Page 58 of Protected By the Elf Prince

Pain exploded as my head snapped sideways and the chair nearly tipped. For a moment, all I could hear was ringing while blood filled my mouth.

Turning my face to the side, I spat red onto the floor. “Jesus⁠—”

The man grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me hard upright. “Tell me the truth,” he snarled. His breath smelled like cigarettes. “Or the next one hurts worse.”

“I am,” I whispered.

He dropped my shirt to punch me over and over.

Agony radiated through my jaw, my lip, and my cheek.

My face throbbed.

But he wasn’t listening to me.

He wasn’t hearing me.

I could die here if he didn’t believe me.

I could die and never see Monkey again.

Never see Dashiel.

My heart ached. He’d just received a fated mate, me, and it could be torn from him in moments.

I wouldn’t get to see his smile again, hear his laugh, or watch him while he tried things I suggested, or see the desire and longing in his gaze.

I wanted more time with him.

I want to kiss him again. Hug him. See him naked. Explore new things with him.

My heart ached and gut twisted at the thought of never having the chance to be with him.

I want him.

I wanted to be Dashiel’s and for him to be mine.

He was mine.

And there was a chance I wouldn’t get to see him, tell him, be with him.

More blood filled my mouth as I looked out through swollen, teary eyes. “I’m telling the truth.” The words came out quiet.

The man’s expression darkened. “I don’t believe you.”

“Not my problem” slipped free.

He pulled his arm back to hit me again, until Martin spoke, “Enough, Hawthorne.”

The name hit me like a lightning strike.

Hawthorne.

My brain stumbled, then clicked.

I knew that name.

I’d seen his signatures. He was real and in on this with Martin.