Chapter 8 Plan To Stay
Sienna
The sound of the cuffs locking around my wrists made my stomach do a sick flip. Panic flooded my chest. I’d spent years daydreaming about Sev finally touching me, wanting to feel his warmth, but this was a nightmare. This wasn't the man I loved; this was a monster I didn't recognize.
He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. Then, in one swift, brutal move, he gripped the top of my dress and ripped it. I shrieked, the sound of the fabric tearing echoing off the walls. The cool air hitting my bare skin made me feel so small, so exposed.
He didn't say a word. He just walked over to the wall where the whips were displayed like trophies. He picked one out, a black silicone one, and started walking back. Every step he took toward the bed felt like it was crushing the air out of my lungs. He leaned down, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the tip of the whip slowly, agonizingly, trace my collarbone, dragging its way down toward the lace of my bra.
That was it. I broke. The tears finally spilled over, hot and fast. I was sobbing so hard that everything—the room, the whips, the man standing over me—just became a blurry, terrifying mess.
“No… please. I don’t want this. Sev, I’m sorry. Please… I’m so sorry,” I choked out, my voice sounding like a broken child's.
The room went dead silent. For what felt like an hour, the only sound was my pathetic, ragged sobbing. I waited for the strike, for the pain, but it never came.
“Fuck,” he hissed, the word dripping with a mix of anger and something that sounded like disgust—maybe with me, maybe with himself.
Suddenly, the weight on my wrists vanished. I heard the cuffs hit the headboard with a heavy thud. I opened my tear-blurred eyes and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his forehead buried in his palm. He looked completely drained, like the fire in him had just burned out.
“Get out, Sienna. Just go.”
I didn't wait for a second invitation. I scrambled off the bed, clutching the shredded remains of my dress against my chest. I bolted for the door, fumbled with the lock, and didn't stop running until I was inside my room.
That night, I collapsed onto my own bed and just cried my heart out.
I wanted to see him. That was always the first thought I had every single morning before. It was like a reflex, a habit I’d had for years.
But this morning? I was terrified of even catching a glimpse of his shadow.
I wasn’t an idiot. I saw the look in his eyes last night. He wasn't himself—or maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was exactly who he was, and I just couldn't wrap my head around it.
I scrambled out of bed, my mind racing. I had to get out. I’d go back home, back to my old life. Heck, I’d even let Dante force me into those boring four-year courses in our pack if it meant being away from here.
Then I remembered the look on my brother's face when he asked, "More like Sebastian?" At the time, I didn't get it, but now? It made perfect sense.
He knew. Dante knew exactly what Sebastian was like, and he didn't say a single word. He actually had the audacity to send me off here, in this den, knowing full well what Sebastian does behind closed doors.
Once I had my bags packed, I slammed the call button. I expected some quiet maid, but of course, Jordan was the one who walked in. He didn't even need me to speak; he just took one look at my accusing face and doubled down.
“Don’t look at me like I’m the villain here, Miss. Your own curiosity is what dragged you into this,” he said, totally unfazed. “If you’d just stayed in the dark, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Since you’re clearly in on it, and Keisha knows too, I bet everyone in this house is part of the fan club.”
“Hardly. Only the Alpha, the Beta, myself, and the women summoned by the Alpha are aware.”
“Women? As in, plural?” My stomach did a sick little flip. “So there’s a whole rotating cast? Does this happen every single night?!”
Seriously, screw him. He was a bigger player than my brothers, and that was a high bar to clear.
“Not every night. No. There is a six-day interval. Everything happens on the seventh.”
I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “A schedule? He has a freaking rotation? Don’t lie to me, Jordan—I heard thumping just two nights ago.”
“That was a one-time thing,” Jordan replied, his voice annoyingly level. “A punishment for her being rude to you.”
“Oh, wow. So what, I’m supposed to send Sev a thank-you card now?”
He went quiet for a beat, watching me. “You’re not actually angry at the Alpha, are you, Miss?”
That question hit me like a physical punch. I opened my mouth to keep ranting, but nothing came out. My heart just… sank. Because, honestly? In spite of the terror and the ripped dress and the absolute shock of last night, I wasn't mad at Sev. Not really.
He could touch me however he wanted—but it had to be him, not some persona. He could use every toy in that room for all I cared, but it had to be with my consent, not as some power trip to scare me off.
I was just terrified that if this monster was the real him, then the guy I’d been in love with for years was just a ghost. I was confused, scared, and totally heartbroken that I didn't know him at all. But even after all that? I still loved him. God, women are so stupid when it comes to love. You can’t even judge until you’re the one standing there with your heart in pieces.
“Are you still planning on leaving, Miss?” Jordan asked, looking at me like he could read my mind.
“You already know the answer,” I said, dropping onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Where is he?”
“The Alpha is in his study, meeting with the Beta.”
I stood back up, and this time, I wasn't shaking. I felt a weird, cold resolve settle over me. “Take me there.”
If I was going to kill this doubt eating me alive, I had to face the monster head-on.
Waiting outside that heavy oak door, my confidence started to tank. My nerves were surging, and I kept rehearsing my lines like I was prepping for a court case. Step one: Apologize for being a nosy brat. Step two: Demand he says sorry for almost scaring the life out of me. Simple, right?