The night air hit me like a physical slap as I wrenched the front door open. The driveway was empty, but his car was still there, a dark, hulking silhouette in the moonlight. He hadn't driven away.
He was still here. Somewhere on the grounds. Hiding from me.
A wave of dizziness forced me to clutch the door frame. The rational part of my mind screamed that I should retreat, that cornering a wounded, volatile predator was the most dangerous game of all.
But the ache in my shoulder, now a throbbing, living thing, and the deeper, more primal ache in my chest, drowned out the warning. He had looked at me with horror. He had seen a part of my truth and had run from it. From me.
I stepped out onto the cool grass, my bare feet sinking into the dew. The sprawling garden was a maze of shadows, the silence broken only by the frantic rhythm of my own heart. My senses, heightened by panic and heat, strained for any sign of him.
Then I saw it.
A faint, orange glow. There, and then gone, from inside the car.
My breath hitched. He was in there. Sitting in the driver's seat of his own car, parked in my driveway, hiding in plain sight. The intimacy of it was staggering. He hadn't fled the property, but he had withdrawn to the one space that was unequivocally his.
Gathering the tattered remains of my courage, I walked toward the vehicle. The grass whispered against my ankles, each step feeling like a mile. As I drew closer, the interior light flicked on, illuminating him for a single, stark moment.
He wasn't looking at me. His head was tilted back against the rest, eyes closed, a forgotten cigarette smoldering between his fingers, its smoke curling against the window. The lines of his face were etched with a torment I had never seen before. He looked… ravaged.
Then, the light went out, plunging him back into shadow.
I stood there, just feet from the car, my hand hovering in the space between us. I could get in. I could confront him. But the barrier of glass felt more impenetrable than any wall. He was right there, but he had never been further away.
"Knox," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn't know if he could hear me, but I had to try.
"You don't get to run from this. You don't get to run from me."
My voice was a whisper, strained with a confusion that cut deeper than anger. I pressed my palm flat against the cool glass, as if I could reach the part of him that had just vanished.
"I don't understand," I breathed, my forehead nearly touching the window. "One second you're there… and then you just… leave? What did I do? What was so wrong that you can't even look at me?"
A hot, helpless tear escaped, tracing a path through the chill on my skin. The silence from the car was a void, swallowing my words whole.
"You promised,"
I reminded the shadowy silhouette, my voice cracking. "You promised I was safe with you. So why does it feel like the most dangerous thing in the world is whatever you saw on my skin? Why are you the one hurting me?"
The window slid down with a quiet hum, shattering the tense silence between us. My eyes widened, my breath catching in my throat.
It was the look on his face that undid me completely. Gone was the cold predator, the arrogant Don. In its place was a raw, stark guilt that carved lines of pain around his eyes. This wasn't him. He never looked at me like that—like he was the one who had caused irreparable harm.
A cold dread, colder than the night air, washed over me. Was it that bad? Was this mark something so horrible it could break Knox Nightwroth?
As if summoned by the thought, a jolt of white-hot pain seared through my shoulder, so sharp and sudden it stole my breath. My hand flew to the spot, fingers pressing into the fabric of my shirt as the agony spider webbed up, clawing its way along my neck until it reached my jaw, locking it tight.
A small, pained whimper escaped me, my eyes still locked on his. The pain was a living thing now, and the only person who seemed to understand it was the one who had just fled from it.
He moved faster than I could process. The car door swung open and his arms were around me, pulling me from the chill of the night into the heated sanctuary of his embrace. The moment my skin touched his, the searing pain in my shoulder and jaw vanished, not like a medicine had taken effect, but as if a switch had been flipped. The relief was so instantaneous it was dizzying.
His heart hammered against my ear, a frantic, unsteady rhythm that betrayed his calm exterior. He cradled the back of my head, his voice a raw, broken whisper against my hair.
"I am sorry, Bella. I-I…" He faltered, a king rendered speechless by his own transgression. He took a shaky breath, the words leaving him in a rush of agonized truth. "I marked you accidentally."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his ultramarine eyes blazing with a terrifying mix of fear and devotion.
"I marked you when we met in the club. That night I chased you… when I had you against the wall. My instincts… I lost control for a second. I didn't mean to… I didn't even know it was possible without a bite."
The world tilted on its axis. The mysterious mark. The pain that only he could soothe. It wasn't a random curse or a product of his pills.
It was a claim. An accidental, primal brand from the very first night he decided I was his to hunt. He had been my anchor because, on a biological level, he was my source. My pain was the distance from my mate. And his guilt was the weight of a bond he never meant to forge.
Horror clawed at my heart, icy and sharp. His confession didn't bring relief; it shattered the very foundation of my world.
I had promised myself. I had made a solemn vow that I would never let an Alpha claim me. I would never be property, never be bound by a force I couldn't control.
But he had. Without a bite. Without my consent. In a single moment of lost control in a dark club, he had branded me as his.
The truth hit me with the force of a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. My eyes widened, staring at him not as my protector, but as something entirely unknown.
"If you marked me without a bite…" I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "You… you aren't an Alpha."
I pulled back from his embrace, the absence of his touch making the truth even more stark and terrifying.
"You're not a normal one. What are you?"