125

Scar

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. The scent of sweat, sex, and betrayal clung to my skin, making my stomach churn.

My limbs felt frozen, my heart pounding so loudly I thought it might shatter.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

I had prepared myself for his cruelty, told myself I wouldn't let him break me again. But nothing could have braced me for this.

For the way he had looked at me, empty of warmth.

For the way he had commanded me to sit on the floor like I was nothing.

For the way he had pushed another woman between his legs, moaning as if I weren't right there, watching.

I should have turned away. I should have walked out the moment I saw them, but I had been frozen, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.

And then, when it was finally over, when I thought he had finished humiliating me, his voice cut through the room like a blade to my chest.

"You can leave."

Just like that.

As if I were no more than a nuisance in his life.

As if I hadn't given him every last piece of me.

As if I hadn't bled for him, fought for him, loved him.

My hands curled into fists as I forced myself to stand. My body trembled, my legs weak, but I wouldn't let them see. Wouldn't let him see.

"Yes."

The word was barely a whisper, but it was all I could give.

I turned without another glance, without another plea. He expected me to break, to beg him to stop, to sob at his feet and cling to the last scraps of my dignity. But I had nothing left to give him.

I walked out of that room, my vision blurred with unshed tears, my chest hollowed out by pain so raw it felt unbearable. But as I stepped into the cold hallway, something inside me shifted.

The pain lingered, a razor-sharp fragment embedded deep within my chest. I fought against it, desperately, relentlessly, but the ache remained undiminished, unyielding.

Why me?

The question echoed in the hollow spaces of my heart, a haunting refrain. I had done nothing wrong. All I had ever wanted was his love, pure and unconditional. Yet love, that treacherous emotion, had become my tormentor.

No matter how I tried to escape, to excise these feelings from my soul, my heart betrayed me. Like a compass always pointing north, it kept returning to him, to Lucas, despite everything.

Exhausted, I slumped against the wall, tears streaming silently. Memories flooded my mind: his whispered promises, the tender moments when he chose me, made me feel like I was his entire world.

Those memories now felt like delicate glass fragments, beautiful but capable of drawing blood.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "What a tragic irony."

My hand clutched my chest, as if I could physically restrain the pain, the love, the rage. I hated this, this lingering, toxic emotion that refused to release its grip.

I hated him. But more devastatingly, I hated myself for continuing to love a monster.

"Are you still here?"

The voice cut through my fog of despair. Blurred vision slowly came into focus, revealing a figure I hadn't noticed approaching. I lifted my gaze, relief washing over me when I realized it wasn't Lucas.

The maid, the one who had slept with Lucas, stood before me, her eyes glinting with a mixture of contempt and triumph. Her smirk spoke volumes about my fallen status.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice a hollow shell of its former strength. "You should go on your way."

She smirked, enjoying my misery.

I wasn't surprised by her presence. Since Lucas's abandonment, I had become nothing more than a spectacle, a cautionary tale whispered throughout the pack.

The same wolves who once clamored to be near me now avoided my gaze, their loyalty as fickle as autumn leaves.

I understood why. They had never truly been my friends, only hangers-on, drawn to my connection with the Alpha.

An orphan without her protector was worth nothing to them.

"I don't believe this," she said, her soft tone dripping with mock sympathy.

Her eyes raked over me, laden with disgust. "If someone had told me I'd see you like this one day, I would have laughed. Look at you now, the unloved, discarded plaything of the Alpha."

"Shut up," I snapped, a spark of my old defiance flickering.

Her laughter was a sharp, cutting sound. "Shut up? How dare you speak to me that way?"

I clenched my teeth, swallowing the retort that burned in my throat. Once, I would have torn her apart for such disrespect. But not now. Not when Lucas could use any confrontation as an excuse to eliminate me completely.

Survival, I had learned, sometimes meant swallowing one's pride.