The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 345

“Twenty lashes,” he said. “We’ll see if you change your mind then.”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t have to put up with this anymore.”

“Would you rather take it, or would you prefer if that little wolfless whore of yours took it instead?”

The moment he said those words, I felt all the blood drain from my face.

“You wouldn’t lay a finger on her,” I said.

He didn’t budge. “I already said I would. And I’ve been kind in not following through on it. But if you misbehave now, she’ll pay.”

I hated that I believed him.

What happened next was a blur. I felt myself kneel, felt myself pull my shirt off over my head. I ground my knuckles into the carpet as he struck me once, twice, three times. Each lash was slow and deliberate, angled precisely to cut the leather into my skin. The buckle stung, leaving behind deep purple bruises and welts that I knew would take days to heal.

He asked me between lashes.

“Will you marry her?”

“No.”

Another lash. Then another.

“Marry her.”

“No.”

He went beyond twenty. He always did. Thirty, forty… Eventually I lost count, and focused on one thing in my mind. One image to keep me going, to make this all worth it.

I shut my eyes and I didn’t see a belt swinging toward me, but rather Liora’s gentle smile, her head thrown back in laughter. The warm liquid trickling down my arms wasn’t blood, but her sweat. The scent in the air wasn’t of copper, but of her sweet lips.

My mother moved forward. I ignored her and pushed myself to my feet, although my legs barely held me up. “I’m leaving,” I said.

My mother’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but my father grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. “Good.” He snapped his fingers at his guards. “See to it that his key is taken. And call the locksmith; I want every lock in his house changed by morning.”

“No need,” I muttered. I dug into my pocket, pulling out the key, and threw it on the ground. “I wasn’t planning on coming back, anyway. Come morning, your loan shark will probably take it all, anyway.”

With that, I turned, staggering out of the room. I didn’t look back. Not when I heard my mother shouting behind me. Not when a small part of me wondered if this was a mistake.

I just kept walking until the cold air hit my face. Then, I took a few more steps, stumbling against the car with a thud. I ripped the door open with some effort—the blood made my fingers slick—then started the engine and peeled out of the driveway.

I made it a couple of miles down the road before the pain in my back became so great that I had to pull over. A patch of snow was illuminated by the moon, and I climbed out, still shirtless. I flopped down on my back and spread my arms wide, feeling the cold seep into my cuts.

I wasn’t sure how long I laid there exactly. The moon slipped behind a patch of clouds before emerging again, like it was winking at me. The forest on either side of the road was dark and quiet, the trees dark fingers reaching into the night sky. In the distance, an owl hooted.

As I laid there, I couldn’t help but think that despite the pain, for the first time in my entire life, I felt… free.