54. Sina
I came downstairs alone.
The shower with Kiron had been exactly what I needed before facing Nik.
He’d wanted to come with me, said something about moral support, but I knew my hot-headed biker too well.
If Nik and I started arguing, Kiron wouldn’t handle that calmly, and I couldn’t afford to worry about whether he might lose control.
I needed to do this alone.
Kiron hadn’t liked it, but he respected my wishes. He kissed me gently, like it might be the last time for a while, and I decided in that moment that no matter what happened between me and Nik, I wasn’t fucking leaving this hive.
They were mine.
Me and Nik would deal with each other, one way or another.
I let out a long, steadying breath, squared my shoulders, and rounded the corner toward the kitchen. It smelled like citrus and batter when I stepped inside, the bright morning light pouring through the windows.
Harlow and Rafe sat at the table with plates in front of them, voices low. Nikolai stood at the stove with his back to me.
Of course he didn’t turn around.
My chest tightened.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hello, little vixen.” Harlow greeted.
Rafe’s eyes softened immediately, worry flickering there like he was already bracing himself for this to go badly.
“I need a minute with Nik,” I said. “ Alone .”
Harlow didn’t argue. He just stood, grabbed his plate, and nudged Rafe's chair with a boot. “Come on baby bear. Let mommy and dad sort out their issue,” he muttered.
Rafe hesitated .
His eyes stayed on mine, searching my face like he was trying to read how bad this was about to get.
“I’m okay,” I said, even though my pulse was hammering.
He nodded slowly, like he didn’t fully believe me but respected the choice anyway. As he passed, his fingers brushed my arm.
“I’ll be close by.”
Then they were gone. The kitchen felt too quiet without them. Too open.
Nikolai still hadn’t turned around.
Jerk .
The spatula scraped against the pan in slow, even strokes.
Like he was deliberately avoiding looking at me.
It grated on my frayed nerves. I stood there with my hands clenched at my sides awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to start this without lighting everything on fire.
I stood there until my nerves screamed for me to break the silence.
To shatter the tension that was thick in the air between us.
I opened my mouth to say something but closed it again.
Fuck, I was so bad at this.
And surprisingly, he spoke first.
“You win.”
Two words. That meant nothing. I frowned
“What do you mean, I win ? I haven't even started fighting with you, Nik.”
I rounded the counter and squared my shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “You don’t get to decide this is over before I’ve said what I came down here to say.”
“I heard you upstairs, through the cameras.” His tone was borderline boredom, but I was starting to understand it was mostly just Nik’s default setting .
“So you’re not even going to acknowledge what I said?”
“If you need me present then I’ll provide a more active role.”
“Provide a more active role?” I slammed my hand on the counter. “Are you serious with that bullshit? That’s not good enough!”
Still, the ever-calm alpha stood at the stove, flipping pancakes like this was just another morning.
“Ugh!” I grabbed an orange from the bowl and hurled it at his back. It hit hard and dropped to the floor, rolling out of sight. My breathing went ragged, but the act of violence soothed my rage in a petty, childish way. “You don’t get to disappear for over a week and not explain yourself.”
I threw a banana next, fighting back a hysterical laugh when all he did was sigh, like I was an annoyance. Sue me. I was being annoying. But he was driving me fucking crazy.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t dodge. Didn’t even look down when it landed over his foot.
Something inside me snapped hotter.
“Fight back! Say something, Nikolai. Anything . Don’t just stand there and let me scream at you.”
I sounded like I was begging now, and maybe I was.
I finally had him in front of me, and all I wanted was for him to stop being pristine.
To roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, get messy with me , wrap his arms around me and remind me I mattered.
His golden hair was artfully styled, and I hated that I still wanted to run my hands through it. To ruin it.
He growled my name.
I shivered. “Don’t say my name like that.”
I hated that my body still reacted to him. Even now. Even when I was furious with him .
Nikolai gave me a blank look, bent down, picked up the banana, and set it back in the bowl before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. All while I stood there shaking like a rabid dog.
So I did the mature thing.
I grabbed another orange.
“That calm bullshit you hide behind? I’m sick of it. Stop pretending this control is the real you and get mad. Say something real, Nik.”
I threw it harder. It clipped the back of his shoulder and bounced away.
“You need to calm down,” he said evenly, not even bothering to look at me this time.
