CHAPTER 110: WHEN RESTRAINTS SHATTER

Thorne

The moment I stepped into my room and saw her, I knew this night was going to end badly.

Michelle sat there like she owned the place—back straight, legs crossed, one hand resting lazily on her thigh. She was glaring at me like she’d been waiting hours, her eyes sharp and smug, as if I’d finally wandered into some trap she’d been planning for weeks.

My first thought wasn’t even Why is she here? It was How the hell did Archer miss this?

My wolf growled low, pacing in my head. We didn’t see her coming either, Thorne. You think Archer’s omnipotent?

I ignored him, though the irritation that rolled through me was hot enough to make my shoulders stiffen. I shut the door with a snap. "Get out."

Her painted lips curved into a slow smile. "That’s not much of a welcome."

"It’s the only one you’re getting," I shot back, stepping further in. "Door’s right there. Use it."

But Michelle didn’t move. Her eyes skimmed over me—lingering far too long on my chest, my arms, the bare skin showing where my shirt’s collar hung loose. "I just wanted to see if you’re still... immune."

I frowned. "Immune to what?"

"My charms," she said, voice dripping with that false sweetness she thought men fell for. "You’ve been acting so cold lately, Thorne. Not like you and that little omega are—what?—making out in the halls. Not like you even look at her the way a mate’s supposed to be looked at. So what’s your excuse?"

Her words were deliberately casual, but there was a razor edge under them. And she wasn’t wrong about the assumption people could make.

My wolf’s voice was sharp. If she’s noticed, others have too. They’ll use it.

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Michelle tilted her head.

"Not you," I growled, jaw tight. My focus was already shredding. The last thing I needed was her games.

She rose from the bed with deliberate slowness, crossing the space between us. Her perfume hit me first—heavy, cloying, invasive. The kind that didn’t just cling to clothes but seeped into the air like smoke.

Then she put a hand on my chest.

I caught her wrist instantly, my grip firm. "Don’t touch me."

Her lips curved into something sly. "I like men who are tough." Her free hand brushed my shoulder, nails dragging lightly down my arm. "Tell me about this scar." She reached up and touched the thin mark on my cheek like it was some intimate act. "It’s... attractive."

I shoved her back, harder than I meant to. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

The push didn’t deter her. If anything, her eyes lit with challenge. "You’re acting like you’ve never thought about it."

"I haven’t."

"Liar." She stepped forward again, and this time, she moved faster—pressing herself against me, her hands flat against my chest, sliding lower. I caught them both before she could go further, but she twisted her wrist in my hold and deliberately—shamelessly—guided one of my hands upward.

It was instinct, not desire, that made me flinch, but her intention was clear. She was desperate.

"Stop," I warned, my voice low and dangerous.

"Why?" she breathed. "It’s not like your precious mate’s here to see—"

The door swung open before she could finish.

And my world froze.

Josie stood in the doorway, framed by the hall light. Her eyes were wide, shock etched into every line of her face. The fire that usually burned there wasn’t gone—it was just layered now with something sharper, colder.

I had no idea why she was here. But the way her gaze flicked from Michelle to me told me exactly what she thought she’d walked in on.

Her voice was tight. "So this was why you called me here? To watch you seduce my mate?"

"Josie—" I started, stepping forward.

"Save it." She cut her eyes at me, then locked on Michelle. "What’s your problem? Is it that you can’t stand that no one wants you unless you force yourself on them?"

"Oh, please," Michelle scoffed, her tone dripping with mockery. "I wouldn’t have to force myself if your mate didn’t look like he wanted it."

The growl that tore from my throat was instinctive, but it was drowned in the sound of Josie’s sharp laugh—humorless, biting. "You wish. And for the record, if you think draping yourself over someone makes you desirable, you’re more pathetic than I thought."

"You little—" Michelle took a step forward.

I moved between them instantly, hands out, heat pounding through my chest. "Enough."

But neither of them was listening.

Josie’s voice cut through like a blade. "It’s funny, isn’t it? That you think you’re competition. You’re not even in the same league."

"Competition? Sweetheart, I was here first," Michelle shot back.

Josie’s eyes flashed. "First doesn’t mean best."

The tension in the room was suffocating. My wolf snarled inside me, demanding I put a stop to it, but every word I tried to get out was drowned by theirs.

"Josie—"

Her attention snapped back to me, fury burning through every syllable. "Don’t talk to me."

Then she stepped in and slapped me.

Hard.

The second one tonight. My cheek burned instantly, the sound sharp in the air.

She didn’t wait for me to react—just turned and walked out, her shoulders rigid, each step echoing like a damn hammer in my skull.

The door slammed behind her.

Something in me snapped.

I turned on Michelle. The growl that ripped from my chest was nothing human. "You think this is a game?"

Her smirk faltered. "I—"

I didn’t let her finish. My hand connected with her face, the force sending her sprawling to the floor.

"You—" another hit "—will—" another "—never—" again "—come near me again!"

She screamed, hands coming up to shield herself. "Stop! Thorne, stop! You’re going to kill me!"

I barely heard her over the roar of my own blood in my ears. My wolf had surged forward, his rage pouring through me, every muscle coiled and shaking.

She tried to crawl backward, but I followed, my shadow over her. My fists were clenched so tightly my knuckles ached. The scent of fear was thick in the air, and it only pushed my wolf closer to the surface.

I hit her again. And again. I couldn’t stop—the fury was too deep, too consuming. It wasn’t about Michelle anymore. It was about Josie’s face when she’d seen us. About the slap. About the bond that made every emotion she felt ricochet through me until I was raw.

"Thorne!"

The shout barely pierced the haze.

Hands grabbed my arms, dragging me back. I fought them, snarling, but there were more—two, three guards now, pulling me off her.

"She’s not worth it!" someone barked.

My chest heaved, sweat running down my temples. Michelle was curled on the floor, sobbing, her face a mess of tears and smeared makeup.

"You’re—crazy," she spat, voice shaking. "You’d hit a woman?"

I didn’t answer. I was still fighting the urge to break free and finish what I’d started. My wolf was pacing, furious that they’d stopped us.

But through all of it—through the chaos, the noise—there was only one thought pounding in my skull.

Josie had walked away.

And I’d let her.