Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 197

Chapter 197: Chapter 197
Damien’s POV

The engine roared to life beneath my hands.

I barely registered the sound. Barely registered anything except the weight in my passenger seat.

Sera.

My mate.

Unconscious. Bleeding. Broken.

*Mine.*

The word screamed through my head. Primal. Possessive. Absolutely fucking devastating.

I pulled out of the warehouse lot with a squeal of tires that probably woke half the neighborhood. Didn’t care. Nothing mattered except getting her somewhere safe.

Somewhere I could protect her.

My eyes kept darting to her face. Every glance was a knife to the chest.

God, what had they done to her?

Her face was destroyed. Swollen beyond recognition. Blood caked in her hair. Her lips split and crusted. The bruises—Jesus Christ, the bruises—covered every visible inch of skin.

This wasn’t from one fight. This was accumulated damage. Days. Weeks. Maybe months of violence written across her body like a horror story.

I’d kill them.

I would hunt down every person who’d hurt her and I would tear them apart with my bare hands. I’d make them scream. Make them beg. Make them understand what it felt like to have everything precious ripped away.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel until the leather groaned. Until my claws started extending. Until the steering wheel itself began to crack under the pressure.

The rage was eating me alive from the inside out.

She’d been here. In this city.

She’d chosen this instead. Chosen to fight in some underground hellhole. Chosen to get beaten bloody by strangers. Chosen violence and suffering over her own family.

Over her children.

Over me.

*Why?*

The question tore through me like claws shredding flesh. Why would she do this? Why would she put herself through this nightmare instead of just… coming back?

Was I really that unbearable? Was our life together so terrible that she preferred getting her face smashed in for money?

I glanced at her again. Her head lolled against the seat. Blood had dried in dark streaks down her face. Her breathing was shallow. Labored. Each exhale made a small sound of pain that drove straight through my chest.

How long?

How long had she been doing this?

The thought made bile rise in my throat. How many times had she stepped into that ring? How many times had she been hit? Hurt? How many times had she nearly died while I sat at home reading bedtime stories to our children?

The fury surged again. Hotter. More violent.

“Why, Sera?” The words came out strangled. Broken. “Why would you do this to yourself? To us? To them?”

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. She was unconscious.

Maybe that was better. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the answer. Maybe I couldn’t handle knowing that she’d actively chosen to stay away.

That she’d looked at our life together and decided it wasn’t worth coming back to.

The GPS directed me toward my penthouse. Home. Where Adrian and Lily were probably already asleep. Where the nanny would be waiting with questions.

Where our children would see their mother like this.

No.

God, no.

I made a sharp turn. The tires squealed. Sera’s body shifted in the seat, slumping forward.

I reached out automatically. Caught her. Steadied her against the seat. My hand on her shoulder felt like touching a live wire.

Every nerve ending in my body screamed at the contact. Three years. Three fucking years since I’d touched her.

And now she felt like a stranger wrapped in familiar skin.

No. Worse than a stranger.

The hotel appeared on my left. One of the luxury ones downtown. The kind with twenty-four-hour concierge service and enough money changing hands to ensure absolute privacy.

Perfect.

I pulled into the underground parking garage. Found a spot near the elevator. Killed the engine.

For a moment, I just sat there. Staring at her. Trying to process that this was real.

That she was real.

The rage exploded through me like a bomb going off.

My fist slammed into the dashboard. Once. Twice. Three times. Plastic cracked. The airbag housing split. Blood smeared across the cream leather.

I didn’t feel it. Didn’t feel anything except this consuming fury that threatened to tear me apart from the inside.

“FUCK!” The word tore out of my throat. Raw. Agonized. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

Sera stirred slightly at the noise. A small sound of distress escaped her lips.

She didn’t wake. Didn’t respond. Just made a small sound of pain that drove straight through my heart.

I got out of the car. Moved around to her side. Opened the door as carefully as if she were made of glass.

She slumped forward. I caught her before she could fall. Lifted her out of the car and into my arms.

Too light. Too fragile. Too breakable.

I cradled her against my chest. Her head fell against my shoulder like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.

My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth grind. Every muscle in my body was wound tight as a spring. Ready to snap. Ready to explode.

The penthouse suite was empty when I kicked the door open. Good. I’d called ahead. Paid triple the normal rate for immediate availability and absolute discretion.

The bed dominated the main room. King-sized. Pristine white sheets. Looked too clean. Too perfect for the broken, bloody woman in my arms.

I carried her over. Set her down as gently as I could manage with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

She didn’t wake. Didn’t even stir. Just lay there like a broken doll.

Like something precious that had been shattered and badly glued back together.

I stood there. Staring down at her. At the woman I’d married. The woman I’d loved more than life itself.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without looking away from her face.

Lucas.

I hit answer. “What?”

“Damien? Jesus Christ, where are you?” Lucas’s voice was frantic. Panicked. “You just disappeared! Security’s going crazy! They think someone kidnapped that fighter! The cops are asking questions! What the hell happened?”

“I found her.”

Silence on the other end. Then: “Found who?”

“Sera.” Her name tasted like blood. Like tears. Like three years of agony crystallized into four letters. “The fighter. That was Sera.”

More silence. Longer this time. Heavy.

“Holy shit,” Lucas finally breathed. “Are you serious? Are you absolutely—”

“Yeah.” My voice cracked. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

“Where are you now?”

“Hotel. Downtown.” I ran my hand through my hair. Realized it was shaking. Realized I was shaking. “I can’t… I can’t bring her home like this. The kids can’t see her like this.”

“Like what? Damien, what’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”

I looked at Sera’s battered face. At the bruises covering every visible inch of skin. At the blood. At the evidence of violence written across her body like accusations.

“No.” The word came out broken. “No, she’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay.”

“Do you need me to come? I can be there in twenty minutes—”

“No.” I forced myself to breathe. To calm down. “No. I need… I need time. To figure this out. To figure out what the fuck is happening. To understand why she…”

“Okay.” Lucas’s voice was careful. Worried. “Should I tell the pack?”

“No. Tell them I’m handling pack business.” I glanced at Sera again. Her face was so swollen. So destroyed. So far from the woman I remembered. “Tell them whatever you want. Just don’t tell them about her.”