Chapter 8

My husband stood in the doorway.

Time seemed to have abruptly paused.

He looked at us on the bed—me, naked, with Ryan wrapped around me.

My nightgown had long since been tossed aside, my legs were spread apart, and the sticky fluid from his recent release lingered between them, mixed with traces from earlier.

Ryan's member was still buried deep inside me.

One of his hands gripped my waist, and the other rested on my breast.

CLATTER!

The car keys in Edward's hand fell to the floor.

His face turned pale instantly, and his lips moved, but no sound came out.

Edward's figure filled the door frame.

He came back to get an important item.

For a long, terrifying time, no one spoke.

His gaze swept over the messy bed, and he saw Ryan's arm still refusing to pull away from my waist.

Shock gradually turned into rage.

"What the hell is this?" Edward's voice was low, graveled, trembling with fury.

My lips shook.

I could not find a single word to defend myself.

Ryan did not flinch.

He held me tighter, tilting his chin up to meet his father's murderous stare.

"You're back earlier than expected," he said calmly.

"You see exactly what it is," he said steadily. "I love her."

"Love her?" Edwards barked, a bitter, hollow laugh tearing out of his throat. "She is my wife. Your stepmother. How dare you betray me like this? Both of you."

"She's mine," Ryan cut him off, tightening his grip on my waist. "Ever since we were on the highway, that is."

The tension in the room thickened enough to choke.

My whole body shook violently.

Shame burned through my body like fire.

I tried to curl up instinctively, but Ryan held me firmly in place.

He thrust slowly once more, letting that hard, scorching object slide inside me and producing a faint yet distinct squelching sound.

Edward's eyes turned red instantly.

He took a step forward, his fists clenched so tightly that they creaked.

He raised his hand sharply and slapped Ryan hard across the face.

"Smack—!"

The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the quiet room.

The blow sent Ryan's head snapping to one side, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Yet he didn't flinch nor strike back.

His golden eyes simply stared at Edward.

There was no anger in them, only a kind of calm yet defiant intensity.

"Go ahead and hit me," he said in a hoarse but steady voice. "When you're done, she's still mine."

Edward's hand trembled violently.

He raised his hand again, and the second slap landed even harder.

SLAP!

Ryan's cheek swelled rapidly, and blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto my shoulder.

Yet he still didn't back down.

He chuckled and thrust into me once more, driving that hard, scorching member deeper inside.

"You bastard…" Edward's voice was torn with rage. "She's your stepmother! She's my wife!"

"I know." Ryan lifted his head, his golden eyes fixed on Edward.

His tone carried a hint of cruel composure. "That's precisely why I must possess her completely. What you can't give her, I will. What you can't satisfy in her, I will. From the moment we were on the highway, she was no longer yours."

He lowered his head and bit down hard on the bite mark on the nape of my neck.

Only when I let out a soft cry of pain did he look up at Edward.

"The marking is complete. You know the werewolf code. Once the bloodline has chosen a master, it cannot be changed."

Edward's body wavered.

He clearly knew about the hidden bloodline within the clan and what it meant once the marking was complete.

He looked at the marks between my legs—those belonging to his son—at my bite-covered body, and at the blood on Ryan's lip.

Finally, he let out a low, hoarse laugh.

"Fine..." He nodded, his voice as cold as ice. "Since you've chosen this path, you'll have to walk it to the very end."

He bent down to pick up the keys and turned to walk out.

When he reached the door, he paused.

Without looking back, he said, "I've settled the accounts. Starting today, you'll have to handle family matters on your own. From now on, all ties between us are severed."

BANG!

The door closed.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs.

A car door opened and closed.

The sound of the engine gradually faded into the distance.

Silence returned to the room.

Only then did Ryan slowly pull himself out of me.

A large amount of warm fluid gushed out and trickled down my thighs.

He rolled me over so that I was facing him.

"Do you still hate me?" he asked.

I shook my head, tears falling.

I couldn't tell if they were from shame, fear, or something more complex.

But as my body was filled by him time and time again, as the mark was deepened again and again, those emotions were gradually replaced by something more complex—dependence, surrender, and a sense of belonging that bordered on despair.

Ryan leaned down and kissed a tear from the corner of my eye.

"The highway is still there. You can leave whenever you want." His voice was hoarse.

I closed my eyes, feeling the lingering warmth inside me, and the faint sting of the bite mark on the back of my neck.

Once desire sets out on its journey, it cannot be stopped.

And I had already reached the end of the road—

or perhaps, a brand-new beginning.

"Go ahead."