The Don’s Ruin

Locker

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POV: Seraphina

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I broke the moment. I couldn't let him see too much. Couldn't let him get too close.

I reached down, grabbed my ruined skirt, and started walking toward my locker. My legs were shaking. My thighs were slick with his c*m and my own blood. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain and pleasure through my body.

But I didn't stop.

"Seraphina."

His voice was rough. Confused. He didn't understand why I was walking away.

I didn't care.

I reached my locker. The metal was cold against my palm. The combination lock spun under my fingers—years of muscle memory guiding me through the numbers. 14-27-09. The day I'd first been bullied. The day I'd learned to disappear.

I pulled it open.

The locker was small. Cramped. But it held everything I needed. Fresh clothes. A clean pair of panties. A spare bra. A change of shoes. Years of being humiliated had taught me to be prepared.

"Seraphina, wait—"

I could hear him behind me. Trying to stand. Trying to come after me.

I didn't wait.

I pulled out a pair of jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would draw attention. Just clothes. Just armor.

I dropped the ruined skirt. It fell to the floor in a heap of torn fabric and memories. I pulled on the jeans. The denim was rough against my skin. But it was clean. It was mine.

"Seraphina." His voice was sharp now. Demanding. I didn't stop.

"Seraphina, look at me." I kept walking.

"Seraphina—" I turned around.

He was right behind me. His shirt still unbuttoned, revealing the hard planes of his chest. His c**k was soft now, hanging heavy between his thighs. There was blood on his skin. My blood.

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was iron. Unbreakable.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked at him. At his ice blue eyes. At the confusion and anger and something else—something I couldn't name.

His eyes were fixed on me. Dark. Unreadable.

"You're leaving," he said.

It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

I pulled the t-shirt over my head. The cotton was soft against my skin. It covered the marks he'd left on my shoulders. The bruises that were already forming.

"Seraphina—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"I don't know what you think just happened," I said. "But it didn't mean anything."

His grip tightened, horror momentarily registered on his face but disappeared like it was never there. "You're lying."

"Am I?" I scoffed at his ridiculousness. He was just another Marcus. Wanting to own me after something so fleeting. People like Damian don’t want people like me, not truly anyways.

"You were a virgin. You gave me your virginity. And now you're telling me it didn't mean anything?" He continued moving closer to me. His dangling sticky soft c**k brushed my jeans.

"It was a ritual," I said gulping down my feelings. "A humiliation ritual. I needed to feel something. Anything. And you were there."

He stared at me. His jaw was tight. His eyes were blazing.

"Liar," he said again.

I laughed. A cold, broken sound.

"Believe what you want. It doesn't matter. I'm leaving. I'm never coming back."

I wrenched my wrist free. He let me go. But his livid eyes never left my face.

"Go ahead!," he said. "Run!. That's what you're good at, isn't it? Running away from everything that could hurt you."

I froze.

"Everything! that could hurt you," he repeated. "Everything! that could make you feel. You've been running your whole life, haven't you?! . Running from yourself?!."

I couldn't breathe.

"But you ought to know better?!, can't run from me!" he screamed, his ego filled the hallway. The man who had ravaged me earlier disappeared and changed to the future Don of family No. 1. The man everyone feared.

"And I know you're not running because you don't care. You're running because you care too much." His voice dropped to a whisper.

I opened my mouth to deny it.

No words came out.

"Go," he said turning his back to me. "Run. But I'll find you. I can always find you. And when I am ready, I won’t let you go."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I just turned around and walked away.

But his words followed me. They echoed in my head. They burrowed into my heart.

You're running because you care too much.

I didn't stop walking.

I walked out of the hallway. Out of the school. Out of everything I'd ever known.

And I didn't look back.