Mated with a human

chapter 21

Sofia’s POV

I went downstairs and found my aunt in the kitchen.

“Auntie,” I said softly, “can I use your phone for a moment?”

She nodded without asking questions and handed it to me.

I stepped aside and quickly dialed Zoe, then added Molly to make it a conference call.

The line connected.

“Sofia?” Zoe’s voice came through immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just wanted to check… did you guys arrive home safely?”

“Yes,” Zoe replied. “We did.”

Molly hummed softly. “I got home and passed out.”

I swallowed. “Do any of you remember… did I leave the club with my handbag?”

There was a short pause.

Zoe spoke first. “You did have it with you. I remember clearly. You were holding it when Jayson pulled you aside.”

“So…” I murmured, my chest tightening.

“You probably forgot it in Jayson's car,” Zoe added.

Molly sighed. “I honestly can’t remember much. I was too drunk.”

Zoe’s voice softened. “Sofia… are you okay? You sound… a little off.”

I forced a small smile into my voice. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

“If you need anything—”

“I’ll be okay,” I interrupted gently. “Thank you, guys.”

After saying goodbye, I ended the call and returned my aunt’s phone.

“Thank you, Auntie,” I said quietly.

She nodded, then I hesitated before asking, “Do you know if the security guards saw the person who dropped me off last night?”

My aunt paused, then shook her head.

“They didn’t see his face, sweetheart. It was too dark.”

I lowered my gaze, disappointment washing over me.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I left the kitchen and started walking upstairs.

Halfway up, I stopped.

My father was coming down.

We froze at the same time.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding. He avoided my eyes and walked past me, heading straight toward his study.

I turned slowly.

Then followed him.

Sofia stepped fully into the study after her father and quietly closed the door behind her.

She stood there, unmoving.

Her father walked to his desk and sat down, folding his hands together before finally lifting his gaze to her.

She opened her mouth.

“Daddy—”

He raised his hand, stopping her.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked calmly.

Her throat tightened. She fought the tears burning her eyes and took a few steps closer.

“Daddy… I’m sorry for last night,” she said softly. “It won’t happen again. I was just… thinking a lot after what Mom told me.”

She paused, gathering courage.

“She told me about the arranged marriage. The one you and her planned for me.” Her voice trembled. “Dad, I don’t understand. How could you and Mom decide something like this—my future—without even talking to me first?”

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. He stood up, then leaned back against the edge of his desk, studying her.

“Between you and me,” he said, “who is the child here?”

She stayed silent.

“Am I not your parent?” he continued. “Don’t you know that as your father, it is my responsibility to take care of you? You are my responsibility.”

His voice grew firmer.

“If your mother and I don’t protect you, then who will? We are doing our best to make sure your future has no obstacles. A simple life. A secure life. One without troubles.”

Sofia listened, her chest aching.

Then she looked up at him.

“Daddy… you don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” she said quietly. “You can’t guarantee that my future will go exactly the way you and Mom planned.”

She shook her head slightly.

“Things change. Life changes. You can’t predict it.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop.

“This is my life.”

Her father’s expression hardened.

“Sofia,” he said, his voice low and controlled, “you speak as if you understand the world better than we do.”

She opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her speak.

“You are young. You are emotional. And right now, you are confused,” he continued. “Life is not built on feelings. It is built on decisions—hard decisions—made by those who know better.”

Her hands curled into fists.

“You say this is your life,” he went on, stepping away from the desk. “But as long as you live under my roof, eat my food, and carry my name, your life is also my responsibility.”

“Daddy—” she tried again.

“No,” he cut her off sharply. “You will listen.”

The finality in his voice made her chest tighten.

“Your mother and I have decided what is best for you,” he said. “And you will do exactly what we decide. You do not get a say in this.”

Her breath hitched.

“This marriage will happen,” he added. “Whether you agree or not.”

Tears spilled over, but anger burned hotter.

“So I’m just… what?” she shouted. “A thing you pass from one family to another? A deal?”

His jaw clenched.

“You are my daughter,” he snapped. “And you will obey.”

Something inside her shattered.

“You don’t get to control my whole life!” she cried. “You don’t get to decide who I love—who I become—like I don’t matter!”

He turned away from her, his back stiff.

“This conversation is over,” he said coldly. “Go to your room. We will not discuss this again.”

Her heart pounded painfully.

“So that’s it?” she whispered. “You won’t even hear me out?”

He didn’t turn around.

“You will do as you’re told, Sofia.”

That was it.

She let out a broken sob, spun around, and ran out of the study. Her footsteps echoed through the hallway as she raced upstairs, tears blinding her.

She reached her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

The moment the lock clicked, her strength gave out.

She ran to her bed and collapsed onto it, burying her face into the pillow as her body shook. Her cries came out raw and muffled, the kind that hurt her chest and left her gasping for air.

Her room felt too small.

Too quiet.

Too heavy.

No one knocked.

No one came.

She was alone.

Luke walked beside his grandmother as they made their way back home from church. The morning air was calm, birds chirping softly, the streets unusually peaceful. His grandmother talked about the sermon, about faith and patience, her voice gentle and warm.

But Luke wasn’t really listening.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the night before.

To the dark road.

To the men.

To the fear in her voice.

He clenched his jaw as the memory replayed in fragments—too sharp, too close. The way his body had reacted without thought. The strength that had surged through him, unfamiliar and frightening. He remembered the sound of bone cracking beneath his grip.

He swallowed hard.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

His voice… it had changed. Gone deeper. Colder. Like it didn’t belong to him. And the anger—raw, violent—had come so easily. Too easily.

“Luke?” his grandmother called softly, stopping in her steps.

He blinked, realizing he had slowed down.

“Yes, gogo?” he replied, forcing a small smile.

“You’ve been quiet since church,” she said, studying him closely. “Is something troubling you, my boy?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, gogo. I’m fine. Just tired.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway, reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently.

“Whatever weighs on your heart,” she said, “remember, God sees even what we don’t understand ourselves.”

Her words settled uneasily in his chest.

They continued walking.

As they neared their house, Luke’s mind returned to her face—the fear in her eyes, the way she’d gone limp after the blow to her head. He remembered carrying her, the weight of her body in his arms, the steady rise and fall of her chest as he laid her down safely.

Had she woken up?

Was she okay?

His fingers twitched at his sides.

He hadn’t stayed. He couldn’t. Something inside him had warned him to leave before anyone saw his face.

Before he lost control again.

They reached the gate, his grandmother unlocking it slowly. Luke stepped inside, his heart heavy with questions he had no answers to.

Who was he becoming?

And why did that night feel like the beginning of something he couldn’t stop?