Seraphina’s POV
The door slamd shut behind him.
The sound echoed through the empty suite like a gunshot. Final. Damning.
I stayed curled on the bed, his jacket wrapped around like armor that couldn’t protect from anything that actually mattered.
My whole body shook. Not from cold. From everything else.
His hands on . His mouth. His voice promising I’d never escape again.
The tears ca harder. Hot. Endless. Soaking into the expensive sheets.
I pulled the jacket tighter. It slled like him. That familiar scent that used to an safety. Ho. Everything good in my life.
Now it just slled like a cage.
My ribs scread with every breath. The bruises from the fight throbbed in ti with my heartbeat. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the rest of it.
Three years.
Three years I’d been gone. Three years I’d convinced myself I was doing the right thing. That staying away was protecting them. Protecting him.
From what? From being weak? From not being good enough?
*You were right about that,* a cruel voice whispered in my head. *You’re not good enough. You never were.*
I pushed myself up slowly. Everything hurt. My face felt like soone had used it as a punching bag. Which they had. My hands shook as I touched the bandages soone—Damien—had put on while I was unconscious.
He’d changed my clothes. Cleaned my wounds. Taken care of .
Then attacked like I was prey.
The kiss flashed through my mindâ€"violent and desperate and absolutely terrifying. His hands everywhere. His weight pinning down. Those words.
*You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.*
I forced myself to stand. My legs trembled but held. The room spun for a second before steadying.
I needed to get out. Needed to run. That’s what I was good at, right? Running away when things got hard?
The door mocked from across the room. Locked. Of course it was locked.
I tried anyway. Stumbled over on shaking legs and pulled at the handle until my already-damaged hands scread in protest.
Nothing. It wouldn’t budge.
"Fuck." The word ca out broken. Wet with tears I couldn’t stop.
I looked around desperately. Windows. But I was too high up. Even if I could break them—which I probably couldn’t—the fall would kill .
My phone. I needed my phone.
I tore through the room like a madwoman. Checked every drawer. Every surface. Under the bed. In the bathroom.
Gone. Everything was gone. My phone. My wallet. My keys. Even my bloody fighting clothes had disappeared.
He’d taken everything.
Trapped here like so kind of prisoner.
I sank onto the bathroom floor. The cold tile felt good against my burning skin. The tears wouldn’t stop coming no matter how hard I tried.
*Why did you co for ?*
That’s what I couldn’t understand. Why now? After three years, why did he suddenly care?
Then the answer hit like a punch to the gut.
That woman.
The one I’d seen him with. Brown hair. Beautiful smile. Standing next to him at that restaurant like she belonged there.
*Oh God.*
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.
He’d moved on. Found soone new. Soone better. Soone who could actually be a proper Luna for his pack. Who could stand beside him without being a constant reminder of failure.
Soone who wasn’t broken.
And now he’d found . Dragged back. Locked in this expensive cage.
Why?
Unless...
*No.*
But the thought wouldn’t leave. It burrowed into my brain like poison.
What if he wanted both? Wanted his perfect new Luna for show. His legitimate wife. His respectable partner.
And ? Kept hidden. Secret. The dirty little secret he could visit when he wanted. The woman he could claim without having to acknowledge in daylight.
The mistress.
A sob tore out of . Loud. Ugly. The kind of crying that ca from sowhere deep and wounded.
*Is that what I am now? The woman on the side?*
It made horrible sense. He’d made it clear I wasn’t leaving. That he’d hunt down if I ran. But he hadn’t said anything about our children. About bringing ho. About us being a family again.
Just that I was his. That I belonged to him.
Like property. Like sothing to own and hide away.
"No." I pressed my hands over my mouth. "No, no, no."
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
He couldn’t bring ho. Not after three years. Not looking like this—covered in bruises and scars and evidence of everything I’d beco. The pack would never accept . Children barely rembered .
I couldn’t go back. Couldn’t waltz back into their lives and expect everything to be okay. Couldn’t erase three years of absence with apologies and explanations.
They’d moved on. Built a life without . Found happiness with soone new. Soone better.
And Damien... Damien wanted to keep anyway.
Not as his wife. Not as his Luna. Not as the mother of his children.
As his secret. His sha. His thing to own and control and keep hidden from the world.
The thought made want to vomit.
I turned away from my reflection. Couldn’t stand looking at myself anymore.
The bed looked enormous. Empty. Cold despite the expensive sheets and soft pillows.
I climbed onto it slowly. Every movent hurt. Every breath reminded of injuries I’d earned in that ring.
Injuries I’d choose over this. Over being trapped. Over being soone’s hidden sha.
I curled into a ball on my side. Drew my knees up to my chest. Made myself as small as possible.
The tears wouldn’t stop. Kept falling. Soaking the pillow. Mixing with blood from my split lip.
His prisoner. His property. His dirty little secret.
The sobs ca harder. Shaking my whole body. Making my ribs scream in protest. Making my face throb where it was already swollen.
My eyes burned. My throat hurt from crying. My whole body ached with exhaustion and pain and three years of running finally catching up to .
*I’m so tired.*
The darkness crept in around the edges of my vision. My body giving up. Shutting down. Choosing unconsciousness over dealing with any more of this nightmare.
I let it take .
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