Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 80

Chapter 80: 80. Duel I

Maisie

Soren didn’t even react. He just laid there and took it with a startled expression, which only made me angrier. I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. I wanted him to feel it. I wanted to cut his heart out and feed it to him.

I was seeing red.

My fist had only just risen to strike him when Quinlan yanked me off Soren successfully.

I couldn’t see or hear anything past the anger and the roaring in my head. The last few months flashed behind my eyes like a broken reel. Every harsh word, every cold shoulder, every humiliation.

The memories dragged down my spine like knives when I twisted and saw Quinlan.

The girls they brought home. The moans that bled through the walls at night. Lana’s hand sliding up Jericho’s thigh. The pool. Tessa pressed against the glass while Mercer fucked her, knowing I could see. The bruises and love bites Soren left on her skin.

They had known. All along, they had known I was theirs. They had known all of it would hurt me, even if I didn’t understand it. And they still chose to hurt me.

I punched Quinlan. The impact jolted up my arm, but I felt nothing. No pain. Only rage.

Someone—Mercer—grabbed my waist from behind, trying to pull me back. I twisted like a feral cat and elbowed him hard in the ribs, snarling.

"Adams, you’ll hurt yourself—"

"Fuck off and die," I spat and kneed him in the groin.

Chaos erupted.

I was moving without thinking, grabbing anything within reach and hurling it. The lamp. Another vase. Glass shattered across the floor and walls. And I was screaming, flinging out words that came from deep inside, it broke my heart. It felt like screaming was the only way to get the ache out. if I didn’t, I would never be fine again.

Nothing would ever be fine again.

I lunged for Soren again, nails raking down his arm. Someone else grabbed my wrist. I spun and slapped them, hard.

Hands were everywhere now, trying to contain me, but I was beyond reason. I kicked, thrashed, and screamed until my throat felt raw.

"I hate you! I hate every one of you!"

And then, the world tilted violently.

One moment I was clawing at someone’s chest, the next I was tackled to the ground.

Dark amber eyes latched onto mine as Jericho’s weight came down on me, heavy, solid, and unrelenting. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand while his body pressed me into the Persian rug.

He was careful, but his body above mine weighed like a ton of bricks, and the distant, rational part of me noted my hand print on his cheek.

"Breathe," he growled against my ear, voice commanding. "Breathe."

I thrashed beneath him, chest heaving, still trying to fight even though I had nothing left.

"I can’t—" I choked out, sobbing. "I can’t breathe—I hate you—I hate—"

"Shh." His forehead pressed against mine, voice rough but steady. "In. Out. Breathe, malyshka. Just breathe."

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