Chapter 159
I pull harder at the restraints, each tug sending fresh pain through my wrists, but I don’t care. I’d rather tear my skin open than let this happen.
Bianca’s voice rises, thick with disgust. “And if she resists? You think she’s just going to submit willingly after
everything?” Her words are edged with a warning, as though even she sees the danger in this plan.
“She won’t have a choice,” Rhett replies coldly. “Once she’s marked, her instincts will force her to obey. She won’t even be able to think of defying me. It’s a mercy, really.” He chuckles, a dark, humorless sound that makes my skin crawl. “Better than what she deserves.”
My stomach twists at his words. I’m nothing to him but a tool, a pawn to be controlled and discarded when I’m no longer useful. Rage bubbles up inside me, hot and fierce, cutting through the fog of pain and fear. If I get out of this—when I get out of this–he’s going to regret every word he’s just said.
“And what about me? Huh, you can’t take both of us as Mates!”
I lie still, forcing myself to calm down, to think clearly. If I let the panic take over, I’m done for. I need to find a way out, to buy myself time before Rhett tries to make his twisted plan a reality.
My blood runs cold. Marking? Me? I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry as sand as I remember his intentions of
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kidnapping me.
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And suddenly that calm I thought I could control moments ago turns to panic once again and has me tugging at my restraints, desperation taking over as adrenaline surges through me. The straps bite into my skin, but I barely feel it. All I can focus on is escape.
But the straps hold firm, and exhaustion quickly sets in. I fall back against the table, panting. Tears of frustration prick at
my eyes.
“I have no other choice, Bianca. Do you think I want to be tied to the bitch?” Rhett’s voice cuts through the silence, low and dangerously calm, a quiet fury lurking beneath each word. “It‘ s the only way to secure my claim over the ports and Jefferson’s pack. Once I mark her, there will be no question of my authority within the council–not now that her father’s dead. And her mother…”
My heart sinks at his words, cold fear slamming into me like a physical blow. No. My breath catches, and I can feel my pulse quickening, thundering in my ears. No, please don’t let that be true. The thought that they could both be gone, that I might never see my parents again, claws at me, threatening to drown me in grief. But I force it back, shoving the emotions down with every ounce of will I have left. There will be time to grieve later. If I let myself fall apart now, Rhett will win. And I can’t let that happen.
I cling to that thought, using it to steady myself. My survival- and any chance of stopping him–depends on keeping my mind clear. I don’t have the luxury of breaking down, not here, not now. Instead, I focus on the only thing that matters: escaping. Whatever twisted plan Rhett has concocted, I have
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to stop it. Because one thing is clear–if he succeeds in marking me, everything will change. And not for the better.
Rhett’s words echo in my mind, sinister and sharp. The ports… Jefferson’s pack… I can almost feel the weight of his ambition, cold and calculated like a snake coiling around my throat. His goal isn’t just to control me; it’s about seizing power, consolidating his hold over the council, and taking everything that once belonged to my family. He wants my lineage, my ties to the packs, my birthright–and he’ll do anything to get it, even if it means binding me to him against my will.
The sick realization settles over me, and a fresh wave of nausea rises in my throat. He’s going to force me into this- trap me as his mate, his property. With my father gone and my mother possibly dead, there’s no one left to challenge his claim. He thinks he can take everything from me, turn me into a puppet he can parade in front of the council, a symbol of his new power. He has lost his damn mind if he thinks Soren won‘ t come for me; if not for me, he will for Max. I have to believe
that.
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