Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Facing the enemy 

Callan stood in front of me, his eyes looking at me with an odd sadness and pain. He had no jacket on. His shirt was half–unbuttoned, and its sleeves were rolled up. The sleekly combed hair he had before was now ruffled. As he stepped toward me, I could smell alcohol in his breath. 

“Why are you with him, Cora?” he asked softly. 

“W–what?” His painful tone caught me off–guard more than his words. “Is it because I have never told you that I’m a Winton?” He stepped closer, his eyes tightly locked on mine. 

“What are you talking about?!” I stepped back, desperately trying to keep my distance. 

He sighed heavily and sat on the bed. “It was my Grandfather‘s idea. He forced me to use my Mother‘s name, scared that I would somehow dishonor the Winton name by involving myself in scandals while away from home. Only the professors knew that my name wasn‘t Garrod.” 

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?” I took another step back and found myself leaning against the wall. 

“I should have told you who I am...” he mumbled. “Would it change anything? You dumped me, remember?” I huffed. He pulled himself back up to his heels and lurched to grab me by my arms. “I had to! Grandpa would have disinherited me if I wanted to marry someone who… who...” 

“Someone like me?” I scoffed. “Someone without money or connections?” 

He lowered his head, stroking down my arms‘ length with his fingers, making me flinch. 

to leave,” I said, his touch nauseating me more by the second.

back to me, Cora,” he whispered. “My family has already met you... We could get

wished he had proposed, but it was long before I realized how abusive this person might be; before he crushed my confidence, making me weak and vulnerable to his venom. He puffed angrily, combing his hair with his fingers. “My brother doesn‘t know you like I do! How long have you known each

not your business. You need to leave,” I squeezed through my

of what Callan was capable of. He had always been unpredictable and cruel, and I could only imagine what could come to his sick head at the moment he was drunk, frustrated, and angry. I was in his

were weaker by

body wrapped in a silk nightgown. “Does he know what you like? Does

folding my arms and rubbing them to get rid of the shivering” Don‘t go there, Callan, please...” “Admit it, you loved the way I fucked you. It did feel good, didn‘t it?” He stepped closer, his lustful gaze examining my every curve. “I don‘t want to remember

embrace as he tried to kiss me,” I‘ll make you remember how good it felt.”

screamed, tilting my head away and trying to slap him, but he

rough as always.” His icy laugh brought back the worst

him. 

myself, but his grip only tightened. A moment later, I found myself withering and helplessly fighting against his strength. “Let go,

to pound even more frantically. The hope that voice gave me woke up every ounce of remaining strength within me. “Aren!” I shouted before Callan clamped my mouth with his hand to silence me. I used a moment of his distraction and stomped on his foot. As he loosened his grip on me, I bit his hand. “Aren! Help!” Aren rattled the door handle violently, but it was locked. Callan smirked mischievously, his cold, predatory eyes locked on me. “You bastard!” I used all of my strength to push him away and rushed to the door to open it. He was faster. He stopped me and violently pushed me onto the

threw himself at

trying to slide between them. Suddenly, the door broke, and Aren barged into the room, his eyes blazing in fury. Callen jumped away from the bed, a wicked grin curving

Faring the party 

Aren‘s hit knocked Callan down to the ground. Callan jumped back to his feet with an enraged growl as he lurched at Aren, trying to rain him down. Aren punched his ribs, and a split second later, threw Callan over his shoulder. I gasped, barely registering his movements. Once Callan hit the floor, Aren started punching him again and again, turning his face into a bloody pulp. As I observed his rage–soaked movements, a stabbing pain pierced my chest. My pain wasn‘t for Callan, but for Aren–I didn‘t want him to dirty his hands because of me. “Stop! You‘re going to kill him!” I