REIKA

ELEVEN

ALBAN

I knew it.

I knew what I was doing was wrong and did it anyway. Before I did it, I knew that what I was about to do would be irreversible. That I was going to lose her before I had a chance to have her. I made that choice, thinking I'd be fine with it. I was nineteen, confused and full of hate, consumed by it. Never gave a thought to what would come after. In my mind, I wasn't just immune to her family's lies, I knew I wouldn't have even an ounce of sympathy for her. Who would feel sorry when evil and greed fall victim to their own consequences?

I used her.

Fucked her like the whore I thought she was. Pressed against the dirt on all fours, like a bitch. Hard and deep, wanting to destroy her with every thrust.

Lies.

I knew well how to lie, enough to not be detected by the slight change in my heartbeats. She was so excited she had found her mate, she didn't even sense the sarcasm in my words. One touch of our skin, and she trembled in need, letting me handle her like a puppet.

Trust.

She trusted in me, and that was her downfall. She should have never. I fucking abused her trust, not measuring the consequences. I lured her in, set a trap, and watched her run straight into it with a big, stupid smile on her face. From just a few steps behind, I followed her, masking our scent on the way so no one could track us.

The upper hand.

I was in control. I had to. After a lifetime of hiding in fear, one learns to survive, to be invisible, to disappear without a trace. I knew my way out of there before we even got in. Or so I thought. I was sure it would be easy to leave that moment behind me, that place, and never think about it again. I was dead wrong.

I planned it.

I hid in plain sight. I had been working at her camp for months before she arrived. When she and her brothers passed by the snack table, I made sure to put an aphrodisiac in her drink. Something that would trigger her heat so my revenge could be successful. It worked too fucking well.

I wanted her to feel used and dirty, insignificant. I told myself she was insignificant. Trash, like her family. I held on to that thought and acted on it. Every time my hands moved on her skin, I pretended I was touching something disgusting. As if I was forced to pet a vile animal.

I told myself the electrifying feeling was deceiving. I convinced myself that the warmth of her skin was nauseating, the moisture between her legs, poison.

It was then when I heard the words coming out of her mouth and felt her shaking with desire. She wanted me, but I wasn't going to be fooled. Her body desperately needed to feel mine inside her, and all I could think of was to rip her apart.

Bianco fought me. He wanted to pull me away from her. He didn't want me to hurt our mate.

Control.

I won. I buried my hate in her. Hard and without mercy. Cursed her name, cursed her family, thrusted as hard as I could so I could hurt her. Bianco whimpered, but I didn't listen, I didn't stop. I carry on with my vengeance.

He hasn't talked to me ever since.

The moment those words left my lips, I felt it break. In my chest. The thing I forgot I had. The feeling I never had the luxury of exploring. All of the sudden, I felt it rip. My ribcage burned, and I caught my weight by putting my hands on my knees and leaning forward. It was hard to breathe. If the pain I was going through was unbearable, hers must have been ten times worse.