Chapter 5 #2
Shame, guilt, and rage. They twist together inside me until I cannot tell one from the other. I feel like a pawn in a cruel game, tossed back and forth by pride, by bonds, by fate that seems determined to humiliate me.
“Alexa, let it go. This wasn’t his doing. Gabriel set the snare for both of you.” Mythril’s gentle voice echoes inside my mind, soft but steady.
“I don’t know if I can trust him anymore. Or myself. I feel disgusting.” My thoughts tremble, swallowed by quiet sobs.
I clench my fists and press my lips together to keep from screaming. We are still standing in the parking lot of a public restaurant. I refuse to humiliate myself any further. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“Let’s just go home,” I say as I walk toward the parked Rolls Royce.
Harlow hurries ahead and opens the front passenger door for me, the same seat I used earlier. I don’t look at him. I walk past and open the back door instead. I slide inside and shut it firmly behind me.
If he chooses to stand back and shrink into the role of an Omega, then that’s exactly how I will treat him.
The ride home passes in silence. I cry quietly, my elbow braced against the door, my palm covering my mouth to muffle the sound. Every promise about true mates and protection feels hollow now, swallowed by the dark stretch of road ahead.
I’ve never felt this broken. Everything I once believed in feels fragile and foolish. I lie awake the entire night, tears soaking my pillow as questions circle endlessly in my mind with no answers to soothe them.
Is the Moon Goddess playing with my fate? Why do I keep meeting men who disappoint me? Why does Harlow stand frozen behind the shadow of his blood status instead of standing beside me? For Goddess’s sake!
By morning, my eyes are swollen and sore. The servants wake me early to prepare for my next schedule before the wedding ceremony. They glance at the dark circles beneath my eyes with quiet concern. There’s only so much makeup can hide.
I sit in the dining room across from Gabriel. He looks perfectly composed, as if nothing happened. He eats his toast layered with cheese and bacon, a boiled egg resting neatly on his plate. As if last night never existed. He even returned home in a separate car long after I did.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks, glancing at my untouched plate.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply coldly.
“Why not?” His brow furrows.
“Why not?” My voice rises before I can stop it. “You seriously don’t know? I can’t even begin to understand what goes on in that head of yours. Or is your wolf whispering madness again?” Anger bursts through me, sharp and unfiltered.
“What exactly is your problem?” he snaps, slamming his toast onto the plate. “Why are you acting like I wronged you?”
“You set me up!” I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “How can you sit there and eat like everything’s fine?”
He pushes back from his seat as well. Fury flashes across his face. His jaw tightens as he circles the table and steps toward me. When I notice his raised hand, I let out a short, humorless laugh.
“You enjoy putting your hands on me, don’t you? Go on then.”
I lift my chin, exposing my neck in defiance. A brittle laugh slips from my lips. If he wants to use force again, let him. My body heals quickly. Apparently that makes me convenient.
He stops inches away. His sharp gaze locks onto mine. The veins along his neck stand out as he grinds his teeth.
“Why do you keep pushing me like this, Alexa?” he says, voice tight and low with that familiar Montana roughness. “Why can’t you just stand by me like a proper wife?”
“You’re the one who keeps pushing me, Gabriel. And I’m not your wife yet.”
“It’s Alpha Gabriel,” he roars. “Why can’t you accept what you are to me?” he demands, gripping my arms instead of my throat. “We are true mates.”
I stiffen, bracing myself for another outburst. My legs tremble under the weight of his anger, but I refuse to back down.
“I will never forgive you,” I say quietly, my voice stripped of warmth. “I will never forget what you did. And we will never be true mates.”
His hazel eyes gleam as he studies me. Then, he turns his head aside and smiles. The smile grows into a low chuckle.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says. “I’ll make it plain for you and everyone else. You’re mine.”
He releases my arms. His finger lifts to tilt my chin, just as he used to when teasing me long ago.
“You’ll see, dear. No matter how many men claim you, I’ll be the one who marks you as my wife. You belong with me.”
He turns and walks away. I wrap my arms around myself, the lingering ache on my skin still sharp. I watch his back as he strides toward the exit.
Just before stepping out, he pauses with his hand on the door and glances over his shoulder. “One more thing,” he says casually. “Get yourself ready. Alpha Romero and Alpha Alastair are coming by this afternoon.” The door closes behind him.
I remain alone in the dining room, staring at the long table covered with expensive dishes and gold trimmed cutlery. The food looks exquisite. The chairs gleam with polish. Everything screams luxury. Yet all of it feels unbearably heavy, pressing down on me like a gilded cage.