Don't See My Wounds

Sam’s POV

I could barely breathe as I stepped back from that doorway. The image of Diana tangled in someone else’s arms was burned into my mind, every detail sharp and mocking. My chest felt like it was caving in, the mate bond wrapping around my ribs and squeezing. It hurt. Gods, it hurt more than I ever thought it could. I’d been hit, stabbed, thrown from cliffs in training fights, but this was different. This was like something ripping me apart from the inside.

Alex’s voice came from somewhere to my left. “Sam—”

I didn’t let him finish. I shook my head hard and kept walking, pushing past him. I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want pity. My pride was already in shreds and if he put a hand on me right now I might break completely.

I made it three steps before another presence filled my path.

Lucifer.

Of course he didn’t move. He just stood there like a damn wall, that unreadable look on his face. I tried to sidestep him but his hand shot out, catching my arm. His grip was strong, almost too strong for a casual hold, and when he spoke his voice was low but cutting.

“I knew you were a lot of things,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, “but I never thought you were a pushover.”

I froze, anger spiking hot and fast. My ears rang with the sound of my own blood rushing. He’d seen everything. He knew exactly what Diana had just done to me. And instead of walking away, he decided to add his own twist of the knife.

“You think I’m a pushover?” I said, my voice shaking but not from fear.

“I think you let her humiliate you and you walked away,” he said, almost too calmly. “That’s not the Sam I know. The one I know runs his mouth, fights back—”

Something in me snapped.

Before I even thought about it, my fist connected with his jaw. The impact jolted up my arm, the sound of the hit sharp in the quiet hallway. Lucifer’s head jerked to the side, his lip splitting. His eyes flared—not with surprise, but with something darker, something I couldn’t name.

Alex was there in an instant, shoving himself between us. “Stop it. Both of you.”

Lucifer didn’t lunge, didn’t even lift his hands, just looked at me with that strange fire in his gaze. It made no sense. He wasn’t the one who’d been betrayed. Why the hell did he look… angry on my behalf?

Alex pushed me back, muttering, “We’re leaving.”

I let him steer me outside into the cool night air. The sky was dark, the hum of the party muffled through the lodge walls. My breathing was still ragged, my wolf pacing inside me, weak and restless from the blow to our bond.

Alex stopped walking and turned to face me.

“We shouldn’t go back in there,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent.

“Screw the party. Screw the politics. Let them choke on their own drinks.”

I shook my head. “I can’t just leave.”

“You can,” Alex said firmly. “She doesn’t deserve you. That bond doesn’t mean you have to stand there and let her spit in your face. Break it. Walk away.”

“You think it’s that easy?” My voice cracked, raw. “You think you can just cut it and be fine? Every step I take away from her feels like my chest is tearing in half. And if my father finds out I ran—”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Your father doesn’t deserve to have this kind of hold over you.”

“He’s my father,” I said, the words tasting bitter. “And all my life I’ve been the one who couldn’t measure up. The one who wasn’t strong enough. The one everyone called second best. If I walk away now, I’ll prove them right.”

Alex’s expression softened. He understood. We’d been friends long enough that I didn’t have to explain the rest—that I’d rather bleed out from the bond than give my father another reason to look at me like I was nothing.

He sighed. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Let’s go back.”

Reluctantly, he nodded and we walked toward the hall again. My hands were still shaking, not sure if it was from the pain in my chest or from the fact that I’d actually punched Lucifer.

We stepped inside and the noise hit immediately—only it wasn’t the polite laughter and music from before. It was louder, chaotic. People were murmuring to one another, glancing toward the front of the hall where a crowd was gathering.

And then I saw her.

Diana.

Dressed perfectly, hair flawless, smiling like she was the happiest bride in the world. She was laughing with a guest, her hand on his arm like nothing had happened. Not an ounce of shame on her face.

My stomach turned.

Then my gaze shifted to my father. His face was red—not from drink, but from anger. His jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch from across the room. Whatever was happening, it was bad enough to make him look like he was about to explode.

I scanned the crowd and found Lucifer leaning against a pillar, watching me. For the first time in my life, I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t mockery. It was… concern. Real or not, I didn’t know. But the sight of the split in his lip where my fist had landed sent a strange ripple through me.

I barely had time to wonder about it because then I saw him.

The Lycan Prince from the North.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with an expression that made the air in the room feel heavier. I’d heard stories about him since I was a kid—stories of battles, of brutal strength, of a hunger for power that rivaled even the oldest Lycans.

What the hell was he doing here?

The room fell quieter as he turned toward Diana’s father. His voice carried easily over the space.

“As I said earlier,” the Prince repeated, “I wish to take your daughter as my queen when I ascend the throne.”

The words slammed into me like a physical blow. My ears rang. My heart hammered painfully against my ribs.

He was proposing. To Diana. My mate. My bride-to-be.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All I could do was stare at the man who could crush me with one hand, asking—no—announcing that he was going to take her from me like she was a prize to be won.

And she was smiling.