Chapter 15: Gutterbred Pig

Chapter 15: Gutterbred Pig

🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡

A painful current of electricity shot through the stitches again as I leaned in to open my door. I gritted my teeth, fighting the instinct to double over from the agony.

I couldn’t let Caesar see me like this. He would blame himself, like he always did. I closed my eyes, trying to ground myself against the sensation, my hand braced against the doorframe as I waited for the pain to ebb.

I knew skipping my post-donation checkups after giving away my kidney a year ago had been reckless, but I told myself I’d push through—like I always did. I didn’t have the time to rest, nor the money to spend on extra care. My body would adapt to living with one kidney, and I’d be fine. Or so I thought.

I was wrong.

A year later, the pain and discomfort had become unbearable. With the championship around the corner, I needed to be at the top of my game. Instead, the hospital handed me bad—but well-deserved—news. My minor infection had turned into fluid accumulating at the surgery site. Thank God it wasn’t an abscess, but it still hurt like hell. All I needed was for the fluid to be drained, but the antibiotics in my bag were a reminder that the fight wasn’t over.

In a few hours, they’d knock me out like a light.

Caesar was probably asleep. He hadn’t picked up my calls to come get me from the hospital. I figured he was tired.

The faint imprint of the promise ring on my finger eased some of the ache, and I found myself looking forward to an afternoon with him.

I mustered my strength and plastered on a smile that I hoped didn’t look like a grimace, then turned the knob.

My smile faded in an instant, my nose wrinkling as a scent hit me—a smell that made my stomach turn.

Black smoke billowed out of a pot on my stove.

Shit... something was burning.

I dropped my bag and raced for the kitchen.

I quickly turned off the fire, grabbed the pot without thinking, and ran for the sink—which wasn’t far. I sighed deeply, taking in a breath of smoke. Tears pricked my eyes, my throat coated with ash. It was only when I turned on the water for the blackened pot that I realized I had picked it up with my bare hands.

I examined my palms, watching as the red blisters that should have hurt like hell faded... That was odd. First the strange tattoo, then the heightened senses, the glowing crimson eyes, and now this?

If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought I was—

My ears twitched, catching the sound of a voice carrying from my room. If Caesar was awake, how come he didn’t realize something had been burning?

Dread pooled in my gut as I made my way toward the only other room in my apartment.

I found myself creeping, inching closer. I pressed my ear to the door.

"Harder, Caesar," a moan.

My heart was in my throat even before it registered that I knew that voice.

Dread iced over my spine. I turned the doorknob, begging whichever god existed that I was wrong. The promise ring on my finger suddenly seemed to restrict blood flow.

The door creaked open, and my world imploded—my mind going blank, my hand slack on the knob as it slowly swung open completely.

My eyes were glued to the two figures tangled on my bed.

Caesar’s back was to me, muscles tense and flexing with every movement. Straddling him, her head thrown back, hair spilling over my pillow, was Charlotte.

My sister.

The room seemed to tilt around me, the edges blurring. The pounding in my ears drowned out everything but the sound of my own breath—shallow, uneven, ragged.

Caesar froze mid-motion. Maybe he’d felt my stare, or maybe the sudden dead silence behind him was too loud to ignore. Slowly, he turned his head over his shoulder.

When our eyes met and he rolled his eyes—annoyed—something in me cracked. Not a fracture that could be patched, but the kind that splits jagged and utterly permanent.

The first words out of his mouth were bitter and irritated, twisting the dagger between my ribs. "Why are you home so early?" His tone was acidic.

He rose, unashamed, while in my periphery Charlotte scrambled to cover herself.

I didn’t answer his question. I simply stared, words evading me. Who was this stranger? Who was this man?

I turned to leave, but the stitches at my side pulled viciously, a sharp sting burrowing deep into my skin. My breath hitched, and before I could steady myself, a hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.

"Answer my question," Caesar demanded, his voice low and edged with something ugly—something I didn’t recognize. Had this been who he was all along? Had I been so stupid?

I stared at him, the audacity hitting me harder than the pain. "You’re seriously asking me that?" I yanked my hand free with more force than I thought I had, startling him enough to make him take a step back.

"You cheat on me—in my own damn bed with my own sister—and you have the gall to demand answers from me?" My voice rose, the words sharp enough to cut skin. "Let me make this crystal clear for you, Caesar. We are done. After this? You and me are over."

He laughed—a bitter, humorless sound—and shook his head. "You ungrateful bitch. I stood by you when your own fucking family despises you. If you had half a brain, you’d realize no one will ever care for you the way I have."

"I owe you nothing," I snapped, my voice trembling with rage that filled every vein. "And if you want to talk about what you’ve done for me, then give me back my kidney."

The color drained from his face. "What?" He dared to look as if I’d slapped him.

"You heard me." I stepped toward him, glaring even though all I wanted to do was break down. "Give it back. On second thought, don’t. I don’t want it. You’re a pig, and I don’t want that shit back in my body."

The shock in his eyes hardened into something darker. In a blink, he closed the space between us, his hand shooting up to wrap around my throat. My back slammed into the wall, the air in my lungs snatched away as his grip tightened.

Charlotte had the decency to jump off the bed. She ran to us, trying to rip him off me.

"You don’t get to call me disgusting," he hissed, his face inches from mine. I could see the freckles I had once counted not too long ago. "Because deep down, you know your family’s hatred for you is justified."

The words pierced deeper than his grip, but he wasn’t done. I was breathless, but it had nothing to do with his tightening hold on my neck.

"You’re nothing but a living reminder," he said, each word slow, deliberate, poisonous. "A crime with a heartbeat. A reminder of your mother’s assault. That’s all you are. Nothing more—and you still dare to have his face."

His face...

My father’s face...

The borders of my vision darkened until the black swallowed everything.

My father’s face...

The Lycan’s face...

I opened my eyes, sitting up, a migraine lancing through my skull. I gripped my head—and then stopped.

Last I remembered, my bed had the softness of hardened cement... This was not mine.

I rose, springing off the bed, my heart lurching in my chest. I whipped my head around, taking in my bizarre surroundings. Confusion whirled in my already jumbled mind. The hell...

My head snapped up—confusion morphing quickly into utter bewilderment.

Who the hell installs a chandelier in their bedroom in this economy?

I took it all in: the bedding could have been spun from pink-tinted clouds, the queen-sized bed carved with such intricate detail I wouldn’t have been surprised if angels had wept as they crafted it. The same could be said for every other piece of furniture in the room, which was the size of my entire apartment.

Where the hell was I?

I ran up to the window, fought the thick curtains to let me through, and slid open the glass.

Frigid air hit my face like a punch, making me reel back. I tripped over the vengeful curtains and slammed the back of my head against the tiles. I could have sworn my brain self-destructed.

I got up, nursing the swelling as I looked out the window.

Snow...

But it was July.

Then it clicked, more like it all came back like roundhouse kick to my already throbbing head.

My sale. The auction. The portal over the cliff. The new world. My... father.

The pulsing spread to the base of my skull as I gritted my teeth.

The disgusting, gutterbred pig—

Confusion and disorientation were snuffed out in an instant, replaced by vitriol that filled my veins, corroding and coating them with venom. It didn’t rush, no, it fucking stewed. It settled into my bones.

Suddenly, a growl invaded the silence.