Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 72.

"Were you with someone?" she narrowed her eyes suddenly, stepping forward like a predator sniffing out a secret. "Why are you—wait, is that my dad’s shirt?"

Boom.

That was it.

Heart officially stopped.

Game over.

Lyra.exe has crashed.

I tried to smile.

It came out like a seizure.

"Oh, I—I spilled something on my top," I croaked. "So he..uh..he gave me this to wear. It’s just a shirt, nothing weird, I was in the laundry room, swear.."

"You didn’t answer your phone."

My hand instinctively gripped the door handle behind me.

Her eyes dropped to my thighs.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Was there cum? Was it on my leg? Could she see it?

Was there a shiny trail down my fucking leg right now?

I squeezed my thighs together like that would hide anything, but the second I did, a warm, wet slide slipped lower and I knew. I knew.

Her eyes squinted.

"Why are you walking like that?" she asked, suddenly suspicious. "You’re limping."

"I’m not limping!"

"Lyra, are you sick or something?"

Bitch I’m full of your dad’s cock.

I shook my head.

Too fast.

"Nope! I’m fine! Just period cramps! You know—feminine pain and agony and all that horror! Definitely not closet sex with your father, ha-ha!"

I didn’t say that last part out loud.

At least I hope I didn’t.

She blinked.

I yanked the door open.

"Gotta go!" I blurted. "Gonna cry into my hot water bottle and bleed to death like a responsible adult woman!"

And I slammed the door shut behind me.

Dead silence.

Then.

"Fucking weirdo," I heard her mutter through the door.

My knees buckled.

I collapsed against the inside of the door, heart pounding like it was trying to jump out of my chest and escape the crime scene.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I almost died.

I almost died.

She looked at my legs.

She saw the shirt.

She smelled the air, probably. Knew something was off. And I was standing there with a raw, leaking cunt full of her dad’s cum like some twisted porn version of "meet the family."

Oh my God.

I was not going to survive this.

There was no way.

My best friend almost saw the proof of what her dad did to me dripping down my thighs, and I still had his shirt on, still had his cum inside me, still couldn’t fucking think straight.

I dropped to my knees on the floor.

Pressed my forehead to the carpet.

Tried to scream into it.

Nothing came out but a choked gasp and a strangled whimper.

Because I wasn’t just ruined — I was wrecked.

Mentally. Emotionally. Vaginally. Spiritually. Every -ly you could think of.

And I had just managed to crawl toward my bed like a war victim when—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No.

No no no.

I froze.

Again.

This time on all fours.

And then I heard her voice.

"Lyra? Hey, have you seen my dad?"

My soul left my fucking body.

She was right outside my door again.

Like Satan herself had respawned.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for him," she said through the door, her voice a little lighter now, but there was a faint twinge of concern. "I hope he’s okay. Cause I went in to get his charger and, like... I saw blood on his bedsheets."

BITCH THAT WAS MY BLOOD YOUR FATHER TOOK MY VIRGINITY.

Okay. I didn’t say that out loud.

I just lay there, face smashed into the carpet, still oozing, heart dead, and somehow my pussy clenched again like it remembered the moment and wanted to applaud.

"Hmm," I said finally, scrambling for sanity. "When I came in last night, I noticed he wasn’t around. So... I don’t know, Tasha. Maybe he went out?"

Please believe me.

Please fuck off.

Please never open this door.

She didn’t leave.

Of course she didn’t leave.

Because she was Tasha. And guess what? She opened the door too.

"Yeah Tasha, I have to tell you something cause I don’t like keeping things" I muttered sharply.

"I didn’t like that you let me leave that party all by myself while fucking six fucking men."

SIX.

FUCKING.

MEN.

"I won’t lie I felt really bad"

"I know, right? Six men"!she whined dramatically. "Like, I wonder how I’m still able to walk and not in a fucking wheelchair."

"Oh my God, is your vagina not hurting?"

"Come on, bitch!" she laughed. "Get over it!! I’ll definitely tell you all about it."

"No. No thank you," I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face. "Hell no. I saw it. I don’t wanna know."

"Oh, dear Lyra," she said in that singsong voice. "What you saw was nothing."

I could hear the smirk in her voice.

But then.

Silence.

Just for a second.

And then.

"Wait..." she said slowly. "Is that a mark?"

My whole body went cold.

She saw it.

My neck.

FUCK.

I slapped a hand to it but it was too late.

She’d already seen the edge of it through the gap in Damon’s shirt. The one I’d buttoned in a panic and missed that one little spot.

She reached forward.

Her fingers were about to touch it.

"Is that like—what even is—"

"Tasha, you’re back."

His voice.

Deep. Cold. Alpha as fuck.

I turned so fast I almost dislocated my neck.

There he was.

At the end of the hall.

Damon.

Shirtless. Hair messy. A fucking bruise on his chest from where I bit him. He was holding his phone in one hand like he’d just stepped out of a goddamn war room.

His eyes flicked straight to me.

Then to Tasha.

Then back to me.

My heart nearly exploded.

He stepped forward.

"You’re in big trouble, young lady."