Trapped in a Wolf Novel

My name is Carolina Williams, and I have a confession to make: I’m addicted... to werewolf novels. Yes, I know, it sounds weird, but who cares? After spending all day dealing with patients, diagnoses, and bosses who think I’m an emotionless machine, who wouldn’t want to escape for a bit? Most people watch movies, hang out with friends, or exercise to relax. Me? I get lost in stories where the wolves are alphas, the protagonist is always a clumsy but lovable girl, and the villains are... well, incredibly attractive and despicable at the same time. Why do you do this to me? I ask myself every time the tyrant werewolf keeps doing his thing in the story. Working as a doctor is constant chaos. Everyone assumes that because I have a respectable job and a white coat, my life is perfectly organized. What they don’t know is that I’m exhausted from so much injustice, from seeing how the world doesn’t always reward effort or kindness. And, of course, when I read a scene where the protagonist suffers at the hands of the cruel werewolf, and he keeps getting away with it, it makes my stomach turn! If I could jump into those stories, I’d teach more than one wolf a lesson! But I’m not the type to stay quiet. If I don’t like something, I let it be known. When the protagonist forgives too easily, bam! Furious comment at the end of the chapter. "You can’t be that naïve, please!" But here I am, always coming back for more, because these stories are my escape from reality. While others dream of paradise beaches, I dream of power struggles, impossible romances, and, of course, a few wolves that make me roll my eyes (and sometimes, I won’t lie, sigh a little). Although I complain a lot, I can’t help but love these stories. They’re my refuge after endless days at the hospital. And as much as I curse those tyrant wolves, I keep devouring chapter after chapter like it’s the last one. Because at the end of the day, a little werewolf drama is what I need to survive. I’m thirty, single, childless, and my only company at home is a diabetic cat that, of course, I have to take care of like she’s the queen of the universe. So, between measuring the cat’s sugar levels and prescribing meds at the hospital, I don’t have much time for myself. Or so I thought until I discovered the Dreame app to read books on my phone. That’s where my life changed because reading on Dreame... that was on another level. The crown jewel was one novel in particular: Claimed by the Wolf King. My God, what a story! A cold, ruthless, tyrant wolf that made you want to throw your phone at the wall out of sheer frustration. One of those characters that exasperates you with just a single line of dialogue. But of course, there I was, hooked to the core with every chapter. I couldn’t put it down. I remember it was an especially exhausting afternoon at work, but my mind was elsewhere—specifically, in the world of alpha wolves. I was leaving the hospital, completely absorbed in the final chapters of the novel. "How can the protagonist keep putting up with this guy?" I wondered, so lost in the story that I didn’t even notice what was happening around me... until I felt the impact. Literally. A car hit me, and everything went dark. Everything happened in a split second, but in that moment, time seemed to stop. I felt the impact of the car, a hard, blunt blow that lifted me off the ground. Suddenly, I was flying. Flying. My phone slipped from my hands, spinning in the air with me, like some cruel joke. I could clearly see it in the corner of my vision, the screen still lit, the final chapter of Claimed by the Wolf King flickering before disappearing into the distance. The cold air cut my skin as the world spun around me in slow motion. I closed my eyes, terrified. That millisecond before losing control, before the pain hit, only one thought crossed my mind: I want to live. Just before I could process what was happening, a small light flashed from my phone, blinding but faint at the same time. It flickered once. "What...?" How the hell did I end up here? was my first thought when I opened my eyes. All I remembered was the car crash, but instead of waking up in a hospital room, surrounded by nurses and the hum of monitors, I was staring at... trees. Giant, thick, almost oppressive in their height, like walls of wood closing in around me. I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. This doesn’t make sense, I thought as I looked at my hands. They looked... the same, but also, not. My nails were longer and dirty, like I’d been in the forest for days. When I glanced down, the shock hit harder: my clothes—or rather, the lack of them—was what threw me off the most. A poorly fitted loincloth of furs covered the bare minimum, leaving most of my skin exposed. What kind of joke is this? I tried to rationalize it, I swear. My brain immediately sought logical explanations. Maybe I’m still unconscious... this is a dream induced by the trauma of the accident. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to organize my thoughts. But nothing made sense. How did I end up in a forest? The last clear memory I had was leaving the hospital, lost in my phone, and then the car... the crash. Why wasn’t I in the hospital? Why am I naked? And more importantly, what the hell is going on? I rubbed my arms, not because I was cold, but because the situation made me feel vulnerable, out of place. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. I looked around, searching for something—anything—that could explain what was happening. But the forest remained silent, with only the sound of the wind brushing through the leaves. It was as if the world had decided to mock me, throwing me into the middle of nowhere and leaving me with no clues. Then, a disturbing thought crossed my mind: What if this isn’t a dream? What if I’m really here? I woke up on the damp ground of the forest. My first thought was logical: No, I’m definitely not in the hospital. I slowly got up, looking around, trying to understand what was happening. A forest? The trees were so tall they seemed to compete to see who could reach the sky first, and the smell of nature was so intense that it couldn’t be a simple hallucination. This has to be a dream, induced by the accident, of course... But everything felt too real. I started walking, trying to calm myself, but I noticed something strange. I felt... lighter. My feet barely made any noise, as if my steps were more precise and agile. The sounds of the forest reached me with crystal clarity: I could hear the whispers of the wind, the distant crunch of leaves, and, strangest of all, a smell that shouldn’t have been there... Fresh meat? I looked into the distance, and sure enough, a column of smoke rose on the horizon. But how can I smell meat from here? Logic told me I should get closer to investigate, but before I could take a step, I heard a voice. At first, it was like a murmur, soft and barely perceptible. Then, the buzzing sound enveloped me: "Who are you?" A chill ran down my spine, and before I could process it, I blinked... and found myself in a completely different place. A dark horizon. Everything was black, like I was in limbo. My breathing quickened, and before I could speak, I heard growls around me. "You’re not my human," the voice repeated, now more guttural and fierce. My heart raced, and my hands trembled. "What is this place?" I asked aloud, desperate for answers. Without thinking, I started running. It didn’t matter which direction—I had nowhere to go because there was nothing. Damn darkness. My feet tripped, and I fell to the ground. I could feel the creature getting closer, the sound of its paws scraping the ground, and I couldn’t escape. "I don’t know who you are, but I won’t let you kill me that easily," I shouted, my voice trembling but firm. I clenched my fists and got into a defensive stance as if facing a creature in the dark was the most normal thing in the world. If I survived street fights and the neighborhood where I grew up, this won’t stop me. The creature passed near me, and I instinctively threw a punch. Thanks, boxing classes in college, I thought. The voice returned, stronger this time. "Who are you?" it demanded. I swallowed hard, and though my voice shook, I answered. "My name is Carolina." This was insane. A complete madness. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see the silhouette of the creature... it wasn’t human. It was big, imposing... a wolf. "You’re not my human. Who are you to inhabit her body?" growled the creature, now more visible. Its gray fur glowed under a light I couldn’t place. There was something majestic and terrifying about its figure.