Chapter Five: Carol's POV
One of them leaned against the streetlight smoking. He had a well-proportioned build, brown hair wet from rain, sticking to his forehead.
When I passed by him, he moved. Impossibly fast.
One hand covered my mouth, the other arm locked around my waist, dragging me into the alley beside the bar.
I tried to struggle, tried to use the counter-techniques Marcus had taught me, but when my eyes met those deep blue eyes, all the strength drained from my body.
There was something in those eyes—some power beyond human understanding—that stripped away my will, leaving me limp and powerless like prey.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered in my ear, voice carrying a strange hypnotic magic. "You're special."
"Your scent," he murmured, his nose traveling along my neck. "Intoxicating. I've never felt this way before. I can't control myself."
The smell emanating from him—mixed with rain, alcohol, and something deeper—flooded my nostrils, making my brain fuzzy.
I wanted to scream, but couldn't make a sound. I wanted to resist, but my limbs no longer belonged to me.
Rain pounded down on us both, cold and cruel.
His hand came up to hold my face, stroking my cheek. My breathing became rapid.
"I should—I need—" The protest stuck in my throat, unable to come out.
He leaned closer, lips brushing my earlobe.
"What you need," he whispered, "is to stop fighting. Your body already knows what it wants. Your mind hasn't caught up yet."
He was right. That terrified me more than anything.
Before his lips pressed down, my last conscious thought was: Simon will kill him for this.
If Simon finds out, he'll tear this man apart with his bare hands.
But then his tongue swept across my lips, and I couldn't think anymore.
What happened next, I don't remember clearly.
Only pain, humiliation, and the feeling of being utterly violated. These feelings mixed together like a nightmare, unreal.
I only remember rain and tears flowing down my face together, the rough brick wall scraping my skin, and his low groan as he entered my body.
Then darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on a soft hotel bed.
I wasn't wearing any clothes, but I was clean.
But the tearing pain below told me what had just happened.
Outside the window, night had been torn open by dawn's sunlight. I shivered, not knowing how I got dressed and left the room.
Outside it was still raining...
I just wanted to go home. Just wanted to hide in my room and pretend none of this happened.
When I pushed open the heavy manor door, the rain had stopped.
My clothes clung to my skin. With every step, my legs trembled. The physical pain kept reminding me that everything that had just happened was real.
The door opened for me. I prayed I could slip upstairs before anyone saw me, wash away every trace of this nightmare.
Something had changed.
Then I smelled that scent—cedar and post-rain forest, mixed with the powerful scent that belonged only to an Alpha. My heart sank.
This meant he had flown back early from the East Coast.
This meant I was in trouble.
"Carol."
Hearing that long-missed voice, I froze in place. Then I slowly turned, water droplets still falling from my hair.
Simon stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, arms crossed over his chest, golden eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me hold my breath.
He wore dark suit pants and a pristine white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie discarded somewhere, hair slightly disheveled—all signs that he'd been home for a while.
He was supposed to stay on the East Coast another week, negotiating some agreement with the Carter family.
Him coming back early could only mean one thing: someone had told him I didn't come home last night.
"Where were you?" His voice was calm, but I could feel the suppressed anger beneath. "All night."
Behind him, Leon stood in the hallway shadows, expression carefully neutral in a way that meant he'd already reported everything to Simon and was now just waiting to see how this would unfold.
I forced out words. "I got caught in the rain. Lost track of time."
I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't bear to see his disappointment—when he discovered I was too weak to even protect myself.
Simon's nostrils flared slightly. His gaze swept over my disheveled appearance, sharp and penetrating, making me feel completely exposed.
When his eyes finally met mine again.
"Lost track of time," he repeated, tone flat. "All night. No call. No answering your phone."
He took a step toward me. I suppressed the instinct to back away.
The anger barely contained within him was almost palpable. I could feel it clearly.
I opened my mouth but didn't know what to say.
I couldn't tell him what happened last night, couldn't let him know I was—
"Do you know what could happen to you out there? Someone like you, in this city without protection, alone—what dangers you might encounter?"
I could hear the bitter irony in his words.
He was lecturing me about danger, while my body still ached from that violation—I couldn't speak that man's name.
Anger flared in my chest—hot and fierce, driving away the fear and shame that had kept me silent.
"Someone like me?" I heard myself say, voice sharper than I intended. "You mean human? Weak? I had three years of training that was supposed to make me independent, yet I still can't take care of myself?"
His expression didn't change.
"That training was to help you survive, not to make you reckless. I gave you rules for a reason, Carol. Curfews. Check-ins. Basic safety protocols. Apparently, tonight those meant nothing to you."
"I'm twenty years old, Simon."
I called him by his name directly, yet Simon's expression showed no change.
I didn't realize I had so much anger toward him.
"I've followed every rule you set, completed every training session, met every expectation you had of me. My entire adult life has been under your surveillance, your control, your constant monitoring. When does this end? When do I get to make my own choices, live my own life?"
"When you prove yourself worthy of that freedom."
His voice turned cold.
That warmth—the kind I occasionally saw when he thought I wasn't paying attention—vanished completely.
"Based on tonight's performance, you clearly cannot."
This injustice left me powerless to resist. He didn't know—couldn't know—that my absence wasn't due to rebellion, but violation.
That night I wasn't at parties or sneaking around, but being violated by a stranger.
I could barely remember his face, only the power he exerted over me, power that made my consciousness blur.
But I couldn't tell him. I couldn't add his pity to my shame.
The shame was already crushing me.
"Leon." Simon's eyes never left me as he commanded. "Escort Carol to her room. She's not to leave until I say otherwise."
Simon's two guards emerged from the shadows—Marcus and Jack, my own trainers. Expressionless, they took positions on either side of me.
This betrayal hurt more than Simon's anger. The people who'd spent years teaching me to fight were now ordered to imprison me.
"No." The word escaped before I could stop it.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"I'm not a child you can just lock away when inconvenient. I've never asked you for anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. Now you want to take away what little freedom I have because of one night?"
I didn't think. I moved.
Marcus reached for my arm. Despite the order, his touch was gentle, probably just intending to simply guide me toward the stairs.
But three years of training had taught me how to counter that move.
I twisted sharply, using the technique he'd drilled into me countless times to break his grip. Then I drove my elbow into his abdomen, making him stagger back.
Jack moved faster, his Delta-level reflexes quick enough to anticipate my counter, but I'd trained with him too—knew his habits, his patterns, the slight shift in his weight before he committed to a full tackle.
I ducked under his outstretched arm, swept his legs with one foot.
Marcus had praised that very sweep as "perfect" just last week.
Jack hit the floor hard. For a moment, everyone in the room froze.
I stood between them, fists still raised. My heart pounding fast, I could hear it in my ears.
Then Simon's voice broke the silence, with a tone I'd never heard before. "My sweetheart, when did your skills become so good?"
I looked up. He was walking toward me, steps slow and controlled.
"Your moves have improved significantly. Marcus and Jack have clearly done excellent work." He spoke again, his voice softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying than his earlier anger.
He stopped in front of me, tall figure looming over me.
I could smell that familiar scent on him—dangerous.
"But you shouldn't use those skills on them, on anyone in this family who's sworn to protect you. Shouldn't defy my orders."