I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 62: Chapter 62

Lysander’s pov

I stood frozen beside the marble kitchen island, clutching the front of Drake’s white shirt so tightly my bloodless knuckles turned white. My heart hammered against my ribs as the heavy oak door swung open, revealing Gideon standing under the dim hall light.

He stepped over the threshold with that arrogant, dismissive stride he used whenever he walked through the campus quad. He wore a tailored wool coat, his head held high, his jaw set in a rigid line of unearned confidence. He didn’t look at the art on the walls or the floor-to-ceiling windows; his eyes locked directly onto Drake, his lips pulling into a tight, demanding sneer.

"Professor Drake, we need to settle this right now—" Gideon started, taking two sharp, aggressive steps into the foyer.

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because in a terrifying, blurred flash of movement that my human eyes couldn’t track, Drake crossed the vast living room. The air shifted violently, an arctic gale rushing past me as Drake seized Gideon by the throat and slammed his body backward into the concrete wall with the crushing force of a battering ram.

The impact rattled the floorboards beneath my bare feet. Picture frames shuddered on the drywall, and the glass fixture overhead vibrated in its fitting.

A choked, wet gasp tore from Gideon’s throat. His feet dangled two inches off the floor, his arms flying up to claw frantically at the pale, unyielding fist clamped around his windpipe. The tailored coat did nothing to cushion the blow.

The arrogant posture, the puffed-chest swagger, the illusion of authority he had used to terrorize me for months, it all shattered in less than two seconds.

Drake’s arm didn’t shake. He held Gideon pinned against the wall with one hand, his fingers sinking deeper into the boy’s neck until Gideon’s face turned a mottled, dark red.

"You speak when you are spoken to, boy," Drake whispered. The tone was a terrifying rumble that vibrated inside my chest, echoing off the high ceilings. His dark obsidian eyes flared into a bright, luminous crimson that illuminated the shadow-drenched hallway.

"D-Drake—" Gideon wheezed, his heels kicking uselessly against the baseboard. His knuckles turned blue as he beat pathetically against Drake’s forearm, trying to pry away fingers that might as well have been cast in iron. "Wait—p-please—"

Drake’s grip tightened, the crushing pressure forcing a high-pitched, pathetic whimper from Gideon’s lips. Drake turned his head slightly toward me, his crimson gaze locking onto mine across the dark room.

"Watch carefully, Lysander," Drake commanded, his voice dark, smooth, and absolute. "Watch what happens to men who believe they can touch what belongs to me."

Drake didn’t release him gently. With a sudden, fluid wrench of his arm, he shoved Gideon downward, driving him directly toward the dark slate floor.

Gideon’s knees slammed hard against the stone tile with a sickening crack, the impact echoing through the silent penthouse. He collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, gasping for air, coughing violently as he clutched his throat with both hands.

I stood by the island, my breath hitching in my chest, my body trembling as I watched the scene unfold.

Gideon tried to push himself back up, his hands slipping on the slick tile. "I’m—I’m a Thorne," he choked out, his voice cracking as he tried to summon a shred of the authority he had wielded yesterday. "My father will—"

Drake took a single step forward and brought the heavy sole of his leather shoe down onto the center of Gideon’s back, driving him flat against the cold floorboards.

Gideon let out a loud, pathetic sob as the air was stomped straight out of his lungs. He didn’t try to push Drake’s foot off. He didn’t try to fight back. He simply buried his face into the stone, his shoulders shaking as tears spilled from his eyes, cutting clean tracks through the dust on his cheeks. He was sniffling, blubbering like a terrified child who had finally wandered into the dark and realized he was entirely alone.

Disgust bloomed hot and bitter in my chest as I stared at the heap on the floor.

This was the man who had backed me into corners? This was the predator who had paraded around campus acting like he owned every room he stepped into? He couldn’t even take two seconds of real force without breaking into tears. He was a spineless, pathetic coward who only knew how to prey on those weaker than him, completely reduced to a sobbing mess the moment a real monster put him in his place.

Gideon kicked his legs weakly, trying to crawl backward, but Drake’s foot remained firmly planted on his back, pressing him down like an insect pinned to a board. "P-Please!" Gideon cried out, his voice high, sharp, and utterly broken. "Don’t kill me! Please, Drake, don’t kill me!"

My eyes shifted from the sobbing boy on the floor to the tall, dark figure standing over him.

A sudden, dizzying rush of heat flushed through my skin, starting at the back of my neck and pooling low in my stomach.

Drake stood towering and immaculate, his charcoal blazer unruffled, his breathing completely steady as he looked down at Gideon with cold, absolute disgust. He looked like an ancient, lethal knight, a terrifying protector who had stepped between me and my worst nightmare and crushed it without breaking a sweat. The contrast between Gideon’s pathetic blubbering and Drake’s silent, godlike dominance was intoxicating.

My pulse spiked, a strange, dark thrill humming through my veins as I pulled Drake’s oversized shirt tighter around my thighs. I was his property, marked and claimed, but watching him reduce my tormentor to nothing made me feel safer than I had in my entire life.

My knees felt weak, a strange desire washing over me to step closer, to press myself against Drake’s cold side and yield completely to the man who held all the power in the room.

"You came into my domain thinking you possessed leverage," Drake purred, removing his foot from Gideon’s back and taking a slow, deliberate step around his head. "You believed a mortal child could bargain with me for what is mine."

Drake reached down, grabbing Gideon by his hair and yanking his head back. Gideon let out another sharp shriek, his hands flying up to clasp at Drake’s wrist, his bloodshot eyes wide with unadulterated terror as he stared up into Drake’s glowing red eyes.

"Look at him," Drake ordered, twisting Gideon’s head slightly so his tear-stained face was forced to look directly at me standing near the kitchen island. "Look at what you tried to claim."

Gideon sobbed, his mouth working uselessly as he looked at me, taking in Drake’s oversized shirt hanging off my shoulders, the faint bite mark visible on my neck, and the complete lack of fear in my eyes.

"I’m sorry," Gideon wept, his hands trembling violently as Drake let go of his hair, letting his head drop back toward the floor. "Lysander, I’m sorry! Tell him to stop! Please, tell him to stop!"

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t step forward to help him, nor did I ask Drake to go easy on him. I simply stood my ground, clutching the hem of Drake’s shirt, watching my former tormentor squirm on the floor helplessly.

Drake looked up from the broken boy, his crimson eyes locking onto mine across the dark room. A faint, dark smile touched the corners of his thin lips as he read the flushed heat on my face, knowing precisely what seeing him in action had done to me.

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