Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 101

Lyra

The second the cold air hit my face, I lost it.

I didn’t even make it down the steps. I just collapsed onto the front porch like my legs gave out, like my body finally got the memo that my soul had already left the chat. My knees hit the concrete, and I curled in on myself, hugging my arms so tight around my chest you’d think I was trying to hold my heart in place.

And then I started crying.

Not cute crying. Not sniffles or delicate tears or the kind of weeping you do in slow-motion under the rain with dramatic piano music. No. This was the ugly kind.

The loud, snotty, gasping kind. My nose was running. My face was soaked. My eyeliner had given up and was now somewhere halfway down my chin. My chest felt like it was caving in, and my breath kept catching like my lungs were glitching.

And the worst part?

I couldn’t stop talking.

"Fuck," I whispered first, the word dragging out of my mouth like it weighed five tons. "Fuck. Fuck. Oh my God. What the hell was that. What the actual hell did I just do."

I wiped my face, but it didn’t help. My hands were shaking too much to do anything right.

"I kicked him in the balls. I fucking kicked him. Like, actually. Not metaphorically. Like, in front of everyone. And the wedgie? Who the hell gives someone a wedgie in 2025? Am I a cartoon villain? What the fuck is wrong with me?"

More sobs came. I tried to breathe through them, but every inhale made it worse, like oxygen was bullying me.

"I pulled his pants down. Jesus. I pulled his fucking pants down. Like I’m some revenge-obsessed freak who gets off on public humiliation. I’m gonna go viral, aren’t I? Someone’s gonna post it on TikTok with a dumb sound and a million likes and a hashtag like #WedgieWarrior or #HeartbreakHazard and oh my God—"

I stopped. Choked on a sob. Slammed both fists into my thighs.

"Why did it have to be them?" I shouted, to no one, to the sky, to the moon or whatever god was watching. "Why her? Why him? Why the two people I actually gave a fuck about? Like couldn’t it have been a stranger? A one-night mistake? A rumor that wasn’t true? But no. No. It had to be my best fucking friend and the boy I almost gave everything to."

I rocked back and forth like I was five years old again, crying after scraping my knee. But this wasn’t a scrape. This was a full-body amputation of every last bit of trust I had left.

"I loved him," I whispered. "Or I thought I did. I thought he was the one. He was supposed to be the one. But he’s a fucking jerk"

I laughed. It was a broken, wet sound.

"And Tasha. Oh my God, Tasha. My sister. My ride or die. My ’if he breaks your heart, I’ll kill him myself’ friend. She said that to me. She fucking said that. And then what? She turned around and gave him head in a car? In a bedroom? In a broom closet? Did they fuck in our house? Was it on the couch where we watch movies? Was it in my bed?! Oh God.."

I slapped my forehead. "Okay. No. No. Don’t spiral. Too late. Already spiraling. Already going full mental breakdown Barbie."

I sniffed. Rubbed my face again. Smudged makeup just... everywhere. I was a whole disaster movie. Tornado in a dress. Hurricane in heels.

"What if I never trust anyone again?" I asked out loud, voice high and panicked and trembling. "What if this messed me up forever? What if I never believe anyone ever again and I turn into one of those cold, stone-faced girls with no emotions and a black turtleneck who just laughs when men say they love her and then stabs them with her eyes?"

I hiccuped.

"I don’t want to be that girl."

Another wave of sobs hit me.

"I just wanted to feel safe. That’s all I ever fucking wanted. I just wanted to be loved and respected and wanted in a way that didn’t make me feel like my body was a transaction. I didn’t want to be cool or hot or easy. I just wanted someone to see me and say, ’You’re enough even if you never take your clothes off.’"

I wiped my eyes with the back of my trembling hand.

"And instead, I got a boy who called me boring and a best friend who called me dramatic while she had his dick in her mouth."

I choked.

"God. Why do I talk like this."

I started laughing again, but it was the manic kind, like the cry was too deep and too sharp so it turned into a giggle halfway through.

"I’m a mess. I’m a full disaster. I’m going to end up in someone’s group chat as a meme. ’Girl loses it after pulling ex’s pants down.’ I bet someone’s editing it right now with an Afrobeat track in the background. I bet Marcus is still inside trying to fix his underwear."

I paused. The thought of him trying to yank his crusty briefs back into place made me snort through my tears.

And for half a second, I felt okay.

Then the silence hit again. Heavy. Cold. Real.

And I whispered the worst part.

"I still loved tasha even if she hurt me"

I pressed my palms to my face, like I could physically push the thoughts away, but they just kept coming, crashing over me like ocean waves that refused to back off.