Chapter 3 Three

Anastasia’s POV

His words slice through me like a blade.

The bruises you try so hard to conceal.

I freeze, trembling, the glass still warm from his hand. My body betrays me with silent tears, unstoppable. My instinct screams to run. To hide. To bury this moment before it becomes something I can’t undo.

I push off the stool, but before I can take a step, Victor’s hand clamps around mine. His grip is firm, unyielding, pulling me back into his orbit.

“Let me take you home.”

Panic rushes through me. “I—I came in my car.” My voice wavers. Maybe that will make him release me.

But he doesn’t. His storm-gray eyes study me with unnerving calm, as though he sees through every flimsy excuse. “Leave it. I’ll have someone collect it tomorrow. You’ve had too much to drive and you know it.”

The worst part? He’s right. My head is fogged, my limbs heavy with whiskey. Still, dread coils inside me. Being close to him feels like dancing on the edge of a cliff,one wrong move and I’ll fall.

“Let’s go.” His hand shifts to my shoulder, guiding me firmly toward the exit. I flinch, but he doesn’t relent. His presence is suffocating, intoxicating, inevitable.

The night air hits like a slap, but it does nothing to cool the fever burning through me. His car gleams under the streetlights, sleek and predatory. He opens the door for me, and before I can argue, I’m inside.

The city blurs past as he drives, his silence heavy, coiled. My thoughts scream against themselves. Don’t think about him like that. Don’t even look at him. Don’t imagine his hands on you.

But my body doesn’t listen.

The thought of him, The man Damon calls “Father”being the one to touch me, to claim me, feels like poison and salvation all at once. Revenge and ruin. And it terrifies me how much I want it.

“Why do you stay?” His voice breaks the silence, deep and rough. “Why do you put up with Damon’s abuse?”

I blink, startled. No one has ever asked me that before. Not like this.

“I… because he’s my mate.” The words come out weak, trembling.

Victor glances at me, his jaw tight. “Not because you love him?”

Love. The word feels foreign, twisted. Do I love Damon? No. I fear him. I resent him. I loathe him. If love ever existed between us, it’s buried under bruises and betrayals.

I can’t answer. Silence says enough.

Victor doesn’t press further. He drives in seething quiet, his grip on the wheel taut, veins etched like marble.

When we reach the packhouse, it’s eerily still. The Omegas are still working the party, the halls are empty. No sign of Damon. No sign of Penelope. Probably tangled in some expensive hotel bed, laughing at me.

The thought makes bile rise in my throat. Tears sting again as I stumble into the bedroom, flicking on the light. My sanctuary feels like a coffin.

“Will you be alright?”

I startle. I’d forgotten he followed me inside. His towering figure fills the doorway, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.

“Yes,” I whisper, though it’s a lie. “Thank you.”

He studies me for a long, unnerving moment. Then he nods once. “Goodnight, Anastasia.”

That’s it. My breaking point.

“Wait!” The word bursts out before I can stop it.

He pauses, hand on the doorknob, turning slowly. His gaze is heavy, questioning. “What is it?”

My breath shakes. This is madness. Pure madness. But I’m drowning in heartbreak, rage, whiskey, and years of forbidden temptation.

Hell with the consequences.

I step forward, fingers trembling as they reach for the zipper at the back of my dress. The fabric slips from my shoulders, pooling at my feet. My panties follow, leaving only the thin lace of my bra.

Victor’s eyes narrow, dark and dangerous but they never leave me.

“What do you want, Anastasia?” His voice is rough, controlled, but beneath it I hear the crack of restraint straining.

I swallow hard, every nerve screaming. I close the space between us, standing on my toes to brush my lips against his.

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move.

Then his hands clamp down on my shoulders, hard enough to sting. He shakes me once, eyes blazing. “What the hell are you playing at?!”

Pain shoots through me, but I see it—the truth straining against his fury. The sharp rise of his chest. The bulge pressing against his tailored pants.

“You want this as much as I do,” I whisper, daring to cup him through the fabric.

A ragged groan escapes his throat before he curses, releasing me like I burn him. His eyes are wild, stormy, devouring.

And in the next second, restraint shatters.

“Fuck this.”

He seizes my face and crushes his mouth to mine. The kiss is savage, claiming, leaving me breathless. His hands tear through my hair, freeing it from its tie. One palm grips my ass, squeezing, spanking, igniting me into flames.

He lifts me with effortless strength and throws me onto the bed. My breath catches as I see his shirt ripped open, muscles coiled, desire carved into every line of his body.

He looms over me, shadows and hunger. His weight presses me down, his chest a wall of heat against mine.

“Try not to scream,” he growls, voice ragged with lust.

The warning barely registers before he thrusts into me, and my cry is swallowed by his mouth. The pain rips through me, sharp and brutal, but his hands in my hair, his lips against mine, soften the edges.

Then pain gives way to fire.

His rhythm grows fierce, unrelenting. Each thrust a brand, a claim, a punishment and a salvation all at once. His storm-gray eyes never leave mine, locking me in place as though daring me to look away.

“You’re mine, Anastasia,” he snarls, pinning my wrists above my head. “You’ve always been mine. From the first moment I saw you.”

Terror and desire twist inside me. His words shake me more than his thrusts.

“Say it.” He pulls back, slamming into me again, forcing a scream from my lips. “Say you’re mine.”

“I—I’m yours!” The confession bursts out, half-sob, half-moan. My body convulses, shattering around him.

“Say my name.” His voice is gravel, demanding.

“Victor!” I cry out as another wave crashes through me, fiercer than the last. “I’m yours, Victor. I’m all yours.”

He groans, deep and primal, before pouring himself into me with one final thrust. His body shudders, collapsing against mine, his arms caging me, pulling me close.

The room is silent except for our ragged breaths. My heart pounds against his chest, against the thunder of his own.

And as exhaustion drags me under, tangled in his arms, one thought drowns all others.

I don’t know if I’ve just taken back my power…

…or surrendered it forever.