Fated To Three, Betrayed By All… Until She Rose.-Chapter 332: Three years ago.

Leilani.

Have you ever been in a situation where you felt like nothing but filth? Where the mere thought of your own skin disgusted you so much, you wanted to peel it off?

Have you ever tried to scrub yourself clean with scented soaps and very hard sponges only to feel more filthy with each passing second, more than you felt when you first started?

I guess you have not.

Well if you have, then you would definitely understand my plight as I scrubbed my body raw until I developed tiny blisters across my skin. My skin bled too in spots that I had scrubbed too much, I cut myself; And to top it all, the hot water cascaded down my body, doing more damage than good.

But at the moment, did I care?

Of course, I didn’t.

All I cared about was the pressing need to wipe off every trace of Darius’ filthy DNA from my body. All I cared about was cleaning off my skin that still crawled from having him touch me in ways that were too disgusting to describe or think about.

I could still remember the feel of his hands on my skin— warm yet slimy, and could still smell the strong overly expensive perfume on his skin as his hands trailed over my skin, gliding across my body until I was so disgusted, I threw up on myself.

And do you know what makes this memory even worse?

The fact that I was weak. That I was powerless. Too powerless, I couldn’t fight against him. And he knew this.

Goddess, I used to think getting marked by my mates would make me stronger. That it would put me on the same level as Darius... or even on a higher one. But I was wrong.

I was always wrong.

And he always knew this.

—

Two hours earlier...

"Do you know anything about my father?" I hissed through gritted teeth, whilst trying my best but failing miserably to ignore the way Darius pressed his entire body against mine.

My heart pounded in my chest as his long fingers flexed against my skin before coming to wrap themselves around my neck. But he didn’t squeeze tight. Goddess, he didn’t even squeeze at all.

It felt as though this was just a ploy... a way to subtly threaten me. A way to put me in my place without doing so much as lifting a finger. He leaned down to press his lips against my cheek, and hell, as soon as his godforsaken mouth made contact with my skin, I felt like I was about to implode.

Why? Because it was too hot and too disgusting, it made my skin crawl in a way that it never had before.

Trying to push him off, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. He wouldn’t budge.

I closed my eyes again and tried to channel the strength I used to think I have. The strength with which I had used in tossing him and his play toy, Clara, or whatever her name was around. But it wasn’t there.

I felt deserted and stupid.

"Leilani..." his voice was like a caress, rubbing against my skin, so much so that I shrunk into myself.

I winced. "Do you know what happened to my father?"

"He was my father too, so I should know..." he drawled. But I didn’t respond. Heavens, what was I supposed to say to that?

A moment passed and then two, and when it finally dawned on me that he wouldn’t say more until asked, I cleared my throat and asked; "What happened to him?"

He shrugged. "Let’s just say that the almighty Ragnar died like a coward. He died for love, and for some reason, I see him in you... seeing as you would do the same. He was killed by the same people he gave his heart to... werewolves."

I gulped. "I do not understand."

At my words, he glanced down at me, a flicker of something akin to amusement or was that pity fleeting across his features before he brushed a stray strand of hair off my face. Again, I flinched.

He frowned. "Leilani, I wanted to help you so that you do not end up like him... I wanted to be your pillar. Your strength... I wanted to be your hitman and your lover... I wanted my face to be the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning and the last thing you see after a night of wild lovemaking, but—"

"You’re not saying the things I want to hear. How did werewolves kill him?" I snapped, interrupting him, and not missing the way his frown deepened before the lines across his face eased up— only a little.

With his features this soft, it was easy to think that he was a good man. Someone with a kind heart. But I knew better. I could feel what he was and the things he tried so hard to hide; and maybe that was why I was always repelled by his touch.

"What killed my father?!" I asked again, my voice cold. Colder than the ice mountains in Antarctica— mind you, I’ve never been there.

But he didn’t respond to my question. Do you know what he did instead, he leaned down lower and lower and lower until we shared the same breath... and until his cold lips pressed against mine.

I cringed.

"You should ask your mates."

When his voice came this time, it sounded in my head. Like it was my thoughts. Like he was living right inside of me, and that made me feel more exposed than I have ever felt in my life.

"Their father ordered his execution. His sons, your mates, were his hitmen."

Tears streamed down my face before I could understand it. My body thrummed too, not with strength but with disgust.

For a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I couldn’t see or move. His touch and his scent were the only things I could feel or smell.

When I finally came to after being lost in my own bubble for what felt like an eternity, I peeled my eyes open and noticed to my horror that his hands were buried somewhere between my thighs, making their way up and up until he was about to reach me in the place he should never have access to.

My womanhood.

I was clad in tight pants so there was no way he would have really touched me there, but the heat from his fingers were violating enough. And this made me bite down on his lips with so much force, he staggered backwards, groaning as he let go of me .

"Fuck, fuck! What did you do that for?!"

"I should be the one asking you that!" I snarled, and then shaking my head, I drew in a deep breath and hissed; "what happened to my father?!"

Darius flashed me a grin. "Like I said, the triplets did to him what they did to him. I have no idea what it was. All I know is that they killed him."

But I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to. I could never.

"How do I believe a word you say?" I shook my head, voicing my thoughts and he smiled, baring all his teeth at me.

"Oh, you should. And if you do not believe me, go on and ask them what they did to a man named Ragnar three years ago."

Three years ago?

Wait, three years ago?

What the actual hell?