The Rise Of The Unwanted Girl (Athena) novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Athena couldn’t be bothered to listen to another word. With a sharp snap, she slammed the window shut.

Michael’s brow tightened, and he stepped forward-

Only to see Nicolas striding over, face like thunder. Before he could react, a fist came flying at him.

Caught off guard, Michael turned just in time for the punch to glance off his cheek, sending him stumbling sideways.

What the hell’s your problem?” he growled, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, his expression darkening.

But Nicolas wasn’t done. He grabbed Michael by the collar, his voice low and trembling with fury–the first time in twenty–three years he’d ever truly lost control.

“I trusted you with Athena,” he snarled. “This is how you protect her?

“When she came home, she was distant with everyone. I thought she was just being difficult. But after seeing the bruises all over her today…. I realized what she went through in that camp was inhuman.”

Michael cut in sharply, his voice laced with scorn. “So now you’re playing the righteous brother?”

He shoved Nicolas off and threw a punch of his own in return. “Don’t forget–you were the one who signed off on sending her to the military camp.”

Nicolas froze. His face went pale.

Michael sneered, voice biting. “Feeling guilty now? Where was all this righteous anger back then?”

The fire in Nicolas’s eyes dimmed, snuffed out by the weight of those words.

He had said he’d protect her. He’d promised to keep her safe. But in the end, he’d failed her completely. If Athena resented him now, he couldn’t blame her.

His fists slowly unclenched. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, heavy with guilt, “Yes, I gave my approval. But I agreed so she could learn discipline—not so she could be beaten and humiliated.

“Her body is covered in wounds. Are you saying you didn’t know… or just didn’t care?”

Michael pressed his fingers to the corner of his mouth, where fresh blood still lingered.

He spat onto the ground and frowned, the first hint of hesitation in his expression. “She’s that badly h

“She is,” Nicolas said coldly.

The fight had burned off some of their anger, leaving only grim clarity behind. They’d known each other since they were boys–getting into scraps wasn’t new. But this time, it felt different.

Michael didn’t take the blow to heart. He knew Nicolas had always cared deeply for Athena, even if he rarely showed it in words.

What he didn’t understand was this: the camp had been under his command. If someone had dared lay a hand on Athena, how had it gone so far?

Maybe Nicolas was just being overly protective. He’d always panicked whenever she scraped a knee, let alone bruised a rib. He thought, ‘She’s been doing hard labor–isn’t it normal to pick up a few injuries?‘

Michael didn’t say a word for a long time.

Finally, Nicolas broke the silence, voice tight with suppressed fury. “You’d better take a good look at the people under your command.

“Athena might’ve gone to the camp carrying blame, but she’s still the lady of the duke’s estate. And they dared lay hands on her like that—right under your nose?

“Doesn’t that strike you as strange? You’ve always been strict and precise with your men. This kind of negligence isn’t like you.”

Michael gave a small nod, a flicker of doubt beginning to show. “You’ve seen her injuries?”

“Whip marks. Burns. Scars–so many I lost count. And they didn’t happen in a day or two.”

With that, Nicolas flung his sleeve and turned to leave. Just before stepping away, he threw out a cold warning. “You’d better give me an explanation.

Or this won’t be over.”

1/2

12:14 PM

Chapter 8

“That’s impossible,” Michael muttered to himself.

But Nicolas didn’t look like he was lying.

A hundred thoughts flashed through his mind, but none clear enough to hold on to.

Without another word, he turned and stormed toward Athena’s courtyard. He shoved past the startled servants without a second giance.

He pushed open the doors and walked straight up to Athena, who froze at the sudden intrusion. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm and pulled up her sleeve. And froze.

What he saw took the breath from his lungs.

Dark bruises, layered and sprawling. Cuts from blades. Burns. Old scars overlaid with fresh wounds. A map of pain etched into her skin.

His pupils constricted. His voice trembled. “How… how did it come to this?”

He had no idea–no idea it was this bad.

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