Marked By the Pureblood Alpha (Deanna and Luis) novel Chapter 214

**Chapter 214 Not My Mother**

**Deanna’s POV:**

As I stepped out of the VIP room, a profound emptiness enveloped me, leaving me feeling like a mere shadow of my former self. I was adrift, my mind a haze of confusion and dread. Without conscious thought, my feet carried me along the sterile hallway that led to the operating room, each step heavy with the weight of my thoughts.

There, just beyond the threshold, I caught sight of Barbara and Thora, their anxious figures silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lights, still waiting anxiously by the door. But instead of approaching them, I found myself leaning against the cool, unforgiving wall, seeking solace in its solidity as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts.

Moments later, the doors to the operating room swung open with a suddenness that made my heart race. A team of doctors emerged, pushing a stretcher that bore Jake. The sight of him, so vulnerable and still, sent a wave of panic crashing over me.

I heard Barbara’s voice pierce the tension, filled with desperation. “Doctor, how’s my son? Is he going to be okay?” Her plea hung in the air, thick with fear.

The lead doctor, his face serious yet reassuring, replied, “The surgery was a success. Fortunately, the injury narrowly missed his heart. Given his werewolf constitution, which is stronger than average, he should recover swiftly.”

Thora, unable to contain her emotions any longer, burst into tears of relief. “Thank you, Doctor! Thank you so much!” Her gratitude echoed in the hallway, a balm to my frayed nerves.

As I absorbed the news, a warmth spread through my chest, slowly easing the tightness that had gripped my heart. Thank God. Perhaps tonight wouldn’t end in complete disaster after all…

The following day, I found myself summoned to the Werewolf Enforcement Bureau, the air thick with tension as I entered the interrogation room. There, sitting defiantly despite her cuffs, was Dorothy. Her dull gaze held a glint of malice, a flicker of the rage that lay beneath the surface.

The moment our eyes met, I felt the heat of her hatred wash over me. She sprang from her seat, her movements frantic as she attempted to lunge toward me, but the enforcers flanking her quickly restrained her.

“All I did was teach a disrespectful daughter a lesson!” she screamed, her voice a mixture of hysteria and indignation. “What crime is that? I raised her for twenty years! I am her mother! A mother has every right to discipline her daughter!”

“Quiet!” one of the enforcers barked, his tone icy and commanding.

“Did you have any accomplices this time?” he probed, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her reaction.

At this, I noticed a flicker of uncertainty cross Dorothy’s face, her bravado faltering. “What accomplices? Deanna hasn’t spoken to me in three years! She’s cold and heartless! I just snapped after getting out of prison, that’s all!”

I shot her a steely glare, my heart pounding as I followed the squad leader into the adjoining room to provide my statement.

The squad captain, clearly well-versed in Dorothy’s narrative, wasted no time. “This human—she’s your mother?”

“No,” I replied, my voice firm and unwavering.

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