“Are you serious?” he asks, and the disbelief in his tone stings. “Jaslyn you’re a… you’re a virgin?”

I avert my gaze. I feel myself retreating back behind my walls, locking away the vulnerability, the embarrassment, and replacing it with anger.

This was a mistake.

Chapter 13 - Gray

I thought I’d misheard her. Hell, I hoped I did. But as Jaslyn sits there, watching me with a look of embarrassment and defiance, the words echo in my head like a bomb going off.

She’s a virgin.

The room feels like it’s tilting, and I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. Out of all the things she could’ve said, out of all the ways this conversation could’ve gone, this was nowhere on my list of possibilities.

“You’re serious?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t help it. My brain is still trying to catch up.

Jaslyn crosses her arms and glares at me, her cheeks flaming. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not—” I stop myself because, clearly, that’s the wrong thing to say. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“Why? Because I’m so charming and irresistible?” Her tone drips with sarcasm, but there’s a defensive edge underneath.

“No,” I say carefully, straightening up and close her legs without thinking. “Because I figured… I don’t know, that you’d had a chance. That someone…” I trail off, realizing there’s no way to end that sentence without sounding like an idiot.

“Yeah, well, being a slave doesn’t exactly leave much room for dating. Shocking, I know.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. The heat of embarrassment is gone, replaced by something colder. Darker. “Jaslyn—”

“And before you ask,” she cuts in, her voice hard, “no, Malcolm didn’t—” She pauses, and her expression shifts into something unreadable. “But his son tried.”

The room goes dead silent. For a second, I don’t think I heard her right. But the way her jaw tightens, the way her hands clench into fists at her sides, tells me I did.

“What did you say?” My voice is low, barely more than a growl.

“Wiley,” she says flatly, like the name itself is a curse. “He thought owning me gave him the right to—” She cuts herself off and exhales sharply. “But he didn’t get anywhere. Thankfully, his dad thought I was more valuable intact.”

My vision goes red. “What do you mean, ‘He didn’t get anywhere?’ Did he touch you?”

“Gray, stop.” She holds up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not here. He can’t hurt me.”

“That’s not an answer,” I snap. The rage is building like a storm in my chest, and I have to stop myself from throwing a fist into the wall. “Did. He. Touch. You?”

“Why does it matter? It’s over. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” I growl, pacing away from her. My heart is pounding, and my wolf is snarling just beneath the surface, begging to be let loose. “You’re telling me that bastard, Malcolm’s son, tried to—” I can’t even say it. The words taste like poison in my mouth.

“And he failed. His father stopped him. End of story.”

But it’s not. Not for me.

I turn on my heel and head for the door, rage coursing through me like fire.

“Where are you going?” she demands, her voice rising as I reach for the handle.

“To find them,” I say, my voice cold. “And to make sure they never try anything like that again.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Watch me,” I bark, yanking the door open and storming down the hall. The packhouse feels too small, too suffocating. I need to be out, moving, doing something to expel the fury building in my chest. My wolf is clawing at the surface, demanding action, demanding blood.