The pretense of matrimonial obligation shattered the moment Rheakar’s rough hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head like I was nothing more than a fuckdoll waiting to be used.
His knuckles dug into my flesh, the aching pressure a grim reminder of the vast chasm between the woman I had been and the trembling piece of meat I was now.
His breath was hot and rancid against my ear, a cruel whisper that slithered into my skull.
"You're mine again, Luna. Every hole, every inch of you. Don’t bother pretending this isn’t what you were made for."
My resistance was pathetic, a feeble push against his chest, the turn of my face away from his wet, greedy lips, but it only seemed to fuel him.
Rheakar laughed, low and dark, his cock already straining against his trousers, pressing into my thigh with a sickening familiarity.
"Oh, I love it when you fight," he growled, his fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my head back until my scalp burned and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "It makes it so much sweeter when I break you."
The skirt of my dress was ripped away in one ruthless motion, the sound of tearing fabric a prelude to the violation that followed.
His hands were everywhere, pawing at my thighs, spreading them apart with a force that made my bones ache. There was no gentleness, no attempt to soothe or seduce.
This wasn’t passion—it was dominance, pure and unrelenting. His fingers plunged into me without warning, cold and invasive, curling in a way that made my body betray me with a traitorous twitch.
I tried to close my legs, but Rheakar’s knee pressed between them, forcing me open wider than I thought possible.
With a brutal thrust, he buried himself inside me, the stretch and burn making me cry out in pain.
"That’s it," he groaned, his hips pounding into mine with a savage rhythm. "Take it all. Every inch of me."
The room spun around me, the carved roses on the ceiling molding blurring into a nonsensical pattern.
Seventeen full blooms, twenty-three buds—I counted them over and over, clinging to the numbers like they could save me from the horror of what was happening.
The shadows on the wall danced in time with Rheakar’s thrusts, a cruel mockery of the intimacy that should have been.
"You’re going to take my seed," he snarled, his voice thick with lust. "And when it takes root in that slutty cunt of yours, you’ll know your place."
His breath was ragged against my throat, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made me shudder.
When he finally pulled out, his cum dripped out of me, pooling on the sheets beneath us.
The tears came then, silent and endless, sliding into my hair as I curled into myself, trying to disappear. The room was cold, and I couldn’t move. My body felt alien, a vessel for his cruelty and nothing more.
Rheakar rose from the bed with the casual indifference reserved for completed tasks, adjusting his clothing with methodical precision.
Not once did he look at my face, as if I had ceased to exist beyond the function I'd just served. His movements carried no urgency, no shame, no acknowledgment that anything of significance had transpired.
"You should visit the healer once signs of pregnancy manifest," he said, his tone so conversational he might have been discussing the weather or household logistics.
"Marcus will confirm what we've accomplished here. I expect regular reports on your condition—weekly examinations should suffice to track the progression."
The door closed behind him with quiet finality, the soft click of the latch somehow more violent than if he had slammed it.
I remained motionless on the bed, my body a foreign territory I could not yet reclaim. The silk sheets beneath me felt like sand against raw skin, every texture suddenly too much, too present, too real.
When movement finally returned to my limbs, it brought me only far enough to curl into myself—knees drawn to chest, arms wrapped tight, a protective gesture that came far too late to protect anything at all.
The position of a child seeking comfort that would never come, safety that no longer existed in this world.
The tears arrived with the force of a dam breaking. My body shook with sobs I hadn't allowed myself since that first terrible flight into darkness, when I'd run bleeding through the forest with three lives beneath my heart.
The strength that had carried me through six years of exile, through the terror of flight and the careful construction of a new life, had dissolved into nothing.
The woman who had stood on Moonridge's walls and negotiated terms with an Alpha had vanished, leaving only this hollow shell that barely remembered how to breathe.
Yet even in this moment of absolute devastation, even as I wanted nothing more than to dissolve into the void that beckoned with promises of numbness, faces began to surface in my mind.
Kai's serious gray eyes, always watching, always understanding more than a six-year-old should. Finn's gentle perception that noticed every hurt and tried to heal it with small kindnesses.
Atlas's fierce protectiveness that would rage against anyone who threatened those he loved.
Lucien's steadfast presence pulled at me through the despair—my brother who had given me sanctuary, who even now worked to free me from this nightmare.
He would not abandon me. He would not let this be the end of my story.
And Korin—bleeding in chains because he had chosen my freedom over his safety, enduring torture rather than revealing my location. How could I surrender to despair when he bore so much worse with such courage?
These thoughts became anchors, pulling me back from the edge of complete dissolution. My trembling fingers found the hidden vial of Martha's potion, Lucien's foresight a small mercy in this horror.
Three drops on my tongue, bitter as the tears still falling, but carrying the promise that at least this violation would not bear fruit.
I would endure. Not because I was strong at this moment, but because others depended on my survival. My sons needed their mother to return. Lucien needed his sister to hold on.
Korin needed someone to remember he was worth saving.
The tears continued to fall, my body still trembling with aftershocks of trauma that would mark me forever.
But beneath the devastation, beneath the desire to simply cease existing, something harder than despair began to crystallize.
Even if it destroyed me, even if I emerged from this as someone unrecognizable, I would endure.