Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 198

Chapter 198: Chapter 198
Seraphina’s POV

Pain.

That was the first thing I registered. A dull, throbbing ache that radiated from every part of my body.

My ribs screamed with each shallow breath. My face felt like someone had used it as a punching bag. Which, technically, they had.

I forced my eyes open. Mistake. Bright light stabbed through my skull like knives.

Where the hell was I?

This wasn’t the locker room. Wasn’t my apartment. Definitely wasn’t the warehouse.

I tried to sit up. My body protested violently. Everything hurt. Everything.

But I pushed through it. Gritted my teeth and forced myself upright.

The room swam into focus slowly. Luxury hotel. High ceilings. Expensive furniture. The kind of place that cost more per night than I made in a week.

What the fuck?

My hands flew to my face. Touched carefully. Bandages. Clean ones. Someone had patched me up while I was unconscious.

Rico?

That made sense. He’d probably brought me here after the fight. Made sure I was taken care of.

Except… Rico would never spring for a place this nice. He’d take me to a cheap motel with questionable sheets and working ice machines.

This place had crystal chandeliers.

I looked down at myself. My fighting clothes were gone. I was wearing a soft t-shirt and sweatpants I didn’t recognize. Clean. Expensive fabric.

Someone had changed me.

My stomach dropped.

Someone had undressed me. Cleaned me up. Put me in these clothes while I was completely unconscious and vulnerable.

Panic clawed up my throat.

I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted dangerously. I gripped the mattress until it steadied.

My phone. I needed my phone.

I patted down my pockets. Nothing. Checked the nightstand. Empty except for a fancy lamp and a hotel information booklet.

No phone. No keys. No wallet.

The panic got worse.

I stood up. My legs shook but held. The room was huge. Way too huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A sitting area with a couch that probably cost more than my car. A mini bar stocked with bottles I couldn’t afford even if I won ten fights.

I stumbled toward the windows. Maybe I could figure out where I was. What neighborhood. How to get out.

The view was breathtaking. City lights spread out below like a carpet of stars. But I was too high up. Way too high. This had to be at least the thirtieth floor.

No fire escape. No balcony. No way out except through the door.

I turned toward it. The door looked normal enough. Fancy, like everything else in this place, but just a door.

I crossed the room as quickly as my battered body would allow. Grabbed the handle.

Locked.

I tried again. Pulled harder. Twisted the handle with both hands.

Nothing. The door wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck.” The word came out harsh. Desperate.

I was trapped.

Someone had brought me here. Patched me up. Changed my clothes. And locked me in.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

My mind raced through possibilities. None of them good.

Human traffickers? No, they wouldn’t waste money on a luxury hotel.

Someone who’d bet on me? Maybe. But why lock me in?

A stalker? The thought made my skin crawl.

Or worse. Much worse.

My breathing got faster. Shallower. The room started spinning again.

I backed away from the door. My eyes swept the room for anything I could use as a weapon. A lamp. A chair. Something.

My ribs protested the movement. My vision blurred at the edges.

I needed to get out. Needed to run. That’s what I was good at, right? Running away from problems?

I moved back toward the door. If I couldn’t open it, I’d break it down. I’d survived three years of underground fighting. I could handle one locked door.

I braced myself. Prepared to kick. To use what little strength I had left.

My leg was mid-swing when a voice cut through the silence.

“Going somewhere?”

I froze.

The voice came from the shadows. Deep. Male. Familiar in a way that made my blood turn to ice.

No.

Oh God, no.

I turned slowly. So slowly. A figure stepped out of the darkness near the sitting area. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving with that predatory grace I knew so well.

The light from the windows caught his face.

Silver-blue eyes. Sharp jaw. Dark hair.

He stood there. Watching me. His expression unreadable in the dim light.

“You again want to run away, don’t you?”