Davian.
The mont Vanessa staggered into my room that night, bruised and trembling, my heart lurched violently in my chest.
For a split second, I couldn’t breathe.
Every horrible possibility crashed into my mind at once. An ambush. An assassination attempt. Poison. Sothing unspeakable. Sothing irreversible. My body moved before my thoughts caught up, I was already crossing the room, already gripping her shoulders, my eyes scanning her frantically as panic clawed its way up my throat.
"Vanessa," I breathed, my voice rough, unsteady. "What happened to you?"
She looked so small standing there, her usual elegance dulled by pain, her skin marred with ugly bruises that made my vision blur with rage. My hands shook as I guided her to sit, my chest burning with the terrifying thought that I might have almost lost her.
Then she spoke.
She told it was Maria.
The mont her words sank in, sothing inside snapped.
Fury, unlike anything I had ever known roared to life in my veins, hot and violent. My vision darkened at the edges, my wolf surging forward with a vicious snarl. Maria. That rogue. That ungrateful, deceitful thing. My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
I wanted to kill her.
The urge was imdiate and overwhelming. I wanted to storm out of the room, tear down her door, wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until there was nothing left. No breath. No defiance. No more trouble. I was already turning, already taking a step toward the door, my mind consud by the need to make her pay.
But Vanessa stopped .
"Davian," she said softly, her voice weak but pleading. Despite the pain she was in, despite the bruises staining her skin, she reached for . "There is no need to go over there now. It’s late... and she wasn’t alone."
I froze.
"There was so other guy with her," she continued, her brows knitting as if trying to recall details through the haze of pain. "I couldn’t see his face clearly."
Those words sank deep.
Slowly, my rage sharpened into sothing colder. More dangerous.
I had always suspected Maria. Always felt that there was sothing off about her presence, sothing calculated beneath her submissive exterior. She watched too much. Listened too closely. Asked questions she shouldn’t. I had sensed it, felt it in my bones, but I hadn’t had proof.
Now I did.
A rogue. Alone. With another man. At that hour.
A spy.
The realization settled heavily in my chest, solidifying into certainty. My jaw tightened as I stared at Vanessa, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t just disobedience. This wasn’t just insolence. This was betrayal. And soon, very soon, I would expose her for exactly what she was.
Still, every instinct in scread to leave the room. To act. To punish.
But then I looked back at Vanessa.
She was pale, her breathing uneven, her body tense with pain she was clearly trying to hide for my sake. The anger inside faltered, overridden by sothing stronger, sothing protective.
I couldn’t leave her like this.
With a restrained growl, I turned away from the door and went to her instead. Carefully, gently, I helped her lie back, my movents controlled despite the storm raging inside . I fetched clean clothes, warm water, ointnt, anything that could ease her pain.
My hands—hands that only monts ago had curled with the violent urge to kill, now moved with deliberate, almost reverent precision. Each motion was controlled, restrained by sheer force of will, as though I feared that a single careless touch might shatter what little calm remained. I dabbed gently at her skin, cleaning each bruise slowly, thodically, as if patience alone could undo what had been done to her. Soft murmurs slipped from my lips, reassurances I wasn’t even sure she heard, but needed all the sa.
My eyes burned as I worked, the fury inside kept tightly caged. Every mark on her skin felt personal. Insulting. Like a direct challenge I had failed to prevent. Purple blossod beneath pale flesh, angry and unmistakable, each bruise a reminder of my own restraint. Of how close I had co to bloodshed. She winced now and then, a sharp inhale, a subtle tightening of her fingers, and every ti she did, sothing inside hardened, setting like steel.
Maria would pay.
The promise settled deep in my chest, heavy and absolute.
But not tonight.
Tonight belonged to Vanessa.
I stayed with her, refusing to leave even when exhaustion tugged at my limbs. I tended to her quietly, adjusting her position, smoothing back her hair, staying alert to every change in her breathing. Gradually, the tightness in her body eased. Her breaths evened out, no longer shallow or rushed. When her eyes finally fluttered closed and sleep claid her, it looked peaceful, fragile, hard-won. I didn’t move. I remained there, seated at her side, a silent sentinel guarding what mattered most.
Only then did I allow my thoughts to drift back to Maria.
Soon, I promised myself, the word sharp and cold in my mind.
Very soon.
Morning crept in reluctantly, a dull, grey light seeping into the room without warmth or comfort. It did nothing to loosen the unease coiled tight in my chest. I watched Vanessa for signs of movent, for any indication that she was waking.
She didn’t.
At first, I told myself she was simply exhausted, her body finally surrendering to the weight of the night before. But when I placed my palm against her forehead, alarm struck fast and hard. Heat radiated beneath my skin, unnatural, alarming. Feverish. Too hot.
My jaw tightened as dread settled in.
Sothing wasn’t right.
I watched her chest rise and fall, shallow and uneven, her lashes resting against skin that had gone pale beneath the bruises. My mind raced, circling the sa dark question over and over again, what had they used on her? What kind of attack leaves marks like that and steals warmth from the body while setting it on fire from the inside?
Only one na surfaced.
Maria.
Rage settled deep in my gut, heavy and poisonous. I swore then, silently and viciously, that the mont I laid eyes on her, she would pay. There would be no rcy left in . None.
She always did this, played the victim. Always pale. Always trembling. Always weak-looking, as though the world itself had wronged her. But I saw through it now. Beneath that fragile exterior was sothing rotten. Sothing deceitful and cruel. A creature that smiled softly while sinking its claws into others.
Terribly evil.
Disgusting.
I stayed by Vanessa’s side for hours, barely moving, my eyes never leaving her face. Each minute that passed without her waking only sharpened my fury. I imagined Maria’s face. Her lies. Her trembling voice pretending innocence. The thought alone made my hands itch for the whip.
Then—finally—Vanessa stirred.
It was subtle at first. A faint shift. A shallow breath turning deeper. Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, painfully, her eyes opened.
Relief crashed over so hard my knees nearly buckled.
"Vanessa," I breathed, imdiately leaning closer. "You’re awake."
Her gaze was unfocused at first, then gradually cleared as she recognized . She tried to move, winced, and I was instantly there, steadying her, murmuring reassurances until she relaxed back against the pillows.
That was it.
I didn’t wait another second.
I summoned Maria.
When she was dragged into the room, she looked exactly as I had imagined, pale, frail, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast like a martyr walking to her execution. Anyone else might have pitied her. Anyone else might have hesitated.
Not .
She lifted her head just enough to et my gaze, and when she spoke, when she actually dared to tell , to my face, that Vanessa was lying, sothing inside exploded.
The last thread of restraint snapped.
Liar.
Witch.
I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t question her further. Words were useless on creatures like her. She needed to be taught. To be reminded of her place.
The whip sang through the air.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Each strike landed with a sickening sound, the force shuddering up my arm as her body jerked under the impact. She cried out, soft at first, then hoarse, then barely audible, but it only fueled the fire raging inside .
She kept lying.
Kept insisting on her innocence with that sa hollow, trembling voice.
I struck her again.
And again.
Until her knees buckled.
Until her body couldn’t take any more.
Until she collapsed, unconscious, crumpling to the floor like sothing discarded.
For a brief mont, the room fell silent.
Then the anger surged back—stronger.
She fainted.
Of course she did.
Always an escape. Always a way out. Even now, she tried to avoid paying the full price by slipping into darkness. The sight of her still body didn’t calm . It enraged further. My chest heaved, my vision red, my wolf snarling inside , unsatisfied.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
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