Chapter 158: Guilt

Lucius had Willow bent over the edge of his bed, her face pressed into the rumpled sheets as he drove into her from behind with mechanical force.

Two days had passed since she had begun her new role as Ayla’s handmaid, spying on her on Lucius command.

Willow grunted.

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Each thrust from Lucius was precise, calculated, devoid of any tenderness or connection. He gripped her hips so hard, his breath steady and controlled while hers came out in ragged gasps.

"What do you think about her?" he asked between thrusts, his voice as cold as his hips slamming against her ass.

Willow’s fingers clutched at the sheets, her mind struggling to focus through the relentless pounding. "About who?"

Lucius stopped abruptly. His hands left her hips and seized her shoulders, spinning her around with enough force to make her stumble. She found herself facing him, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

"Who else?" he said, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "Ayla, of course. What do you think?"

Willow’s heart hammered against her ribs. The sudden shift from impersonal fucking to this direct confrontation left her reeling.

"She is as you said," Willow managed, her voice unsteady. "I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary that shows she is pretending."

"Really?"

"Yes. You don’t need to worry, Lucius. You will get what you want."

He studied her face for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Then his expression softened slightly. His hand came up to caress her cheek with a gentleness that felt almost foreign after the roughness of moments before.

"I knew I could trust you, Willow," he said quietly. "You are the only reliable person I have right now. Do not disappoint me."

"I won’t."

He smiled, "Turn around."

Willow hesitated. Something in her felt a desperate need for something more than this cold transaction.

She caught his wrist, and he went still, looking down at her hand on his arm with an expression she could not read.

"How about we make love instead?" She stepped into him, pressed the whole length of her body against his, and lifted her mouth to his. "Please, Lucius. Let me..."

She kissed him, her hands slid up his chest and around his neck as she tried to pull him back down to the bed with her.

For one moment she felt him hesitate right before his hands came up and he shoved her.

She stumbled backward, caught the edge of the bed, and went down hard on the mattress.

"I suddenly no longer feel like it." His voice had gone cold. He pulled on his trousers without looking at her. "Get up."

"Lucius, please..."

"Get up, Willow. Now."

Willow rose slowly, reaching for her discarded dress with trembling hands, the shame burning hot in her throat. She could feel his eyes on her, but there was no warmth in his gaze, no acknowledgment of what they had just shared. It was as if she were nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded.

"Make sure to be with her today at all times," Lucius continued, already turning away from her. "Amara is going to be teaching her some things, and I want you to let me know if you notice anything out of the ordinary with both of them."

"Of course," Willow said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took her leave without another word, closing the door behind her.

She walked only a few steps before her legs gave out. She slid down the wall, her back pressed against the stone as the tears she had been holding back finally broke free.

The sobs came in waves, shaking her entire frame. She was tired. So tired of being used, of being nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game. Every time Lucius touched her, it was with the same detached efficiency. There was no affection, no care, only the cold calculation of a man who saw her as useful but ultimately disposable.

And it was Ayla’s fault somehow for being what she was.

Drawing the eye of Lucius, of Ares... now even her own father.

She knew, in the cold honest corner of her mind, that it was not true. Her father had never needed Ayla as an excuse. He had let her mother die to save his own skin.

But it was easier to blame Ayla. It was easier than admitting that it was her own choices that had brought her here, nothing more.

"Are you okay?" A voice startled her.

Willow scrambled to her feet, hastily wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Ayla stood a few feet away, her expression filled with genuine concern.

Willow scoffed internally. The only reason Ayla would look at her with anything resembling concern was because she remembered nothing. The girl had no idea what Willow had done, what she was still doing. She was innocent in the worst possible way.

"I am fine," Willow said, drying her face quickly.

"You don’t look fine."

"I am," Willow insisted, her voice sharp.

Ayla studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay."

Willow turned to leave, desperate to escape this conversation and the weight of Ayla’s concern. She had taken only a few steps when Ayla spoke again.

"You cannot let him treat you like this, okay?"

Willow stopped. She turned back slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you care?"

"You are my handmaid," Ayla said simply. "Of course I care about you."

Willow stared at her, speechless.

"You should hate me." Willow muttered.

Ayla’s eyebrows pulled together.

"Why would I?"

Willow opened her mouth but nothing came out because what could she say?

Because I helped hurt you?Because I wanted you gone?Because I was jealous?

Because I blamed you for everything wrong in my life?

None of it mattered. Ayla did not remember and she did not know.

"I should go" Willow said instead.

Ayla nodded and turned around to knock softly on Lucius’ door.

"Enter" Willow heard from inside.

Ayla turned to her one last time and cast her a small smile.

Willow remained frozen in the corridor long after Ayla stepped inside the room and for the first time in a very long time, Willow felt something other than anger and jealousy toward her.

She felt guilt.