Ruthless Possession
Ruthless Possession
-Lyra-
f**k.
I swear to every celestial body up there, I thought that was it.
The end.
The dramatic, gasping, slow–motion fall of Lyra, aged eighteen, freshly mated, still sore from getting ruined by the only man who’s ever made me forget my name–and about to be strangled to death on her own damn floor by a mascara–smeared banshee with abandonment issues.
Honestly? I thought I was going to die.
Not later. Not metaphorically. Not “oh my god, I’m dying” like when Damon’s tongue is inside me and my soul
is slipping out through my moans–I mean real death. No more orgasms. No more eye–rolls. No more “yes,
Daddy” whispered into darkened rooms. Just… gone. A cautionary tale told in hushed whispers around pack
fires.
She was hot. She was stubborn. She got choked out by a crazy ex.
That was almost me.
I swear I even started hearing that stupid, soft piano music they play in sad Omega films. I could feel my
body giving in. My lungs were already on fire. My throat felt like it was closing from the inside out.
My vision was closing in like the edges of the world were being erased. There was nothing but that cloth, my heartbeat pounding in my head like war drums, and her voice behind me screaming like a woman possessed.
“Die, you f*****g b***h!”
That’s what she said.
Like it was her battle cry. Like she was proud of it. Like choking me out on my own f*****g territory was going
to win her something. Newsflash, Camilla–it’s giving desperate, not deadly.
But I’ll give it to her, she had me for a second. My knees buckled. My body spasmed. My mouth was open,
gasping, gagging, but nothing came in. No air. No sound. Just panic. Just rage. Just that feeling of
helplessness slithering up my spine like venom.
But you know what else kicked in?
Instinct.
kind
Not the scared kind. The survival kind. The Omega fire they warned people about but no one really believed
existed. The kind that says not today, b***h. I might be young. I might be half–broken. But I was not going to die on the floor with c*m still leaking out of me and no damn closure.
So I fought.
Hard.
I let my body drop, fast and heavy, deadweight straight to the ground. My back hit her legs. She stumbled slightly but didn’t let go. I clawed at the cloth, dug my nails into whatever I could reach, and twisted my neck
Ruthless Possession
like I was trying to break out of a noose. The world kept spinning. My lungs screamed. But I kept going
My fingers found skin–hers–and I didn’t hesitate. I scratched. I tore into her with everything I had. I didn’t care if I was breaking nails or peeling flesh. I wanted her to feel me fighting.
“You ruined everything!” she shrieked behind me, the words spat through gritted teeth like venom.
I couldn’t answer. I was too busy surviving. Too busy elbowing her stomach and kicking at the floor and silently screaming every curse word I’ve ever heard in my life.
And just when I thought I couldn’t fight anymore.
Just when I felt my body start to slump-
Just when the darkness started blooming at the edge of my vision like black flowers-
I heard him.
Damon.
His voice wasn’t human. It was thunder. It was the sound of a thousand mountains cracking. It was the deep growl of an Alpha whose mate had been touched, whose mate had been hurt, whose mate was gasping for air while someone else dared to exist in the same room.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Three words.
That’s all it took.
Her hands didn’t even tighten. They froze. Her breath hitched. I could feel her body hesitate, the way her muscles trembled like she had just realized she f****d up.
And that was my chance.
I dropped even lower, slammed my elbow back with everything I had left–every ounce of rage, pain, terror, and primal hate–and nailed her in the stomach. Hard. I felt the wind leave her lungs. She made this sick, ugly little wheezing sound, and the cloth finally slipped.
Air rushed in.
I inhaled so hard it hurt. My chest expanded. My ribs screamed. My throat felt like it had been shredded with broken glass. My eyes watered instantly, tears spilling down my cheeks without permission. But I was breathing.
I was alive.
I collapsed–forward, coughing, clutching my neck, my vision swimming. I could taste blood. My pulse was hammering in my ears. My whole body trembled from the inside out.
But I looked up anyway.
My vision was still hazy. My throat was raw. My lungs were dragging in air like I had been drowning and just barely clawed back to the surface. Every breath hurt. Every inch of my body was shaking. I was on the floor- on my knees, my hands braced against the wood, my body coated in sweat and fear and leftover arousal.
And Damon-
Oh my f*****g God.
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Damon wasn’t just moving.
He was unleashing.
The sound he made wasn’t human. It wasn’t even Alpha. It was dark.
His boots cracked against the floor as he crossed the room, every step carrying the kind of fury that made the air itself recoil. His hands were clenched into fists, his back broad and rippling with tension, and when his
eyes locked on Camilla, the world around him changed.
He moved like lightning–fast, brutal, unstoppable.
One second she was backing up, hands trembling, her mouth opening like she was going to say something.
And the next?
His hand was around her neck.
