Page 97 of The Alpha Under My Bed

The sight of it made my stomach turn.

A perfect mating mark, nestled against the soft curve of her throat, a symbol of possession that belonged to someone else. It was the brand Julian should have placed on Ellie. She should have been the one to wear that mark. She should have been his—theirs.

Instead, she was mine.

Genevieve’s scent spiked—fear. Fresh. Raw. And she didn’t fight it. Didn’t beg. Didn’t try to run. She just trembled.

But I was the one who controlled this.

I took a slow step closer, closing the gap between us, the air thickening with every inch.

She just stood there.

Resigned.

Pathetic.

I reached up, trailing my fingers over Julian’s mark, feeling the way the fresh scar tissue stretched beneath my touch. She flinched. I smiled.

“You think they loved you?” I murmured, watching the way her throat bobbed, the way she refused to answer.

I already knew the truth. No one in Pack Cross had ever wanted her. Not really. She was just convenient. Just another pretty little omega to add to their collection. Just a backup plan.

Her breath hitched. She knew.

“That must suck,” I whispered, brushing my thumb over Julian’s mark one last time.

Then, without warning—I sank my teeth in.

Genevieve screamed.

She finally fought.

Too late.

I tasted Julian’s claim as I ripped it off her fucking throat.

Flesh tore. Blood bloomed.

She choked on it, sobbing, hands flying up to the gaping wound I had left behind.

But I wasn’t looking at her anymore.

I was looking at what I had taken.

The torn, bloody scrap of skin between my fingers.

Julian’s claim. His last mark on this fucking world.

I lifted it, holding it up to the dim light.

Then—I smiled.

Ellie deserved a gift.

Something to prove that no one would ever take what was hers again.

Something to remind her exactly what kind of monster she had bonded.

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