Chapter 173

Chapter 173: Chapter 173

Lysander’s pov

I stood frozen in the doorway, watching Drake turn his back on me to walk back toward the bed.

The image of Julian reaching out for him, his long fingers resting against Drake’s spine with that sickening, familiar ease, sent a surge of blinding, white-hot fury straight through my chest.

The horror, the confusion, and the crushing despair that had paralyzed me for hours suddenly burned away, replaced by an explosive, violent wave of sheer indignation.

"No," I choked out, my hands trembling violently at my sides as my hybrid energy flared out of control.

The wooden doorframe beneath my grip groaned under the sudden spike of my magic. Lightbulbs down the dark corridor flickered once, twice, before popping softly in their sockets, plunging the hallway into shadow.

Drake stopped, but he didn’t turn around. He merely tilted his head, his dark silk robe shifting over his broad shoulders.

"No?" Drake echoed smoothly, his low voice cutting through the dim room like a blade. "You say that as if you still have a choice, Lysander."

"I am done with this," I snarled, tears of rage hot and blinding as they spilled over my lashes, cutting clean tracks through the dried salt on my face. I pointed a shaking finger at him, then at Julian, who was watching me with that soft, amused sneer still carved into his pale features.

"I came back here to be honest with you. I walked through the rain to fix what was broken between us. But you... you brought him into our bed. You turned this whole thing into a sick, spiteful game!"

Julian let out a light, melodious laugh, leaning back against the high headboard with an elegant arch of his brow. "You really do dramatic so well, little hybrid. Drake, where on earth did you find this one?"

"Shut your mouth!" I screamed, my voice cracking wildly as my wolf clawed at the back of my ribs, desperate to break free and tear the smug look right off his face.

I took a sharp step back into the hallway, my bare, damp feet gripping the cold floorboards as I pulled the heavy wool sweater tight around my chest.

"I’m leaving," I declared, my voice trembling with an absolute, unyielding finality that surprised even me. "Keep him. Keep this gilded fortress. Keep your lies, Drake. I am walking out those front doors, and I swear to God, you will never see me again."

I turned on my heel, ready to bolt down the dark corridor toward the stairs.

Before I could take a single step, the air in the hallway instantly collapsed.

The ambient temperature plummeted to absolute zero in a split second. A wave of crushing, ancient pureblood aura exploded from the room behind me, hitting my back like a falling mountain. The force of it was so violent, so suffocating, that my lungs locked up entirely, and my knees buckled, sending me crashing hard onto the carpeted floor.

A shadow completely swallowed the dim corridor.

Before I could scramble up, Drake was there.

He moved with that terrifying, unnatural speed that defied human sight, appearing directly in front of me. His broad frame towered over my trembling body on the floor, his face illuminated only by the pale gray storm light filtering through the high corridor windows.

His eyes weren’t just pale, they were burning with a cold, lethal fire that cast dark red reflections across his marble skin.

He leaned down, grabbing the thick collar of my sweater in a single, iron-clad fist, and yanked me up off the floor as if I weighed nothing at all. He slammed my back hard against the wood-paneled wall, the impact taking every last drop of air straight out of my chest.

"Leaving?" Drake rasped.

His voice didn’t boom. It was a dark, terrifying whisper that vibrated straight through the bones of my skull, carrying a weight that made my soul shrivel inside my chest.

"You think you are going to walk out of my home?" Drake continued, his thumb pressing hard against my jawline, forcing my chin up until I was forced to look straight into his glowing, predatory eyes. "To go where, Lysander? Back to the logging road? Back to Darius’s study? Or perhaps you were planning to run straight into the arms of his reanimated monster?"

"Let... go of me..." I choked out, my hands flying up to grip his broad, rock-hard wrist, my fingers digging desperately into his skin, but his grip didn’t budge a fraction of an millimeter.

Drake leaned in closer, his face inches from mine, his fangs catching the dim, bloody glare of his own eyes. A cold, mocking smile twisted the corner of his lips, a terrifying, cruel expression I had never seen on his face before.

"It really is fascinating," Drake purred low in his chest, his breath icy against my wet cheek. "I built you a sanctuary. I gave you my protection, my name, my territory, and my bed. I treated you like something delicate, something to be cherished and kept safe from the blood and horrors of the world."

He paused, his thumb digging deeper into my jaw, leaving a dark, red mark against my pale skin.

"And yet," Drake whispered, his tone dropping into a cruel, condescending sneer, "you continually crawl back to the filth. You run to the men who lock iron around your neck. You run to the dark, broken shadows that bleed you dry. You seem to have a pathetic, undeniable attraction to monsters, Lysander."

"I don’t..." I sobbed, tears spilling hot over his thumb, my chest heaving as panic took over completely. "Drake, please... you don’t understand—"

"I understand entirely," Drake cut me off sharply, his voice dropping into a flat, emotionless register that was ten times worse than his anger. "I suppressed my true nature for you. For months, I forced down the apex predator inside my blood. I kept my fangs back, I kept my coldness locked away, and I played the gentle, devoted husband... only for you to play me for a naive, gullible fool."

"I didn’t play you for a fool," I snapped at him.

He chuckled, "No?" His voice sounded like he didn’t believe me so I tried to explain, pleading with my eyes for him to just forgive me just once.

He loosened his grip on my sweater just enough to let my heels touch the floor, but he didn’t release me. He kept his large, warm hand cupped firmly around the back of my neck, anchoring me flat against the wall, holding me like a prized specimen pinned to a board.

"I loved you, Lysander," Drake said smoothly, his eyes locking onto mine with an absolute, terrifying finality that severed the last thread of hope in my heart. "I truly did. But that fragile, pathetic weakness dies tonight."

"Drake..." I whimpered, a broken, ragged sob tearing from my throat. "Please..."

"You are not leaving this estate," Drake declared, his voice ringing down the empty corridor like a death sentence. "You will never step over those blood wards again. You will not see your mother. You will not see the sky unless I allow it. You are no longer my mate, Lysander. From this second on, you are strictly my prisoner."

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He turned his head toward the dark stairs, his voice cutting through the quiet house like a sharp whip.

"Guards!"

Footsteps immediately thundered up the stone staircase. Two tall vampire officers in crisp black uniforms appeared at the top of the landing, their sharp red eyes instantly locking onto the scene: Drake holding me pinned against the wall, my face pale, wet, and bruised, my hands trembling against his chest.

"My Lord," the lead guard said, bowing his head sharply.

Drake released my neck, stepping back so abruptly my knees gave out, and I slid down the wall, hitting the carpet in a small, shivering heap.

"Take him to the west wing," Drake ordered, his face instantly smoothing back into an unreadable, emotionless mask of marble as he wiped his hand casually on his silk robe. "Lock him in the secure quarters. Strip the room of anything sharp or heavy. Put four men on the door, and double the perimeter patrol."

"Drake, no!" I screamed, scrambling up onto my hands and knees, reaching out toward the hem of his robe as fresh terror seized my lungs. "Drake, don’t do this! Please, listen to me!"

Drake didn’t even look down at me. He turned on his heel, walking back into the warm, candlelit bedroom where Julian was waiting for him, and pulled the oak door shut behind him.

Before I could reach the door, the two guards were on me. Large, cold hands grabbed me under my arms, hauling me brutally to my feet.

I thrashed, kicking and screaming, my energy snapping uselessly against their reinforced pureblood grips as they dragged my sobbing, broken frame down the dark hallway toward the west wing.