99 Times for Alpha’s Bestie novel Chapter 190

I was still trembling uncontrollably long after Lucien drove away from the parking lot.

Lucien glanced at me several times, finally convinced that something was seriously wrong. He pulled the car over, grabbed a bottle of water, and handed it to me, gently offering me comfort, while combing back my hair with his fingers.

“What’s wrong? You’re not actually jealous of Liam and that woman, are you?”

I took the water, gulping down several mouthfuls before shaking my head.

“It’s not jealousy. That woman bullied me relentlessly for four years in college. Liam knows that, yet he chose to be with her anyway. It’s like he found a new level of betrayal to unlock, just to hurt me.”

I bit my lip again, the metallic taste of blood threatening to surface.

We had broken up, and the bond was completly. Who Liam chose to date was no longer my concern. But the fact that he picked the one person I despised most and flaunted her in front of me as if it were some cruel joke cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

His choices made me question everything: Had all my past sacrifices meant nothing? Why did he understand me so little? Even after he rejected me, he seemed intent on finding my weakest points and tearing them open, eroding whatever goodwill I had left.

—

LUCIEN’S POV

Hearing Claire’s words twisted something painfully inside me. The years she spent in college coincided with my early days as Alpha of the Crown of Thornes pack, a time when I was still grappling with the heavy burden of leadership after my father’s decline. Back then, my hatred for Claire and her mother had been all-consuming. Her struggles at school had never crossed my mind—if anything, I had relished her suffering.

Now, that regret gnawed at me relentlessly. It was why I was determined to win her over, even if it had to be at her slow, cautious pace. But to learn that someone else had been tormenting her all along ignited a fierce protective instinct in me—a primal urge to shield her and destroy anyone who dared to hurt her.

Four years of bullying? And all this time, I had been the one humiliating, taunting, and intimidating her—yet there was someone else doing the same? The realization stabbed sharply at my heart.

I reached over, took her hand in mine, and pulled her close into a comforting embrace. “Enough of this for now,” I said firmly. “Like the fool who brought that b***h back into your life, it’s all behind us. Don’t dwell on it anymore. From now on, I’m the one who’ll protect you.”

My voice was low and steady, resonating just above her head. As I spoke, I guided her hand to rest against my waist.

Claire snapped out of her daze and instinctively tried to pull away, but I held her hand firmly, encouraging it to trace the line along my side.

—

“Um… Lucien, you can just drop me off after the next traffic light. I have a meeting this afternoon,” Claire said, attempting to sound casual, though her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

I responded with a low hum, my voice thickening with a different kind of emotion. Slowly, my hand slipped beneath the hem of her blouse. Before she could react, my fingers deftly began undoing the buttons one by one.

Her breathing hitched—sometimes quick and shallow, other times faint and trembling. I wanted to erase every trace of pain or worry from her mind, and judging by her response, it was working.

“Don’t—1-1,” she began, trying to protest, but the seat silently reclined, and before she could finish, my lips found hers—soft as a whisper, light as a cloud.

I already knew she was helpless against my kisses, and if this was what it took to ease the ache that prick Liam kept inflicting, then I was more than willing to kiss her all day, every day.

Claire closed her eyes fully, unable to speak another word. Neither of us noticed how much time passed until her phone suddenly rang, breaking the spell.

“I—I need to get that,” she stammered, trying to push me away.

But I made no move to stop my exploration. “Answer it,” I murmured, my voice low as it brushed against her skin.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. “No, you—like this—I can’t talk.”

Fumbling awkwardly, she stared at the caller ID: “Mr. White.”

I paused my movements.

Claire took a shaky breath and answered, “Hello, Mr. White.”

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