Chapter 30 30
Clenching his jaw tight, he gently lowered her fragile, almost weightless body onto the couch.
He stepped back, staring at her unconscious form.
One second longer
And he would’ve killed her.
His mate.
Fuck.
Damn it.
He was losing control around her. She affected him like a drug, sinking into his blood, clouding his senses. She was human, he had to remind himself of that every damn time. She wouldn’t survive his brutal world, his ruthless ways.
Where he wouldn’t hesitate to end a life, she wouldn’t hesitate to save one.
She was softness where he was cruelty.
Heart where he was darkness.
And that contrast drew him to her like wildfire.
He’d gone too far this time.
She could’ve died.
The thought alone twisted something painful inside his chest inside his stone-cold heart.
His gaze dropped to the faint purplish marks blooming on her neck where his fingers had crushed her skin.
With a frustrated growl, he dragged his hands through his hair.
She was fragile.
And he was a fucking beast.
Slowly, almost reverently, he brushed his thumb along her cheek.
He had hurt her.
And somehow, deep down, it hurt him too.
Hardening his expression, he turned and strode out toward the classroom where her first period was being held.
He burst inside without warning.
A few familiar students froze.
“You. You. And you stand up,” he said calmly, though his voice was sharp with cold authority.
The three students rose slowly, trembling like frightened pups. Even the teacher stepped aside, intimidated by his presence.
“Out. Now,” he barked.
They rushed into the hallway, forming a shaky line.
Fernando lifted the crumpled note and held it out in front of them.
Some stared at it in shock.
One face drained completely of color.
Fernando caught it instantly.
Miguel.
“This was given to one of my students,” he said quietly, though his tone carried a deadly promise. “If any of you know who wrote it, speak now. Or confess.”
No one dared lift their head.
With a slight nod, he dismissed them back into class.
Miguel would’ve been found dead in the parking lot tomorrow if Fernando followed his instincts.
Or maybe sliced apart slowly.
Thrown from the roof sounded tempting too.
But no.
That bastard deserved torture.
Real torture.
Returning to his office, he lifted Sofía carefully into his arms and exited through the back of the building. Luckily, all the students were in class. Only the janitor saw him carrying her limp body.
He told the man she needed to be taken to the hospital as a precaution.
Placing her gently in the backseat, he drove away heading toward his temporary residence.
A simple two-story house.
Nothing special.
After parking, he carried her inside, struggling slightly to unlock the door with one hand but managing. The door shut behind him as he climbed the stairs to the room he was using.
He laid her on the bed.
She looked impossibly small against the king-sized mattress.
Stepping away, he sank into the rocking chair in the corner, unable to take his eyes off her.
The shirt she wore clung to her curves.
Her chest rose and fell steadily with each breath.
Her flat stomach, the gentle swell of her hips visible as she lay on her side.
She was breathtaking.
The urge to claim her, to mark her as his burned stronger than ever.
Sofía stirred.
Her hand lifted to her neck instinctively, brows knitting in pain.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open.
She blinked once.
Twice.
Confusion crossed her face when she didn’t recognize the ceiling.
“You’re awake?” a cold voice said from the shadows.
She shrieked in terror, scrambling backward on the bed.
Wide blue eyes stared at him, barely able to see his form hidden in the dim light.
Her gaze darted around the room.
Then she bolted toward the nearest door
Only to stumble into the bathroom.
Cursing softly, she spun to lock it
But a large tattooed hand slammed against the door, stopping it.
“Ana,” he said softly.
But panic swallowed her whole.
Last time, his hands were crushing her throat.
Last time, she thought she was dying.
“No, please!” she cried, stumbling back as he pushed inside.
“Listen to me,” he said in a low, gentle rumble.
But she was far beyond listening.
He was going to hurt her.
He was going to kill her.
“Please d-don’t hurt me,” she sobbed. “I—I don’t want to die.”
She kept backing up until her body hit the vanity.
Her breath hitched.
Tears filled her eyes big, trembling tears of fear.
That terror in her beautiful gaze unsettled him deeply.
He lifted his hand slowly to touch her face
She flinched violently.
He froze.
She thought he was going to strike her.
He was many things.
But he would never hit a woman.
Still…
He had hurt her.
Fuck.
Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his strong muscular arms around her in a tight embrace.
She screamed.
She thrashed.
Tiny fists beat uselessly against him.
When it did nothing, her body finally went stiff then limp.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, forcing the words out, words he’d never spoken in his life.
Her body sagged.
Her arms slowly wrapped around his torso as a broken wail tore from her throat raw with pain, fear, and sadness.
The sound tugged violently at his hardened heart.
His body stiffened at her touch.
What was this feeling?