Chapter 7

Eleanor’s words hit like cold water being poured over Zephyr’s head. She sneered at him—and at me—her gaze filled with disgust.

I tightened my grip on the chair.

I had expected this.

From the Lloyd family.

From the Silver Claw Pack.

But that didn’t mean I could accept being painted as some wicked woman.

“We’re not ruining anyone’s life,” I said, forcing my voice steady despite the weight in my chest. “If you want to throw dirt at someone, throw it at my husband.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened, a low growl escaping her throat. If she didn’t hold herself back, she might have lunged at me.

“What did you—”

I cut her off.

“My former mate, Rowan, abused me. Mentally. Physically.” I inhaled deeply. “You may not see the wounds anymore… but I have proof.”

The room fell silent.

Completely.

The kind of silence where even a pin dropping would echo.

This wasn’t something to joke about.

Since adapting to modern life, the supernatural organization—the Nocturnal Ordeal—had become strict about domestic violence.

Many cases still went unnoticed.

But many victims had come forward too.

They were given two choices—keep the mark, or have the bond forcibly broken.

But breaking a bond…

It was agony.

Like every bone in your body shattering at once.

Some didn’t survive it whole.

That was why most chose to keep the mark—and simply restrain their abuser.

But not me.

I didn’t want the mark.

And I didn’t want to be broken either.

“Can you show us the evidence?” Mona asked, breaking the silence.

I closed my eyes briefly.

“I can.”

I took out a USB from my purse and handed it to Zephyr. “Everything is in here. Show them.”

He passed it to Theodore.

Moments later—

The screen lit up.

The first image appeared.

My back.

Covered in wounds.

Lacerations.

Blood.

Bruises.

A collective grimace spread across the room.

No one spoke.

No one could.

On the other side, I felt it—

Zephyr’s anger.

Heavy.

Dark.

Like he was barely holding himself back from killing someone.

“This… was my life,” I said, letting out a hollow laugh. “For five years, I endured everything he did to me.”

The image changed.

My face.

Broken.

Swollen.

Bruised beyond recognition.

My legs almost gave out.

That day—

All I wanted was to attend my best friend’s wedding.

And for that…

He nearly destroyed my face.

The pain lasted for days.

But the memory?

It stayed.

The images kept changing.

Each one worse than the last.

My stomach twisted.

I felt like I might throw up.

“I also recorded our fights,” I said weakly.

The screen went black.

Then—

A loud crash echoed through the speakers.

“Look what you did!” Rowan’s voice filled the room. “You made me break my favorite glass! How many times have I told you not to make my coffee too hot?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m really… really sorry!” My own voice played back—shaking, terrified. “It’s my fault… I’m sorry…”

I couldn’t breathe.

Hearing it again—

My own voice.

Crying.

Begging.

It made my stomach churn.

I pressed my hands against the table, forcing myself to speak. “I… I also have more—”

“That’s enough.”

Zephyr’s hand closed around mine.

His voice softened.

“The evidence is enough.”

I froze.

That tone—

Gentle.

Careful.

Without thinking, I held onto his hand tighter, like I needed something to anchor me.

“There’s nothing more to explain,” Zephyr said, looking around the room. “I claimed Samantha as my mate to protect her from her abuser—who happens to be my nephew.”

There was disgust in his voice.

Cold.

Final.

He had always protected his family.

But Rowan—

Rowan crossed a line that couldn’t be forgiven.

The moment Zephyr learned the truth…

He had already decided to cut Rowan off.

“But why didn’t you leave sooner?” Eleanor asked.

Her tone wasn’t as sharp as before.

But her words still stung.

“Five years… there must have been chances to escape. To fight back.”

I met her gaze.

“What about you?” I asked quietly. “Did you ever run away?”

Her expression shifted—shock, disbelief.

I had struck something deep.

I didn’t know everything about their family.

But I knew enough.

Rowan’s mother hated her own father.

Avoided the topic completely.

That told me all I needed to know.

“You’re right,” I continued. “There were chances. I could have run. I could have fought.”

My fingers tightened slightly.

“But I didn’t.”

“Because I was a fool.”

“And a coward.”

I believed he would change.

I believed the man I fell in love with was real.

But he wasn’t.

He never was.

It was all an act.

A mask.

He played the perfect man just long enough to trap me.

And once I was his—

He showed his true self.

Even then…

I stayed.

Because after every beating—

He apologized.

Gave me gifts.

Flowers.

Took me out to expensive dinners.

And for a moment…

I believed things were better.

But it was just a cycle.

Over.

And over again.

I wanted to leave.

But I was afraid.

Afraid of what he’d do if I tried.

Afraid of what would happen if I fought back.

Every day, I felt weaker.

More trapped.

Until one night…

I found an old, worn piece of paper under my bed.

A number.

Faded ink.

But I remembered it.

Zephyr’s number.

That night, I asked myself—

What if I had chosen differently?

What if I hadn’t asked him to reject me?

I didn’t know the answer.

But something inside me told me to call him.

And it turned out—

To be the best decision I ever made.

I lifted my chin, my voice steady despite everything.

“I was a fool,” I said. “But I never gave up.”

I looked around the room.

“And now that I’ve finally stood up for myself…”

“I won’t stop fighting.”