Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 190

Lucas' POV

"I'm just cleaning," she replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Finn's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Cleaning? Is that right?" He stepped closer, took off his watch and put it on the table. "So why this fucking place is still a mess?"

As his voice died, he slapped the girl across her cheek. The slap echoed through the room, reverberating in my ears even though I was hidden in the closet. The girl crumpled to the floor, her cheek reddened by Finn's blow. But she didn't cry out, didn't beg for mercy. She simply sat there, her eyes fixed on the ground, as if accepting her fate.

Finn circled around her like a predator stalking its prey. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood of fucking you right now," he sneered. "Think of something to lighten my mood?" His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with sadistic glee.

The girl bit her lips, crawling all the way to the wall and took off a whip hanging on the wall.

My stomach churned as I watched the girl handing the whip to Finn. The servant girl's eyes widened in terror, but she still didn't move, as if she knew resistance was futile. Finn cracked the whip once, twice, the sound slicing through the air like a knife. Each strike landed on her back, tearing through her clothes and flesh alike.

I instinctively wanted to run out of the closet and stop him. But I stayed hidden, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. If I moved, if I made a sound, Finn would know something was wrong. He'd find me, and then he would get suspicious. I had to stay silent, no matter how much it killed me.

The servant girl's back was covered in blood and welts, but she still didn't cry out. Her silence was both admirable and terrifying—a testament to the horrors she'd endured at Finn's hands. He laughed as he continued his brutal assault, his voice echoing with madness.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Finn grew bored. He tossed the whip aside and kicked the girl in the ribs, sending her sprawling across the floor.

The girl's head knocked the leg of a chair and she passed out.

Finn stood there for a moment, his chest heaving with anger. Then, he sat in front of his table, taking out a key from his pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer.

He took out a pile of documents and went through them.

I could see dark clouds gathering on his face.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before slipping out of the closet. The servant girl was lying on the floor just outside the door, her breathing shallow but steady. I knelt beside her, my hands trembling as I gently lifted her into my arms.

As soon as our skin made contact, another surge of pain ripped through my chest. It was worse this time- more intense, more overwhelming. I gritted my teeth, willing myself to ignore it. I had more pressing concerns-the girl needed help.

She was unconscious, her face pale and drawn. There was no time to waste; she needed medical attention immediately. I carefully carried her to Dr. Jafar's office, my mind racing with questions I couldn't answer.

Why did touching her cause this pain?

--

The air inside the clinic reeked of antiseptic and despair. The walls were cold, painted a sterile white that did nothing to mask the shadows lurking in every corner. I carried the girl in my arms, her body limp and fragile, her breath shallow against my chest. Her skin was clammy, and the faint scent of honeysuckle clung to her despite the grime and blood.

Dr. Jafar's office was down a dimly lit corridor, the doors marked with a faint emblem of a serpent coiled around a staff. I knocked once, hard, and pushed the door open without waiting for a response.

The doctor looked up from his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing behind thick spectacles. "Alpha Lucas," he said, his voice laced with surprise. "What brings you here?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I laid the girl gently on the examination table. Her head rolled to the side, her face pale and drawn. Jafar's gaze flicked to her, then back to me, his expression unreadable.

"Do you know who she is?" he asked.

"No. But I know she's someone who needs treatment," I said, my voice low. "Treat her."

Dr. Jafar raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began examining the girl, his movements precise but mechanical. I watched him, my fingers curling into fists. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions.

As the good doctor worked, I slipped my phone out of my pocket. It was a risk, but I couldn't resist the chance to look through the files that Finn was going through in his study. I managed to snapped some pictures of the pages before I left the study. The screen lit up, casting a faint glow in the dim room. I scrolled through the documents, my heart pounding in my chest.

The files were filled with diagrams and notes, some labeled "Enhancement Project." My stomach churned as I read about experiments on werewolves - tests that created and ruined Finn.

Before I could delve deeper, Jafar cleared his throat loudly. I snapped the phone shut and slid it back into my pocket, my cheeks burning with guilt.

"She's still unconcious because of the shock but she's stable," Jafar said, stepping away from the table. "No major injuries, just some superficial cuts and bruises. She'll need rest and proper care for a few days. But I don't think Finn will let her take any rest."

"Who is she?" I asked.

Dr. Jafar met my gaze steadily and asked, "Are you sure that you have never met her before?"