Not gently. Not with warning. Gripped. Possessive. Dominant. Wrathful.
He slammed her into the wall with a crack so loud I jumped. The plaster shattered behind her head. Her legs
left the ground. Her back arched. She gasped as his fingers tightened.
“Damon-” she croaked, barely able to get the word out, her nails digging into his wrist, trying to pull him off.
But he didn’t budge.
He was staring at her like she wasn’t even real. Like she was filth beneath his boot. His breathing was ragged. His pupils had expanded so wide that his eyes looked black. Not dark. Not angry. Black.
And then they changed.
Right in front of me.
The gold of his irises bled outward like ink in water, glowing with heat that wasn’t natural. His teeth–his canines–elongated. His voice when he spoke was layered, like something else was speaking through him. Something furious.
“You touched what’s mine,” he growled, every syllable vibrating through the room like a war drum. “You tried to kill my Luna in my own f*****g house.”
“I–I wasn’t going to kill her!” Camilla gasped, choking on her own words as she clawed at his wrist. “I just–l just wanted to scare her! I just wanted her to leave!”
“Liar,” he snapped, slamming her into the wall again. Harder. The back of her head hit with a thud, and a painting beside them clattered to the floor. “You put a cloth around her neck. You pulled. You watched her fall. That wasn’t fear. That was murder.”
Her eyes widened in panic. Her legs kicked. She struggled against the wall like a ragdoll in the hands of a god. Her mascara was running in thick, ugly trails. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“I–I loved you!” she choked. “I loved you, Damon! You were mine before she came! You were supposed to b
mine!”
His grip tightened.
The veins in his arms were bulging. His claws were slipping out–black, curved, lethal. His shoulders were shifting, bones cracking like something beneath his skin wanted out. His shirt strained at the seams as his
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< Ruthless Possession
muscles flexed under the pressure of transformation.
“You were a contract,” he said, his voice low, guttural, and shaking with restraint. And I broke it the moment I scented her.”
“You’re going to kill me,” Camilla whimpered, eyes glassy now, panic bleeding into desperation.
“No,” Damon hissed, his lips curling back to reveal teeth that weren’t entirely human anymore. “I’m going to remind you. Of who the f**k I am.”
She whimpered.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was still crouched on the floor, one hand on my throat, the other braced against the wall, my eyes locked on the storm of fury that was my mate.
Damon Thornvale. My Alpha. My monster. My mate.
He was transforming. Right in front of her. For me.
His spine cracked once, loud and sharp, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot.
His shoulders widened, muscle stretching, thickening beneath his shirt as his body began the shift. Not all the way–no, not yet–but enough. Enough to show her what she triggered. Enough to show her what she
woke up inside him.
His claws lengthened fully now, black and curved, digging into the soft skin of her neck like they belonged there. Like they were carved to rip through her.
His fangs were out, gleaming, longer than they should’ve been. His chest rose and fell with every breath like it was trying to contain the creature inside him, and failing. His scent filled the room–dominant, dangerous, possessive. It made my knees weak. Made my heart pound. Made my cunt clench.
Camilla was whimpering now. Crying. Her tears were real this time, not staged, not strategic. They streaked down her cheeks in thick, messy trails, mixing with her ruined makeup as she tried to squirm, tried to escape, tried to undo what she’d done with the same manipulative voice she’d always used to get her way.
“Please,” she sobbed, her legs kicking weakly. “Please, Damon, don’t shift. Don’t–don’t kill me. I didn’t mean
to-”
“Shut the f**k up.”
He didn’t yell it.
He whispered it.
Low. Deadly. So quiet it made her flinch harder than any roar ever could.
“You didn’t mean to?” he snarled, leaning in close now, fangs bared, his forehead nearly touching hers as she trembled in his grasp.
“You didn’t mean to choke her? You didn’t mean to stand over her while she clawed at her own throat? You
didn’t mean to try and f*****g end her–in my home, while she was still carrying my c*m inside her?”
I felt my whole body jolt.
Camilla’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.
His eyes weren’t gold anymore. They weren’t even glowing.
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Ruthless Possession
They were black. Bottomless. The kind of black that doesn’t reflect light. The kind that devours it.
He slammed her into the wall again. Her head bounced. A framed photo beside her crashed to the floor and shattered. Her legs dangled, twitching, her heels scraping helplessly against the paint behind her.
“You thought I wouldn’t scent it on her throat?” he growled. “You thought I wouldn’t know?”
“Please,” she choked, her face pale now, her tears soaking his hand, her voice splintering beneath the weight of his fury. “I didn’t know what I was doing, I–I just wanted you to look at me again-”
He let out a low, vicious laugh that didn’t sound human at all.
“I haven’t looked at you since the day I found my mate.”
“Damon,” I croaked from the floor. My voice came out hoarse, cracked, broken. “Please…”
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