Chapter 6

"Free..." These two words pierced my heart deeply. This was how Darius always referred to me—Whore. I stole a quick glance at the photos from a few years ago, a bitter emptiness flooding my chest. This man believed those pictures, but he wouldn’t believe me. No matter how much I explained today, he wouldn’t believe a single word. Why should I even bother trying? "Alpha Darius, are you about to marry your luna?" I asked suddenly. "If I remember correctly, your wedding to Miss Isolde is at the end of this month, right?" Darius furrowed his brow, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing. I lowered my lashes, my voice barely above a whisper. "So, you’re about to have your luna. Why do you keep dragging me into this? If you want me to pay off a debt, I’ll give you my life…" As long as I could stay by his side, as long as… I could see him every day. I would be content. "Why do you insist on having sex with me? What do you think I am?" He already had a fiancée. Even if it was just for release, he shouldn’t be seeking it from me. "Seraphina Lycoris, for Damon Hawthorne, are you so eager to sever ties with me?" Alpha Darius suddenly pinned me down, forcing me to lie on the couch, face down. His muscular body pressed tightly against mine. "You think you mean something to me?" he growled. "In my eyes, you're nothing. Even if I marry, it changes nothing. You still owe me. And you will pay. You think you can leave me for another man? Dream on." Darius ripped off my skirt and panties, his voice a vicious snarl near my ear. "Let me warn you—if I catch you with Damon Hawthorne again, I’ll post this moment on Instagram for the world to see how cheap you are." His hand tightened around my neck. "I mean it. Don’t test my limits. As long as you're alive, you're just an ant in my hands. I want you to suffer so much that you'll beg for death." I gave up on trying to explain. I closed my eyes and endured his every brutal movement. After it was over, Darius took a photo of me—disheveled and lying on the couch. "If I find out you're still in contact with Damon Hawthorne, I’ll send him this picture," he threatened. With that, he turned and left without another glance. I curled up, closing my eyes. I remembered what the doctor had told me. "You’re overdrawing your body. It's suicide. If you undergo surgery now, there’s still a chance to heal. But if you wait two more months, it will be too late." I stared blankly at the couch in front of me. Would Darius be shocked if I died? Would he think of me in some quiet, lonely night? Would he remember that there was once a woman who loved him without hesitation? And if he did, would there be any regret, any sorrow in his heart? If there was, maybe dying wouldn’t be in vain. After all, living only meant enduring Darius’s relentless torment and disgust. He would never let me go—he would torment me until I died. I knew he meant every word he said. He wanted me to live a life of eternal atonement. And rather than suffer for decades, maybe it would be better to end it all now. One and done. After the photo incident, Darius became even crueler, even more violent toward me. Every time he touched me, he called me dirty, vile—"She's such a slut." I didn’t want to explain, but my silence only provoked him further. And with Alpha Darius’s wedding to his Luna Shadowmere drawing near, he began seeking me out more often. I could almost feel his rising agitation. It was probably pre-wedding nerves. After all, he adored Isolde so much. Now, marrying his most beloved luna—it was bound to make him anxious. Late at night, after Darius had finished and left the villa, I curled up, barely conscious. But then, my phone suddenly rang. An unfamiliar number.