“Oh my God, you’re conscious!” Dahlia exclaimed as she swept into the room, her wide eyes already shimmering with ready-made tears. She clasped my hand dramatically, like we were two sisters forever bound by calamity. “Raven, are you in pain? This is all because of me—I’m so, so sorry—”
I didn’t watch her face as a whole. I focused on her lips.
Because I saw it—that flicker, the twitch at the corner of her mouth, that cruel little curl of satisfaction before she rearranged her expression into grief.
“You’re blocking the window,” I murmured flatly, voice thin but sharp. “Hard to fake recovery when you’re standing there, cutting off the light with your cheap performance.”
Her lower lip trembled. Convincing. Almost award-worthy. Then Leander’s phone buzzed. He muttered something, stepping out with a look that promised he’d be back in a minute.
The door shut. Silence.
Dahlia’s mask dropped instantly.
Her spine straightened, her eyes went cold. A different creature stood before me.
“Well, well,” she drawled, brushing imaginary dust off the white sheets near my leg. “You’re still breathing. Pity.”
I said nothing. Just stared.
“I wanted your guts scattered across that floor,” she whispered, venom coating every syllable. “But no—some faceless fool had to haul you out like the pitiful stray you are.”
She leaned down, lips nearly grazing my ear. Her breath scalded. “Leander would’ve left you to the fire. If no one was watching, he wouldn’t have spared you a second glance.”
My body moved before thought caught up. My hand lashed out. The slap cracked through the sterile hospital air like a pistol shot.
She staggered back, clutching her cheek.
And then the door opened.
Leander reappeared, his gaze locking on Dahlia’s trembling face.
“What the hell happened?” he barked, striding over. “Raven, what did you do?”
“She struck me!” Dahlia whimpered, collapsing into his arms like a shattered doll. “I only came to see if she was okay, and she… she attacked me!”
“You’ve gone too far,” Leander snarled at me, fury burning in his voice. “From this moment forward, I am no longer your bodyguard.” His finger stabbed toward me like a blade. “We’re finished.”
Something deep inside me cracked wide open.
“For once,” I rasped, raw and broken, “did you ever truly love me?”
Dahlia sniffled, resting her head against his chest like she had won a prize. “Leander… maybe I should leave. Let you two settle this—”
“No,” he cut her off, tightening his hold on her. “Stay. You need to hear this.”
Then his eyes locked onto me. Unflinching. Cold. Certain.
“I never loved you, Raven. I used you. You were nothing more than a doorway to Dahlia.” He didn’t waver. Not once.
“You were just convenience. A warm body. A pastime. Dahlia is the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
Breathing felt like swallowing acid.
He stepped closer, voice dropping like the edge of a blade.
“If you ever touch her again, if you ever raise a hand to her, it won’t end with a slap. You’ll deal with me.”
And then they walked out—hand in hand, without even a glance over their shoulders.
I sat there, broken open in ways no doctor could ever stitch back together.
---
When I was released from the hospital, I didn’t crawl home to lick my wounds. I went straight to my father’s estate.
The study still reeked of smoke, liquor, and old betrayals. My leg burned beneath the bandage, but I walked as if it didn’t. Pain was better than pity.
At his desk, I pulled open the bottom drawer—the one only gloved hands dared touch. Wrapped in black velvet lay the punishment paddle. Obsidian-stained yew, carved with cruel, jagged ridges. Not ceremonial. Not for show. A family tradition, soaked in discipline.
I rested it across my lap. Waiting.
“Bring him in,” I ordered the butler.
Leander entered like a shadow, shoulders squared, jaw rigid. A soldier awaiting trial. His eyes landed on the paddle, then flicked to me. He didn’t flinch. Just silence.
“You swore an oath,” I said, voice iron. “That ring you still wear around your neck—you made vows with it. You promised to protect me. You don’t get to walk away. Not without blood.”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.
“You shattered it. That means I take tenfold in return.”
I rose, limping but unbothered, circling him like a predator circling prey. “Ten lashes. Or one strike from this.”
The paddle hit the desk with a heavy thud. Final.
Leander’s jaw clenched. “If that’s what it takes to make things right… then do it.”
Those words hurt worse than my wounds.
Because I didn’t want right. I wanted pain.
He shrugged off his coat. Then his shirt. Turned his back without hesitation.
That’s when the doors slammed open.
“Raven, stop!” Dahlia shrieked, her dramatic white dress fluttering behind her like she’d stepped off a stage. “Don’t hurt him! If anyone should suffer, let it be me!”
I didn’t blink. “Get out of my way.”
“No!” she wailed, tears streaking her face with perfect precision. “I won’t let you do this! He’s not the villain—you just don’t understand—”
“Dahlia.” Leander tried to pull her back, his grip firm but gentle.
She clung tighter. “No, I won’t! I won’t let her—”
Something inside me snapped. I raised the paddle. She threw herself in front of him.
The strike cracked through the room.
Her scream was raw. Real. Blood bloomed across her flawless dress, staining it scarlet. She collapsed.
Leander caught her before she hit the floor, trembling as he held her. His fist curled tight, his jaw locked.
She wept against him. He looked at me.
I’d never seen eyes like that.
“I warned you,” I said softly, gripping the paddle firm. “Defiance has consequences.”
His voice shook, quiet but steady. “You’re sick.”
“She stepped between us.”
“She always will,” he said, gathering her carefully, his touch tender even through her pain. “And now you’ve made the mistake of your life.”
He turned for the door, every muscle tight with restraint. Just before leaving, he paused, casting me one last look.
That look wasn’t hatred.
It was a vow.
“I told you there’d be punishment,” Leander said, his voice low and final. “Yours is coming.”
Then they vanished. The doors boomed shut, leaving me alone with the echo.
