Am I The Problem

CHAPTER 2

Lyra’s POV

I had only been married to Killian Maddox for two days, and I already wished he was dead.

Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Dead.

He wasn’t just incompetent. He was a spoiled, entitled waste of space who couldn’t lead a pack of stray dogs to a meat truck, let alone run a billion‑dollar MC empire. Every fucking time his name crossed my mind, it filled me with anger.

On our wedding night, he had passed out from alcohol before he could even try to touch me. Thank goodness because if he had tried, I swear I might have been tempted to cut his dick off right there and then.

I hadn’t seen him since that night. He stumbled out of our room at dawn, mumbling something about “club business,” and disappeared. Part of me wondered if he had ended up in a ditch somewhere. Part of me secretly hoped he had.

Over the past two days, I had been carefully mapping out this place. His house wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress. Endless hallways decorated with expensive leather furniture, dark wood, and original artwork that probably cost more than everything my father owned combined. Security cameras stared at me from the corners like cold, unblinking eyes.

And beyond the house? The compound stretched like a private city. Multiple buildings, garages big enough to hold armies of bikes, and a business complex attached to the main clubhouse. This wasn’t a biker gang anymore. It was a corporation wrapped in leather and violence. My father hadn’t prepared me for how big and dangerous this operation really was.

I was moving through another wing of the compound, counting exits and blind spots, when I heard muffled noises coming from a cracked‑open door down the hallway. The sounds were low and wet, with moans and high-pitched giggles that made my skin crawl.

My first instinct was to keep walking. Whatever these animals did behind closed doors wasn’t my business. But then a voice interrupted my thoughts, smooth yet filthy, and made me stop in my tracks.

“That’s it, ladies… fuck yes… you know exactly what daddy likes…”

Killian?

My hand tightened around the strap of my knife as heat flooded my face. Just two days into our marriage and he was already screwing around.

I should have turned away. Should have locked this away as leverage for later. But something darker kept me moving forward, step by step, until I was standing at the door.

Killian was lying naked on a black leather couch, looking like a king on his throne with his Iron Revenants chain swinging against his chest. Two women were tangled with him like snakes.

A blonde with fake tits straddled him, riding him like she had been trained for it. A brunette was on her knees, her mouth sliding over him, switching with the blonde every time he barked an order.

He didn’t bother to look up, just leaned his head back and groaned. His hair was messy and damp, a twisted grin pulling at his lips as he moaned in ecstasy.

To make matters worse, I noticed the drugs.

Lines of white powder were scattered on the glass table beside him like war paint. The air reeked of smoke, sex, sweat, and drugs, possibly cocaine or meth. Whatever it was, it had Killian’s pupils blown wide, his eyes wild, unfocused, and mean.

The women were just as gone. Their faces were streaked with glitter, their skin glistening, and their eyes glazed over as if they had traded their souls for a hit and a taste of the outlaw prince.

“God, this is way better than dealing with my cold wife,” he grunted, thrusting into the blonde like she was nothing but a warm hole.

I didn't react outwardly, but internally, something cracked.

“The princess probably has no idea what a real cock looks like.”

The blonde let out a fake, high-pitched laugh. “Poor little thing,” the brunette added, her lips swollen from the mess she had been making. “Bet she’s never even sucked one before.”

“She is probably saving herself for true love or some shit,” the blonde giggled again, grinding harder.

Killian let out a deep, filthy groan. “She can fend for herself all she wants. I have everything I need right here. Why settle for one stuck-up bitch when I can have all the pussy I want?”

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. It wasn’t jealousy burning through me. It was rage.

The disrespect. The sheer audacity of this bastard. I was supposed to be his wife, even if it was a lie. He wasn’t just cheating—he was mocking me in front of strangers.

“Does your daddy know you are already screwing around?” the brunette teased, her voice slurred with laughter.

“Oh please. He doesn’t control my dick. He can marry me off to whatever princess he wants, but he sure as hell can’t make me play house.”

“Yeah, but what if she’s actually spying on you?” the blonde asked casually.

Killian’s hand shot up to grab the brunette’s breast, rough and mean. “Let her. She is just one little girl in a house full of wolves. If she steps out of line…” He shrugged. “Accidents happen around here.”

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath as I took a slow step back, trying to blend into the shadows. But my movement caught his eye, and he turned his head.

When his eyes met mine, he flashed a confident smile.

There was no hesitation or shame in his expression. Just a slow, lazy smirk that spread like gasoline over fire.

“Well, well, well,” Killian drawled, not bothering to move or cover himself. “Look what we have here. My beautiful wife decided to join the party.”

I stayed rooted to the floor. Frozen, but not afraid. Not exactly. A different feeling welled up inside me—rage, maybe. Disgust. The pain of betrayal that I didn’t want to admit.

“Don't be shy, princess,” he taunted in a low voice. “There is plenty of room on this couch.”

The blonde giggled again and caressed his chest, while the brunette didn’t even glance my way.

“Why don’t you come show these ladies how a real wife treats her husband?” he laughed.

He wanted me to join in his drug-fueled orgy? Me?

“Come on, darling. Don’t tell me you are one of those boring wives who thinks marriage means monogamy. This is the biker world, sweetheart. We share everything here.”

The blonde on his lap giggled, her voice sticky sweet and high on whatever shit they had snorted. “Maybe she doesn’t know how. Should we show her?”

Without thinking, I swung the door open and said, “Go fuck yourself.”

Killian’s smile slipped. Just for a second. “What?”

“You heard me.” I stepped into the room, not caring that he was naked or that the two women flinched away like rats when the lights came on. “Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

The temperature dropped ten degrees at that moment. Even the music humming from the corner speaker suddenly sounded like it was holding its breath.

Killian sat up. Some of the drug haze peeled back from his eyes. “You need to watch your mouth, wife,” he said slowly. “You are in my house now, with my people. I don’t tolerate disrespect.”

I laughed coldly. “You want to talk disrespect? You have been married to me for two damn days, and you are already balls-deep in someone else, while high, and planning how to dispose of me like garbage. And I am the problem?”