Zayn let go of her and stood motionless at the edge of the bed, his breath coming in sharp, measured bursts trying to hold himself together. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
His wolf growled restlessly inside him. Uneasy and Conflicted?
None of it made sense.
She was supposed to be the enemy. The final act in his revenge. A Brightpaw.
But now, she lay in his bed like something broken—fragile, silent, and shaking.
His mate!
The word burned.
Zayn swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He didn’t want this. Didn’t ask for it. And yet, the bond pulled at him—relentless, primal. His wolf wanted her. Needed her.
But Zayn wasn’t a slave to instinct anymore. He’d been one once. Chained. Beaten. Broken.
Never again.
So if the Moon Goddess thought binding him to her would fix what was broken inside him…
She was dead wrong.
He was going to shatter whatever fragile hope Lily Brightpaw carried—just like her family had shattered his world.
Lily was curled up at the edge of the bed like a cornered animal. Her knees tucked tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around her body as if she could somehow disappear.
Her golden eyes, wide and glossy with tears, stared up at him—silently pleading. He hated that look.
He gripped her wrist tightly again.
She didn’t even try to pull away.
Her lips parted, and she mouthed the word again, her silent plea barely forming:
Please.
It didn’t matter.
His hands were rough, tearing at the fabric of her already ruined dress. She flinched, her mind screaming, but her throat made no sound. Her breath hitched.
Her body trembled under his touch out of fear. Pain. A lifetime of both.
She was used to being touched like she didn’t matter. Her brother had done it. Her father had ignored it. Her pack had watched it happen and said nothing.
But this—this was her mate?
He was cruel enough to reject her, and now he wanted to break her.
He cruelly grabbed her right breast. She bit down on her tongue, trying not to react. Blood stained her lips. Her whole body tensed, aching to scream, but her throat stayed silent—just like it always did.
Pain shot through her chest. Then came the shame.
He hated her.
She could see it in his eyes, feel it in every rough touch.
Her lips trembled as she kept pleading silently.
It didn’t matter.
He glared at her like she was dirt beneath his boot.
“Where was your please,” he snapped, “when my people were chained and whipped?”
She wanted to shout that she hadn’t known. That she’d been hidden away. That she was nothing more than a prisoner in her own home. A mistake no one wanted.
But how do you shout when you don’t have a voice?
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said through clenched teeth.
He climbed onto the bed again and yanked her closer. She didn’t fight. Couldn’t.
"You're not the victim here," he growled. "You don’t get to beg."
Her torn dress slipped further as he grabbed it, yanking it down. She gasped and tried to move away, but his grip only tightened. She was still mouthing her pleas, hoping it would still get through to him. But it only annoyed him more.
“When Irene pleaded for mercy, when they tore my pack apart, none of us were even given a chance to beg and plead. They made me watch everything burn to the ground!”
His voice broke at the name. He had to be referring to his fated mate.
Lily’s mouth opened, but no words came. Her tears streamed quietly down her cheeks. She turned her head, body limp, shoulders shaking.
Her silence only seemed to make him angrier.
He leaned over her and squeezed her breast again, harder this time, like he was trying to force a reaction out of her.
She whimpered—barely a sound.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked coldly, “You deserve worse. This is nothing compared to what my pack went through.”
She writhed beneath him, not fighting—just trying to breathe, trying to escape the hell she found herself in.
He hated that. She was so pathetically weak she didn’t even fight him.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t claw or bite. She just lay there, trembling.
Like she was used to it.
Zayn gritted his teeth and flipped her over. He didn’t want to see her face for another second more.
She whimpered as her face hit the sheets. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts. She struggled, knowing the worst was yet to come. But Zayn overpowered her with ease. There was nothing she could do.
Zayn looked down, stunned by what he saw.
Scars.
Dozens of them.
Some were faint and pale, but impossible to miss. Jagged lines down her back, thin lashes along her arms, faded burns on her thighs. They were high enough to be hidden under sleeves, under collars. Placed in spots meant to stay out of sight.
His breath caught in his throat. He shook his head, trying to push his thoughts out of his mind as he unzipped his pants. But his fingers froze.
His wolf surged up, loud and angry.
Why was she scarred like this?
Who hurt her?
They must pay for what they did!
The shift was so sudden, it nearly knocked the air out of him.
Zayn's body stiffened as his wolf pushed forward, furious, restless. Not at her—but at him. At the sight. At the truth.
The beast inside him howled, demanding him to stop, demanding answers. It didn’t want to touch her anymore. It didn’t want revenge.
…It wanted to protect.
Zayn clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to feel this. He didn’t ask to care.
But he couldn’t look away.
He reached out without thinking, fingers brushing lightly over one of the old, raised scars. Lily flinched like she’d been struck. Her body jerked under his touch. Zayn pulled his hand back instantly, shaken.
“What… what the hell is this?” he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice.
He stared down at her. She was still shaking. Crying, silently, into the sheets.
This wasn’t the Alpha’s daughter he thought he was punishing. This was someone who had already been punished—over and over. But by whom?
His wolf paced, snarling furiously.
And for the first time, Zayn didn’t feel in control.
He felt ashamed.
He looked again, slower this time. These weren’t accident scars. These weren’t from fights or training. These were from punishment.
Systematic. Repeated.
Hidden on purpose.
He felt the weight of it suddenly. The silence, the way she never looked anyone in the eye, the way she mouthed words instead of speaking.
His brows drew together.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low.
She didn’t answer.
“Who?” he barked, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Just more tears.
Her body shook with sobs she couldn’t voice. Zayn’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t acting. This was something older and deeper.
The more his wolf wanted to react, the more furious he became. After everything Lily’s father and brother had done to him and his pack, why should he care about what happened to her? Just because she was his rejected second chance mate?
She was the enemy.
Yet here he was, half-undressed, ready to take his revenge but he couldn’t ignore the guilt crawling up his spine. She was already ruined by someone else. How could her father, brother, her own damn pack standby while she was tortured?
Zayn stumbled back.
Lily flinched. Realising Zayn stepped away from her, she quickly grabbed the blanket to cover herself. She looked up at him with doe-like eyes, hoping he would show her mercy.
“Get out,” Zayn said suddenly, voice hoarse.
She didn’t move, worried it was just a trick to mess with her. It had happened before…
“I said get out!” he shouted, grabbing the first thing he could find and throwing it across the room. The vase hit the wall, smashed to pieces upon impact.
She scrambled off the bed, the blanket falling from her body as she moved. She panicked, looking for anything to cover herself. She grabbed the first thing she noticed from the corner of her eye. She put on the shirt and ran out the door, never looking back.