“Of course,” I muttered bitterly. “A man telling me to calm down is exactly what I need right now. Because that always works on a woman.” The words dripped with heavy sarcasm.
“Sit. Eat. Then Rafe will escort you to Jack’s.”
I rolled my eyes. I had hours before my shift started. Plenty of time to argue. “Stop telling me what to do and answer the fucking simple question, Nikolai. Why did you choose me if you were just going to vanish? What else aren’t you telling me?”
“That’s two questions,” he pointed out.
“Ugh! You're infuriating!"
“And you're not ready.”
“Ready for what? Stop trying to distract me with food and half assed answers. I won’t let you manipulate me.”
“I haven't manipulated you, Sina. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”
It didn’t matter if he was right. My rage lost its filter.
My gaze dropped to the cutting board. The oranges he’d already sliced.
Neat. Precise. Controlled. Just like him.
If he wouldn’t get messy, I would make him.
I grabbed a handful and flung them at his back.
Juice splattered across his shirt and the floor.
“Sina, you’re acting childish.”
“So fucking what?” My eyes burned. I blinked back tears that threatened to fall. “You did worse! If I’m really supposed to be your blood mate—whatever the hell that actually means—you shouldn’t treat me like this!”
He flinched.
Good. So he did feel something.
I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. I probably looked like a raccoon, but I didn’t care. At least the words blood mate still meant something to him.
“You handed me off to Kiron. You delegated my entire life like a task list. You decided who explained things to me. Who protected me. Instead of doing it yourself. Some alpha you are. ”
Even if I didn't understand what that meant entirely, I knew he did. He cared about being a good leader. But still, the infuriating and sexy alpha didn’t budge. Juice streaked down his shirt, bright orange against the white.
“You don’t get to make decisions and let everyone else clean up the mess,” I said hoarsely.
“ Sina ,” his voice softened.
“No.” I scrubbed my face hard. “Don’t say my name like you care. Admit it. Admit you regret telling me what you are. Admit I was a mistake.”
I stomped my foot.
Okay, maybe he had a point about me acting like a child.
“Say it,” I demanded. I already knew the answer, really. I just needed him to say it out loud. “Stop pretending this is about safety. Admit you don’t want me and I’ll leave it alone. I’ll be happy without you. I’ll move on from you.”
I sucked in a sharp gasp. Fuck .
Why did I just admit I had feelings for him?
Stupid, Sina.
When he didn’t reply, I pulled my knife from my bra. Almost like I was pulling it from my heart that felt crushed under his stupid pompous loafers.
A horrid memory hit immediately. My stomach lurched. I shook my head once, sharply, forcing it back down. Not now.
I wasn’t there.
Keith wasn’t here.
“You don’t get to decide when this conversation is over,” I croaked as I ran my fingertips along the scar on my wrist. I hated how fucking weak I sounded. My gaze fell to the floor, spotting one of the oranges I’d thrown.
“We're done here. Sit .”
I picked it up, tossed it straight up without looking, caught the knife by the handle as it came down, the blade punching clean through the peel.
Juice sprayed my fingers. The motion grounded me.
Focused me. The memory wouldn’t wash away.
The fear twisted into rage, into a need to get even.
I was feeling stabby. But it wasn’t Nik’s face I saw when I sliced through the orange.
It was Keith’s.
My hand trembled around the handle. I shook the orange free and met Nik’s gaze. His jaw was tight.
“If you want to stab me with that, go ahead. I’ll heal,” Nikolai said quietly, just like he had the last time a knife stood between us.
“Maybe I will,” I challenged.
He shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, go ahead. I'll heal. ”
But the truth was, I didn’t want to stab him. I glanced at the counter, but it was bare now. Sticky peels. Pulp. Nothing left to throw. My hands shook, buzzing with nowhere to put the anger.
“No?” I turned the blade toward my wrist. “ Fine .”
For a split second, the room tilted. The memory surged back harder this time—Logan’s cruel face when he let his brother touch me.
The morning after, I found a condom still inside me.
And that same disgusted feeling I had back then was rearing its ugly head.
I’d just wanted to wash it all away. When that didn’t work.
. I shook off the images of the water stained red.
Of my failure to end it all. I clenched my jaw, fighting it, fighting the way my chest tightened.
My hand shook as I pressed the blade against my skin.