Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 336

Chapter 336: Sofia’s Nightmares

The words tumbled from Sofia’s lips in ragged shards, each syllable tearing from her throat like shrapnel. "But then I started wanting to break up with him." Her voice shattered on the confession, a sob cracking through the words. "This was five months ago—way before you, Peter." Her eyes, wide and drowning, locked onto mine, pleading for belief. "I felt like I was drowning. Like the girl I was... was dissolving."

Her hands flew to her throat, fingers clawing at the delicate skin as if fighting for air. "He was controlling. Cruel." Her breath hitched, a jagged, painful gasp. "I was suffocating in his shadow." Tears carved hot tracks down her cheeks, dropping onto the white tablecloth like dark accusations. "He wanted intimacy... but I refused."

A violent tremor wracked her frame. "He forced me. With his boys watching..." Her voice dropped to a strangled whisper, each word a physical blow. "They tied me down." She gagged slightly, a raw, animal sound of revulsion. "But... when Cecilia walked in."

The motherfucker... He dared!

He dared to rape a girl!

I am going to kill that motherfucker

Sofia’s body seized—a trapped animal reliving the trap. "She threatened to report him. Screamed at them. I ran." Her fingers twisted in Madison’s grip, knuckles bone-white. "Ran and never looked back." She collapsed forward, forehead hitting the table with a dull thud, shoulders shaking with silent, convulsive sobs. "He stole pieces of me, Peter. Pieces I can’t get back."

The world narrowed to a crimson pinpoint. I was frozen in place.

Madison shot up, her chair scraping like a battle cry against the floor. She dropped to her knees beside Sofia, wrapping her arms around Sofia’s heaving shoulders with a ferocity that was both shelter and weapon.

"Shhh, sweetheart. Breathe. Just breathe," she murmured, but her own knuckles were white where they gripped Sofia’s arms, and her eyes—when they flashed to mine—were furnaces of pure, undiluted hatred.

My vision tunneled. The restaurant, the clinking glasses, the muted jazz—all of it dissolved into a low, deafening roar. Jack’s face swam in my mind’s eye. Then his fraternity buddies. Their laughter. The image of Sofia—bound, terrified—flashed bright and violent behind my eyes.

A low growl rumbled in my chest, something primal and utterly inhuman vibrating in my bones. My fists clenched under the table, nails digging into my palms so deep I tasted blood. Control. The word echoed like a prayer. Control. For Sofia. Not vengeance. Not yet.

I leaned forward, my face inches from Sofia’s tear-streaked hair, my voice—when it came—was a wreck of gravel and ice: "You looked back. You ran. You survived. That’s what matters." I placed my hand over hers and Madison’s on her back—a triple anchor in the storm of her past. "He didn’t break you, Sofia. He just carved scars. And scars mean you healed. You won."

Sofia lifted her head, her face a disaster of tears and snot and ruined makeup. But in her eyes, beneath the oceans of pain, something flickered. A tiny, fragile spark flickered to life in the wreckage. A fraction of the girl I’d awakened. "He didn’t win?" she whispered, the thread of hope in her voice thinner than glass.

"No," Madison snarled, the sound like a knife being drawn. "He lost everything the second you walked away." Her fingers gently brushed Sofia’s hair back from her forehead—a tender gesture at odds with the lethal fury radiating from her. "And we’re going to make damn sure he pays the rest of that debt."

The air between us crackled. The weight of Sofia’s horror hung thick and heavy, but beneath it, something new stirred. Resolve. Raw. Brittle. But undeniably there. She was no longer just drowning. She was fighting her way back to the surface. And we were the solid ground she’d been starving for.

Sofia straightened slightly, wiping futilely at the ruin of her makeup.

"This is why I was a virgin," she stated, the words suddenly sharp as shattered glass cutting through the lingering sobs. She met my gaze across the table, a ghost of her old defiance flickering in her tear-swollen eyes—a challenge thrown like a gauntlet. "I bet you... he wouldn’t have taken it with that pathetic thing."

A strangled half-sob, half-laugh escaped Sofia. The sound was brittle, fragile, the laughter of someone teetering on the edge of an abyss. Tears still welled in her eyes, but a flicker of something else sparked there too—wild, desperate relief. She understood. I wasn’t disgusted. I was... furious.

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