Irina’s POV

I couldn’t breathe.

Maxim’s palm pressed harder against my mouth, crushing my lips against my teeth. His other hand—god, his other hand was still between my legs, rubbing, violating.

My legs shook. My vision blurred with tears.

Then everything changed.

A presence. Sharp. Overwhelming. Like lightning about to strike.

Nicolas.

The bond flared white-hot in my chest, screaming at me that he was close. Too close.

No. No, he couldn’t see this. Couldn’t see me like this—

I thrashed harder. Desperate. My body moving on pure instinct.

Maxim’s grip tightened. His breath was hot against my neck, his tongue still lapping at the mark.

"Quiet," he hissed.

I wasn’t quiet.

I kicked. Twisted. Bit down on his palm until I tasted blood.

He cursed but didn’t let go.

Then the door exploded inward.

Wood splintered. The lock tore free with a screech of metal.

The door slammed against the wall so hard the entire room shook.

And there he was.

Nicolas stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light behind him. Tall. Massive. Radiating fury like heat waves off asphalt.

His eyes locked onto us.

They were completely black. Not just the pupils—the entire eye. Like someone had poured ink into his skull.

The temperature plummeted.

I felt it like a physical force. The air itself seemed to recoil from the rage pouring off him in waves.

His lips pulled back. A snarl ripped from his throat—low, guttural, barely human.

Maxim’s hands released me.

Suddenly. Completely.

I didn’t have time to process it.

Nicolas crossed the room in two strides. His hand shot out, fingers locking around Maxim’s throat.

He lifted Maxim off the ground like he weighed nothing.

Then threw him.

Maxim’s body flew across the room. He slammed into the opposite wall with a crack that made me flinch. Plaster crumbled. Dust rained down.

Maxim crumpled to the floor in a heap.

I stood frozen against the wall. My skirt was still pushed up around my waist. My legs—exposed, marked with bruises and that horrible wetness from Maxim’s violation—trembled so hard my knees knocked together.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Could only stare at Nicolas as he turned toward me.

His eyes were still black. His chest heaved with each breath. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready to explode into more violence.

He took a step closer.

I flinched. Hard.

My hands flew up instinctively, covering my face. My body curled inward, trying to make myself smaller.

Waiting for the hit.

It didn’t come.

Instead, his scent washed over me. Pine and smoke and something darker. The mate bond hummed between us, insistent and demanding.

"We’re leaving."

His voice was rough. Barely controlled.

I lowered my hands slowly. Looked up at him.

He wasn’t looking at my face. His eyes had dropped lower—to my exposed legs. To the evidence of what Maxim had done.

Something dangerous flickered across his features. His jaw clenched so hard I heard teeth grinding.

Then his hand shot out.

I jerked backward, slamming my spine against the wall.

But he didn’t hit me.

His fingers closed around my upper arm—firm but not painful. Not squeezing. Just holding.

"Now," he said through clenched teeth. "We’re leaving now. Back to my territory."

My legs wouldn’t cooperate. They felt disconnected from my body. Like someone else’s legs.

He started walking, pulling me with him.

I stumbled. Nearly fell.

His grip tightened just enough to keep me upright. He didn’t slow down. Didn’t look back.

Just hauled me toward the door.

My feet moved mechanically. Left. Right. Left. Right.

No thought behind it. Just muscle memory responding to the pull of his hand on my arm.

Behind us, I heard movement.

A cough. Rough. Wet-sounding.

Maxim.

Nicolas stopped in the doorway. Didn’t turn around.

But his entire body went rigid.

I felt it through his grip on my arm—every muscle locking into place. Vibrating with barely contained violence.

More coughing. Then the scrape of shoes against tile as Maxim pushed himself upright.

When he spoke, his voice was wrecked. Hoarse and damaged.

But still mocking.

Still cruel.

"Is this our alpha king?"

The words echoed in the small room.

Nicolas’s fingers tightened on my arm. Not painful. Just... present. Anchoring.

"So willing to take another man’s scraps?" Maxim continued. I could hear the smile in his voice. "An omega whore who’s already been used up?"

Silence.