolf carving. She approached me, her presence radiating warmth and concern. As her fingers brushed against my skin, an electric sensation coursed through me, as if I had been branded.

“Child, are you alright? Come, let me take you to the hospital for a check-up,” she urged, her voice soft and soothing, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

It was only later that I discovered her identity—Helena, the revered matriarch of the Mistbane Pack, my grandmother.

Even though my werewolf bloodline had yet to awaken, the instinctual bond of kinship pulsed within me, unmistakable and undeniable.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. “Grandma! Don’t be fooled by her!”

The back door of the luxurious car swung open with a flourish, and a girl emerged, her expression a mix of anger and disdain.

“She’s just pretending to get money from you! Give her a few hundred bucks and send her on her way! I have to get to the werewolf socialite gathering. If I’m late, I’ll be the laughingstock!”

That was my first encounter with Jillian. Dressed in a designer gown, she carried herself with an air of superiority, looking down at me as if I were nothing more than dirt beneath her shoes.

In that moment, I was struck by a memory—a vivid recollection of the photo album that Dorothy had cherished so dearly.

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