Chapter 57 Chapter Fifty-six
ARA
As soon as Thayne's father left, I marched straight to Millie and Mollie's rooms.
The second my sisters walked through the door after school, I started packing their bags.
Quickly and Quiet. Like a thief.
I had already dragged my own suitcase out of the closet.
Everything I owned fit into one corner of it was pathetic how little I had brought into Thayne’s life, and how much damage I had caused.
I was the crack in his armor.
Remove me, and maybe his father would run out of excuses.
Nadia was gone. The fake pregnancy was exposed. I didn't even want to think about Nadia at the moment.
I'd imagined I would ask Thayne to take me to see her so I could ask about my father, but now wasn't the time.
Not with Mr. Slade Senior's threat still ringing in my ears.
There was nothing left to fight with except blood, and the old man had just produced an older son.
It was instant game over.
My phone kept buzzing with notifications.
The entire internet was on fire. The hashtags were ridiculous and upsetting.
#SladeSuccession
#BirthrightVsBargain
#ThayneDeservesBetter
On Twitter and Instagram, social media influencers dissected and tore me apart like I was a cadaver.
Then came the video that gutted me.
Some influencer with two million followers, perfect teeth, and perfect venom pointed the camera at herself and sneered, “Thayne Slade was untouchable before that girl showed up. She’s bad luck. Look at him now. He should cut her loose before she drags the whole empire down.”
The clip already had three million views, and I was sure the views would have doubled by now.
I closed the app, knelt on the floor and kept folding tiny sweaters into Millie’s suitcase.
Millie stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her lower lip pushed out.
“Ara, where are we going? You’re scaring me. Are we traveling? Moving away? Say something.” She sounded genuinely concerned, and it hurts me that I was about to take her and Mollie away from the life they were starting to get used to.
“I’ll explain later, sweetheart. Just let me finish.”
Mollie burst in, phone in hand, practically vibrating.
“No need to explain! We’re moving for the wedding!” She shoved the screen in my face so hard it almost hit Millie’s nose.
I froze.
On the screen was a post from Thayne’s verified account, posted twenty-three minutes ago.
It was a black-and-white photo of my left hand wearing the Slade family ring, the one I was currently wearing, his big hand covering mine.
The caption read: New date set. She said yes again. This time forever.
Under it, my own verified account (yes, Sasha had seen to it that my accounts on social media were all verified) had the exact same photo, same caption.
I never posted that.
My blood turned to ice.
It had to be Sasha, under Thayne's instructions.
Mollie was jumping now, squealing. “We get to be flower girls! You and Uncle Thayne are getting married!”
Millie’s pout vanished. She started jumping too. “Do we still have to pack?”
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
He did this while I was planning to disappear.
Did he know I would try to leave?
I left everything I was packing and went I search of him, not minding that I was still in his robe.
I checked everywhere for him, but I didn't see him. But I couldn't give up so easily. There was so much I wanted to tell him.
I decided to look in the game room for him. There he was, sipping whisky from a wine glass cup.
He downed the contents in one gulp, then lifted his hand to smash it against the wall.
“Thayne, stop!” I called out. His hand froze midair and he lifted his head to look at me.
His eyes were red, and his face was cold and carried a detached, deadly expression.
“Don't come close. I'm drunk.” He warned in a ragged voice.
I ignored him and started approaching him, my feet padding on the floor noiselessly.
He watched me from the corner of his eye, then the moment I reached him, he grabbed my waist and spinned me so my back was flush against him and my lower front was pressing against the snooker table.
“You don't listen, Ara. You were trying to pack and leave, weren't you?” He asked in that deep voice of his that was my unraveling.
“Are you going to punish me for wanting to save you from your father's wickedness?” I asked softly, ignoring the delicious way his cock pressed into my ass.
“I don't need saving, Ara. I'm not a lost little lamb. You deserve to be punished for trying to leave. Haven't I told you before? You're mine, in this life and the next. You don't get to decide if we are to be together or not, because we are already together.” He nipped at my earlobes and I pressed back into him.
“You posted that picture without telling me. You should have told me.” I tried to sound pissed, but a moan slipped out right after the last word when Thayne undid the belt of the robe and it parted, his fingers rolling my nipple until it was stiff to the point of pain.
“I tell you almost everyday that nobody can take you away from me. I instructed Sasha to make the post to remind people that I'm still in control. We have a party to attend tonight. My father and Ethan will be there, and so will we.” As he spoke, he punctuated each word with heavy breaths that set my skin on fire.
He slipped his hand between my thighs and thrust three fingers inside me without warning.
I leaned forward on the snooker table to hold my weight.
His fingers curled inside me, thick and brutal, stretching me open without mercy.
I gasped, palms slapping the green felt of the snooker table.
“You think you can run?” he growled against my neck, teeth scraping skin. “You think I’d let you?”
He pumped once, twice, then yanked his hand free.
Before I could breathe, he spun me around and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My ass hit the cold wood.
Balls scattered, clacking across the table as he shoved me flat on my back.
The robe fell open completely. I was naked underneath, thighs already trembling.
Thayne’s eyes were glassy with whisky and pure animal rage. He reached behind him, grabbed a cue off the rack, and rolled it slowly between his palms like he was measuring how much damage it could do.
The thick butt end gleamed under the low lights, polished wood, hard rubber bumper, merciless.
He dragged the leather tip up the inside of my thigh, slow enough that I felt every inch.
My breath hitched when it reached the top.
“Spread wider,” he ordered, voice shredded.
I did.
He pressed the blunt, rounded end against my entrance. Just pressure at first. Cold. Unforgiving.
I whimpered.
“Feel that?” he rasped, leaning over me, his whisky breath hot on my cheek.
“That’s what you get for packing bags like you have somewhere else to be.”
He pushed, just enough for the rubber bumper to breach me.
One thick, stretching inch. My back bowed off the felt.
“Thayne—”
“Shh.” He twisted it, slow, watching my face like he wanted to memorize every gasp. “Look how greedy your little pussy is. Already trying to suck it deeper. You really think you can walk away from me?”
Another shallow push. Two inches now.
The stretch burned so good my eyes watered.
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Imagine if I fucked you with the whole thing. Split you open right here on my table. Leave you dripping and ruined so you never forget who owns this cunt.”
I cried out, hips jerking, but he held the cue steady, letting me feel how easily it could hurt me, how easily it could own me.
Then, suddenly, he snarled and ripped it out.
The cue flew across the room and cracked against the wall.
Before the sound finished echoing he was on me, cock out, thick and angry and leaking.
He slammed inside in one brutal thrust, filling the space the wood had only teased.
I screamed into his shoulder.
He fucked me like the world was ending, hips snapping, table legs screeching across the floor, balls crashing everywhere.
Every thrust drove the breath out of me.
“Mine,” he growled against my throat, teeth sinking in. “This pussy, this body, every fucking heartbeat. Mine.”
He hooked his arms under my knees, spread me wider, pounded deeper.
The ring on my finger flashed with every violent stroke, reminding me he’d already branded me for the whole world to see.
“You don’t leave,” he snarled, voice breaking on the edge of drunk and desperate. “You don’t even fucking think it. You stay and you take this cock like the greedy little lamb you are.”
I came with his name tearing out of my throat, clenching around him so hard he cursed and followed me over, spilling deep, marking me inside the same way he’d marked me outside.
He stayed buried, chest heaving, forehead pressed to mine.
His voice came out raw, almost broken.
“Don’t ever pack again, Arayna. Next time I won’t stop at the cue.”