Chapter 32

Lucy

The pain didn’t come all at once.

First, it was pressure—like someone had slammed a red-hot coin into my neck and pressed down with all their weight. Then came the burn. Heavy, invasive, smoldering from the inside out.

I gasped, my knees buckling as Ethan's canines pierced my skin, as if he'd driven a white-hot needle straight through the center of me. My vision pulsed. The sound of my own heartbeat throbbed in my ears.

But the pain wasn’t what knocked the air out of my lungs.

It was the rage.

It flooded me so fast, so violently, it nearly eclipsed the panic clawing its way up my throat. A raw, acidic fury that I didn’t even recognize as mine. It poured into me like poison.

My hands trembled as I realized what had happened.

He marked me.

I could feel him now. Not just his touch, or the disgusting wetness of his tongue as he licked the fresh mark like he hadn’t just ripped through my body like a rabid dog. No—deeper. Like his presence had buried itself under my skin.

I could feel his mood, like storm clouds gathering on a distant hill. Smug. Amused. Something almost... satisfied.

And worse—I could hear his thoughts brushing against mine.

There. Now everyone knows you’re mine.

I choked on a sob. My fists balled on their own.

"You bastard," I whispered. "You sick, twisted bastard."

He pulled back with a small, satisfied sigh, licking the mark with a gentleness that made my stomach turn. The contradiction was unbearable—violence and tenderness, like he thought this was some kind of romantic conquest.

I snapped.

My fists slammed against his chest, again and again, and I screamed at him. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to touch me! I hate you—I HATE YOU!”

Tears spilled freely, hot and blinding, as my fists pounded against him. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stop me.

He laughed.

“Hit me harder, baby,” he said between chuckles, catching my wrists lazily as if I were nothing more than an angry child. “Go on. Get it out.”

“You’re disgusting!” I sobbed, thrashing. “I curse the very day you were made—”

I couldn’t even finish. The shame burned hotter than the mark itself.

He tilted his head, still grinning. “You’re so beautiful when you cry.”

I recoiled.

I couldn't look at him. Couldn’t breathe the same air as him. I wrenched my arms from his grasp, tearing myself away, stumbling like a wounded animal toward the door.

My legs barely worked. My mind was a tangle of fire and confusion and him. I pushed out into the hallway, my breath coming in jagged gasps, tears still streaking down my cheeks.

I needed to get away.

Now.

I didn’t see the figure until I collided into him chest-first.

Strong arms caught me instinctively, grounding me for half a second.

I looked up.

Derek.

His eyes locked on mine—and I knew he saw everything in that one glance.

My trembling hands clutched my neck by reflex, the place where the mark burned like it had been branded in.

He looked down, gently pulling my hand away. I didn’t fight him, too stunned to think.

His gaze darkened the moment he saw it. The fresh wound. The claim.

His jaw tensed, muscles flexing under his skin like he was holding back a scream.

I yanked my hand from his grasp like it burned. “Wanna add yours too?” I snapped, the words tasting like acid.

His eyes widened.

But I didn’t wait for him to speak.

I stormed past him, my shoulders stiff, my nails digging into my palms as if that would hold me together. I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to move, to breathe, to outrun whatever the hell had just happened to me.

The mark pulsed with heat.

His thoughts flickered in the back of my mind—dull, quiet now, like embers dying out. Still there.

Still connected.

I wanted to scream.

And then I saw Elizabeth—standing near the far end of the corridor, laughing softly with one of the other maids.

I didn’t think.

I ran.

I slammed her door open and practically dove into the room, shutting it hard behind me.

The second the lock clicked into place, I collapsed onto the floor, my back against the door, and the panic finally caught up to me.

My breathing came in shallow gasps, my chest heaving as the room tilted and spun. I clutched at my chest, my neck, trying to hold everything in—but I was falling apart.

My throat closed. My vision blurred again. Tears poured down, unstoppable, and I tried to muffle my sobs into my hands, but it was useless.

The door jostled behind me.

“Ny lady?” Elizabeth’s voice.

I wiped my face quickly, pushed myself to my feet, and stepped back just as she entered.

The look on her face when she saw me—eyes wide, expression crumbling with concern—made me feel even smaller.

“Lucy?” she said again, voice full of worry. “What happened?”

I turned away, pretending to search for something on her desk. “I’m fine. I just—got a call. From my mom’s caretaker.” I lied.

Her face softened instantly. “Oh my Goodness. Is she okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s... it just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

I didn’t dare let her see my neck. My hand stayed clamped over it like a lifeline.

Elizabeth walked over and rubbed my back gently. “You scared me,” she whispered. “You’re shaking. Do you want some tea?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

She didn’t press. Just nodded and started talking about how my mom’s been strong for so long, how she was probably just having a rough day. She meant well. She always did.

I nodded along, letting her words wash over me, not really hearing any of it. Not really here.

Later that night, the world felt quieter.

I stood in Elizabeth’s shower, the spray beating down on my skin, hot enough to scald. My fingers traced the mark lightly, and I winced.

It still burned.

Not just from the wound—but from him.

Ethan’s voice still echoed faintly in my head sometimes, drifting in and out when my guard dropped.

I pressed my hand to the tile wall and let the water run over me.

He’s not my mate. So why did it still hurt this much?

Maybe it was because it was a taboo to get marked by someone who's not your mate. Maybe that was why the mark had felt so violent, so wrong. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t chosen it. He’d forced it on me like a brand.

And now…

What the hell was I going to tell the Alpha?

Would he be able to smell it on me? Would he know?

I didn’t have answers.

All I had was this burning mark and the lingering sting of betrayal crawling across my skin.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself tightly. The mirror was fogged up, but I didn’t dare wipe it. I didn’t want to see myself. Not with his claim on me.

Just as I reached for my change of clothes, the bathroom door slammed open.

“Lucy—!”

I spun around in alarm.

Elizabeth froze in the doorway.

Her eyes dropped instantly to my neck, to the angry red wound pulsing just beneath my collarbone.

She gasped, stepping back like she'd seen a ghost.

“Who...” she whispered, horror dawning in her voice. “Who did that to you?”