Chapter 2
1103 Words
SORA POV
The smell of vanilla and groundnut hit me before I even saw them.
I paused in the doorway, blinking against the soft golden light spilling from the kitchen. Flour dusted the counter. The sound of laughter—their laughter—rose and fell like the cruel rhythm of a song meant to haunt me.
“Sora,” Cecily chirped without shame, “I was craving red velvet cake and Lucien said we should bake it together. You know he cares about making everybody in the pack happy, including me. But—” she giggled, “you can’t eat it because he put groundnut in it. You’re allergic. I’m sorry, but I really wanted nuts inside the cake. I hope you’re not angry?”
Allergic. She said it like it was a joke, a taunt disguised as sweetness.
Lucien wiped his hands on a towel, his smirk cutting through me like a blade. “Angry? My mate is a gentle soul. Why would she be angry? Plus, I don’t think she should be eating sweet things.” His tone dripped with mock affection. “You know, for her health.”
I stared at him. His trousers were half-zipped, Cecily’s hair tangled, and a faint flush still lingered on her cheeks. My stomach twisted, bile burning my throat.
Did she… give him a blowjob in my kitchen?
The scent of their mixed arousal answered for me. My wolf growled softly in my mind, low and broken: He marked you with lies, not love.
Lucien stepped forward, arms open as if nothing had happened. “Are you okay?” His fake concern made me sick. “You look tired. Should I carry you upstairs? What did you want to tell me this morning?”
I wanted to vomit.
He reeked of her.
The scent of s*x and betrayal clung to him like perfume. I stepped back before he could touch me. He frowned slightly but didn’t press. Maybe he liked watching me in pain.
I said nothing. Just turned and walked away—my hands trembling so badly I had to grip the wall for balance.
We had separate rooms. His idea. He said it helped him “focus” as Alpha, that it gave him clarity to lead the pack. I had believed him like a fool. Now, I was grateful for the distance.
Behind me, his voice drifted lazily:
“She looks tired. Poor thing.”
Poor thing.
I wanted to scream, but my throat felt locked, sealed by pain.
Upstairs, I shut my door and leaned against it, my body shaking from exhaustion and disgust. My wolf whimpered inside me.
Run, she whispered. Before it’s too late.
But where would I go? I was sick. Pregnant. Weak. And still—some pathetic part of me loved him.
I slid down to the cold floor. My palms pressed against the tiles until my fingers numbed. Their laughter echoed faintly through the walls, twisting like a knife.
That night, Lucien didn’t come home. I didn’t need to wonder where he was.
By morning, the air itself felt heavy. My body burned with fever. Every muscle ached. My chest tightened with every breath. I tried to sit up, but the room spun violently. I clawed for the side of the bed, gasping, sweat beading down my face.
Tears spilled before I could stop them. The pain was unbearable—like my heart and kidneys were warring inside me.
When Lucien finally returned, the afternoon sun was bleeding into the room. He stood at the doorway, face painted with mock surprise.
“Baby,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”
How could I call when I could barely breathe? My lips trembled. No sound came out.
He walked over, touched my forehead briefly, then turned away. “You’re burning up. Wait here.”
He came back minutes later with a small cup of murky brown liquid. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”
I stared at it. The bitter herbal scent made my stomach twist.
“It’s the usual painkiller,” he said, voice smooth. “You trust me, don’t you?”
Once, I would’ve said yes.
Now, I only nodded faintly.
The liquid burned down my throat. Warmth spread quickly through my limbs—too quickly. My body began to grow heavy, my eyelids drooping.
“Sleep,” Lucien whispered, stroking my hair. “You’ll feel better when you wake.”
His touch made my skin crawl. But the sedative hit me before I could move away.
The world blurred, the room fading into fog. Somewhere between sleep and waking, I heard faint noises—groaning, muffled laughter.
I tried to open my eyes. Couldn’t.
Tried again. My lashes fluttered weakly, vision swimming in fragments.
Two bodies moved above me.
No. Not above—on the bed. My bed.
Cecily’s moans filled the room, loud, obscene. Lucien’s voice followed, low and rough.
My blood ran cold.
They were having s*x—on my bed—while I lay helpless on the floor. I hadn’t even realized I wasn’t on the mattress anymore. My body had been shoved off, dumped like trash.
I wanted to scream, to tear their throats out, but my mouth wouldn’t open. My fingers twitched uselessly.
“Faster,” Cecily moaned. “Yes… please.”
Lucien grunted. “You’re perfect. Not like her.”
Her laughter sliced through me. “Don’t mention her name.” She turned her head, meeting my half-open eyes with a cruel smile. “Oops,” she whispered, raising her middle finger at me.
Tears slipped silently down my face. I couldn’t even blink them away.
It was a long, endless night. I lay there on the cold floor, numb from pain and drugs, listening to the sounds of my mate and my best friend destroying what little remained of my soul.
When it was finally over, they left together, laughing softly.
The silence that followed was worse.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling my heart beat faintly against my ribs. My wolf moved, her voice low and dangerous. We are dying, Sora… but not today.
I exhaled shakily. “Then when?” I whispered weakly.
When we're strong enough to kill them both.
A small, broken laugh escaped me. It sounded foreign—almost like a ghost.
And then, for the first time, I didn’t cry. I just lay there, staring into the shadows, letting the pain become something else—something colder. Something powerful.
By dawn, I knew I would never be the same woman again.
- Writer
