SAMANTHA
"Don’t you ever touch me again."
John’s hand froze mid-air. His face, already twisted with fury, went through a series of transformations—shock, disbelief, and then something darker.
I watched him carefully, my palm still stung from the slap. It had been worth it. I wish Amanda were here for me to slap her too!
"Does she know what she’s just done?" John’s voice was low, dangerous. He stepped closer, backing her against the cold stone wall. His hand pressed near her shoulder—not touching, but close. A threat wrapped in restraint. "How dare you? After everything. Slapping an Alpha? Who would believe we set you up? After all, we thought you were dead. And you have the nerve to strike me?"
I said nothing, my gaze continuing to pierce him.
John leaned in. His breath smelled of wine. Of course he had been drinking! That’s why his pack was a failure. "Are you even okay? You have changed? Yu were never like this. You were soft and sweet. You would have never raised a hand at me."
I felt something rise in my throat. Tears? Amanda or John would not stand the humiliation I had faced these seventy-two hours.
I spat on his face! Damn him! Damn him for trying to make mockery of me.
The saliva landed on his cheek, just below his eye. It slid down slowly and John went completely still.
For a long moment, neither of us breathed. Then he laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle that held no warmth. He raised his hand slowly, deliberately, and wiped the spot clean with the back of his fingers. He looked at the wetness there, then back at me.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting."
He stepped back. The pressure of his presence lifted, but I didn’t relax. She knew John. Kindness was never his weapon. Patience was. And cruelty dressed as calm.
If we weren’t in this pack, he would’ve done something really horrible to me.
He straightened his tunic, adjusted his collar, and smoothed his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was almost pleasant.
"By the look of things, you’re not happy to still have your mother in one piece."
My blood turned to ice. My face stone.
John smiled. "It would be a shame if something happened to her. A fall. An illness. Perhaps just... prolonged torment. The kind that doesn’t leave marks but breaks everything inside." He tilted his head. "You wouldn’t want that, would you?"
My jaw tightened. My nails bit into my palms. But I didn’t give him what he wanted. I didn’t beg. I didn’t cry. I didn’t reveal that the triplets were my mates. I didn’t tell him I was brought here to be a sex slave.
If my mother heard that, she would be shattered beyond comparison. My poor mother. How was she holding?
"One day, John, I will come for my mother. And when I do, you and Amanda will pay for every single thing you’ve done. Every betrayal. Every lie. Every night I spent praying to die."
John’s smile flickered.
"Where is she?" I asked. "Where is Amanda?"
John’s expression shifted. The pleasant mask cracked, and underneath was pure scorn.
"Amanda," he said slowly, savoring the name, "is the new Luna. Your mother answers to her now. The pack answers to her now. Even I answer to her now." He laughed again, shorter this time. "She wears your crown better than you ever could."
Hmmmm...John exp cted me to breakdown and beg him. But I held myself with so much pride.
"You’ve changed," John said, studying her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. "You have this... boldness. This rudeness. The Samantha I knew would have crumbled the moment I mentioned her mother. You would have begged. You would have offered anything."
I lifted my chin. "You caused it."
John’s hand twitched at his side. I saw the impulse—the desire to strike me back, to balance the scales.
"I would have hit you for that," he admitted. "Any other woman, any other place, and you’d be on the floor right now. You don’t speak to an Alpha like that."
"But you can’t."
"You’re right. I can’t hit you." He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can’t hit you because you’re around the triplets now. You think that gives you a free pass. You think their name protects you."
"Try it," I said.
John blinked. "What?"
"I said try it." I leaned forward, my face inches from his. "Hit me. Right now. Go ahead."
John didn’t move.
I continued, my voice dripping with false sweetness. "I’m meeting the king tomorrow. The king of this pack. And if he sees any mark on my body—any bruise, any scratch, any hint that someone touched me—he will ask. And I will tell him the truth. I will tell him it was John, the Alpha of Moon Blaze pack. The small, pathetic pack where it’s alpha is a murderer and womanizer. I will tell him you cornered me in a hallway and raised your hand to me."
I paused, letting it sink in.
"And then your little pack will be destroyed. Not by the triplet, but by the king himself. And Amanda can be Luna of ash and memory."
John’s face went pale, then red. His hands shook. His breath came in short, sharp bursts.
For a terrifying moment, I thought he might actually do it. His fist clenched and his muscles coiled. Then he hissed.
"You think this is over?" he spat. "You think being here protects you? You think the triplets care about you? You’re a toy to them. A plaything. And when they get bored—"
"Leave," I interrupted.
John’s nostrils flared.
"I said leave," I repeated. "Before I decide to add another slap to your collection."
John stared at her for a long, hateful moment. Then he turned on his heel and began to walk away.
"I will come for you," he said quietly. "Not today, not tomorrow. But one day, when you least expect it, I will come for you. And the triplets won’t be there to save you."
John disappeared around the corner.