Chapter 33 Chapter 33

Chapter 33 Chapter 33
He sat her in his car, locking the seatbelt tight across her chest before she could even think of escaping. Zarlia’s breaths came out in angry bursts, her chest rising and falling as her hands pulled at the belt restraining her.
“Let me go, Stetson!” she shouted, the sharp edge of her voice slicing through the tense silence of the car.
He didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle ticked along the side of his face. If he looked at her—really looked at her—he didn’t know what he’d do. She was flushed, furious, her hair falling out of place, sticking to her skin from sweat and the remnants of her struggle. Her perfume mixed with the faint scent of alcohol and salt—remnants of the club—and it drove him insane.
He gripped the steering wheel hard enough to crack the leather beneath his palm. The engine roared to life, the headlights slicing through the night.
Zarlia turned her face toward the window, her reflection a blur in the glass. “I don’t want to be with you anymore,” she said, her voice trembling though she tried to hide it. “I want to be on my own.”
His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. The words hit harder than any blade.
He spoke quietly, dangerously calm. “You’re not leaving me, Zarlia.”
She scoffed, trying to sound braver than she felt. “You can’t control everything, Stetson. You can’t keep me trapped just because you’re afraid of being alone.”
He glanced at her then, just for a second—and that second was enough to break him. Her eyes, glistening with tears she refused to let fall, were filled with a pain he couldn’t name. He looked away quickly, jaw tight. “I would never hurt you,” he said, voice low, raw. “You know that.”
But she didn’t believe him. Not anymore.
Zarlia shook her head violently, struggling against the seatbelt, her hands pushing against it like it was a prison. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, her lips trembling as frustration spilled from her chest in broken breaths. “You already did, Stetson. You just don’t know it yet.”
He didn’t respond. The sound of her crying filled the car, mingling with the hum of the engine. He gripped the wheel harder and kept driving, his silence louder than her sobs.
When they reached the house, he parked abruptly, got out, and before she could run, he was at her door. He opened it, leaned down, and without a word, lifted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“Put me down!” she screamed, pounding her fists against his back.
He didn’t. His steps were steady, controlled, but every movement was charged with a restrained fury.
Inside, Mimi looked up from the couch where she was lazily scrolling on her phone, a bowl of chips balanced on her lap. Her eyes widened when she saw them—Zarlia squirming over her brother’s shoulder, kicking and shouting—then she immediately covered her mouth to hold in a laugh.
“Don’t stay up late,” Stetson said gruffly as he walked past, his tone clipped and calm, though his eyes burned with quiet rage. “Turn off the lights when you go to bed.”
Mimi nodded quickly, her lips twitching. “Sure thing, big bro,” she said, trying not to laugh as Zarlia kicked her heels in the air.
“Mimi!” Zarlia yelled. “Help me!”
But Mimi just gave a helpless shrug. “Sorry, Luna. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”
Stetson didn’t stop until they reached his room. He pushed the door open and dropped Zarlia gently onto the bed, but his patience was slipping like water through his fingers.
Zarlia immediately sat up, her eyes blazing. “You can’t just drag me here like I’m your property!”
Stetson took a slow, steady breath and looked down at her. “Why were you at the club?”
Her defiance flickered for a moment, then hardened again. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Where I go isn’t your business.”
“It is when you disappear for days without a word,” he said, voice dangerously low.
She laughed bitterly. “What, you expected me to stay after what I heard? After finding out you were planning to eat my heart?”
His brows furrowed, confusion cutting through his anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she snapped, standing on the bed so she could meet his eyes. “I heard you talking to Luke. I know everything. You said you didn’t know what to do about me! That I was weak—just some fragile human! And he told you you could survive without me by eating my heart. And you didn’t say anything, Stetson. You didn’t say no.”
The words hit him like bullets. He froze.
“Zarlia—”
“No!” she cut him off. “You didn’t deny it. You just stood there. You let him talk about me like I was some kind of... of prey.” Her voice broke.
She had desperately wanted him to deny it, to yell at Luke and say he’d never hurt her, instead he kept shut. Typical Stetson, trying to escape what he couldn’t control.
“I would never hurt you,” he said again, stepping closer, his voice rough, strained with desperation.
“Then why didn’t you stop him?” she whispered. “Why didn’t you tell him he was wrong?”
He didn’t have an answer—like always.
She laughed shakily, tears falling now despite her stubbornness. “You don’t even trust me enough to tell me about your past, your family, your sister—nothing. You just keep pushing me away. I’m not your property, Stetson. I’m not some Luna doll you can order around. I’m a person. I get to choose.”
His eyes darkened. “You don’t get to choose who your mate is, Zarlia. You belong to me.”
She flinched when his voice deepened, when Asher’s growl rumbled underneath it. The wolf within him was angry—possessive. She could feel it in the air, thick and heavy like a storm.
Her breath caught. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she said, folding her arms tightly around herself. “Not even you.”
That’s when he caught it—the faintest whiff of another scent clinging to her skin. A man’s scent. His chest tightened. His nostrils flared.
And then he saw it. Her lipstick was smudged.
Something snapped. His pulse roared in his ears, Asher’s voice echoing in his mind, snarling for control. His hand shot out, gripping the edge of the bed. “Who was he?” he asked, his tone flat, but his eyes blazed like fire.
Zarlia blinked. “What?”
“The scent,” he said through clenched teeth. “The man from the club. The one I hit. Who was he?”
She didn’t answer.
He stepped closer, the air between them electric with tension. “Did you kiss him?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, his wolf nearly breaking through his control. “Who touched you, Zarlia?” he whispered, each word deliberate, trembling with barely-contained rage. “Tell me.”
Zarlia’s throat tightened. Tears blurred her vision. But even now, even as his aura filled the room and Asher’s growl rumbled deep within him, she refused to back down.
“Why do you care?” she whispered. “You were going to hurt me anyway.”
That broke something in him. He took a slow step forward, every muscle in his body tense, fighting against his own wolf. He wanted to shake her, kiss her, scream at her, protect her—all at once.
“You think I’d ever let anyone hurt you?” he growled, his voice dark and broken. “You think I’d hurt you?”
She looked up at him, trembling but defiant. “You already did.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
The storm inside him was tearing him apart—rage, guilt, possessiveness, heartbreak—an impossible mix of everything he couldn’t say.
Asher’s voice whispered in his mind, “She’s ours. Don’t let her go.”
But Stetson didn’t know how to keep her anymore without breaking her.
And she stood there, chest heaving, eyes wet and wild, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she whispered again, voice trembling, “Who’s going to save me from you, Stetson?”
His hand twitched at his side. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close, to promise her he’d never be the monster she thought he was. But he couldn’t speak.
He just stared at her—the woman who drove him mad, the woman who made him feel human again—and whispered the only words that came to him, his voice low and dangerous.
“Fine.” Something about how he said it sent a shiver down her spine as cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck. It was times like this that made her desperately want to know what is on his mind.
One thing Stetson learnt from his father was that if you can’t control something—strip it of everything.
He rolled up his sleeves and turned his back to her but stopped mid-step. “I have matters to attend to, I’ll pick you up tomorrow by 7pm for the gala- “
“The gala? I never agreed to go with- “he ignored her protest and continued anyway.
“There’s a green dress in the closet. Wear it.” Zarlia frowned, rolling her eyes. “And try not to anger me Zee, I won’t be so lenient”. With that, he left and locked the door.
Zarlia slowly fell on the bed and screamed into her pillow.She’d never felt more frustrated in her entire life