Claimed And Marked By Her Stepbrother Mates novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: 87-The Guilt!

Helanie:

The night was so peaceful that the moment I lay down in bed, I fell asleep instantly, as if I’d slipped into a coma. But in the middle of the night, I woke to the sound of someone slamming the balcony door.

Groaning, I sat up and looked toward the balcony. It was Lamar.

He had shut the door after stepping outside to smoke. Through the glass, I could see him pacing back and forth, a cigarette in hand.

He looked restless.

If it had been anyone else, I might have checked on them, but it was Lamar—the guy I hated the most.

So I decided to lie back down.

Closing my eyes, I hoped to fall asleep again. But then I heard the balcony door creak open and footsteps approaching my bed.

My heart skipped a beat as realization struck me.

I bolted upright, my mind racing with fear that he was about to do something awful. But when I looked, there he was, standing at the edge of my bed with his head bowed.

"What are you doing? You freaking scared the life out of me," I hissed under my breath.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, his voice heavy, thick with emotion. Was he... sniffing? Was he crying?

"Okay," I muttered, trying to avoid further confrontation at this ungodly hour.

"I didn’t mean to... I just thought you’d be fine since werewolves heal quickly. I know you don’t have a wolf, but I didn’t realize how slow healing could be without one. I swear I was going to come back for you once the test was over."

He rambled excitedly before pausing, as though he realized how messed up it all sounded.

"That doesn’t make me sound convincing, does it? But that was the plan. I messed up," he admitted, his words faltering.

I frowned, confused about why he was bringing this up again.

"Okay... so what do you want from me now?" I asked, pulling my blanket closer to shield myself from the cold.

"I want you to stop it," he whispered, his tone so low it sent a chill down my spine.

"Stop what?" I murmured, narrowing my eyes at him in confusion.

"Ever since—" he stopped mid-sentence, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. I instinctively leaned back, putting some distance between us. "Ever since I hurt you, you’ve been appearing in my dreams. You chase me, and then... you brutally kill me."

He paused, his voice trembling. "The worst part is—it hurts. Every hit you land on me feels so real. And sometimes, when I’m in a happy dream, you suddenly show up, screaming or crying. I just want it to stop—you need to stop it, please."

He placed his hands near his ear, wincing as he accidentally grazed a burn from his cigarette.

I watched him flinch and then abruptly stand, as though waking from a trance. His gaze flicked from the cigarette in his hand to my face, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he straightened up and bolted toward the door.

I didn’t even get the chance to ask him what he was talking about before he disappeared from the room.

Letting out a shaky breath, I lay back down, unwilling to dwell on what had just happened. Before long, sleep pulled me under again.

Lucy’s alarm woke me the next morning. She had been busy planning everything the night before—our uniforms, shoes, and even our accessories were laid out neatly.

Thankfully, Lamar had gotten ready long before us. Maybe he was trying to avoid any interaction again.

Lucy, ever organized, let me use the bathroom first. She didn’t bother me until I came out, which I appreciated. I didn’t take much time either, though the warm water from the shower was so comforting that I almost stayed longer.

At least our uniforms were cute.

It was a red checkered skirt, white shirt, and then a red coat or sweater with a red tie. The red shoes were so cute.

We stood together in the elevator, the silence thick as I found myself recalling that strange 10th floor.

"Um, I thought the building was fully occupied?" I asked, clearing my throat to start a conversation without directly bringing up the oddity and potentially freaking her out.

"Huh? What do you mean?" she replied, adjusting her hair with a frown. I could tell she wasn’t happy with her new hairstyle.

"The 10th floor," I said, trying to sound casual.

She turned to me with a confused look, as if I’d just told a bad joke.

"What floor?" she asked, her frown deepening.