Chapter 7
-Alex’s POV-
Amaya Stone.
The name was like a brand scorched onto my brain, refusing to fade ever since she walked into my life. My wolf recognized her instantly, that primal bond screaming mate. But it wasn’t just the connection that drew me in. It was the fire in her eyes- a raw, burning intensity that mirrored the flames in my own soul. I loved that fire, cherished it with every fiber of my being. Amaya was the one person I would have walked through hell for, the only one I ever trusted with that piece of myself.
And then, like everyone else, she betrayed me.
My fingers clenched around the whiskey glass, the icy liquid numbing but not erasing the bitter taste of her betrayal even after four years. Miranda’s soft voice broke the silence, her presence unwelcome in my study at that moment…
“Stillbrooding, Alex?” Her eyes, sparkling, held a playful glint, but I saw right through it. This wasn’t about concern, it was about control. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that wedding? Honestly, if anyone should be upset, it’s me.”
Her brother, Ivan, had married Amaya as his mate. A cold fury erupted within me, my wolf straining against the leash, But I held him back, unwilling to give Miranda the satisfaction of seeing my pain..
“It’s not the wedding.” I growled, my voice raw.
v. “It’s the accusation. Planting a bomb? Leaving my y mark on it? I’m not an idiot, Miranda.”
She perched on the edge of my desk, her smile laced with disdain. “Just ignore it, darling. This whole mess the families Ivan could have gotten tangled with, why them?”
with the Stones? Beneath you. Besides, of all
There was a time when Miranda had fascinated me. I would admit her, having her in my bed was the main goal, one I had managed to accomplish the same night, unfortunately, two months later, she returned announcing she was pregnant.
I thought it was rather ironic when she “lost” the baby a week after I agreed to get married. I knew exactly what had happened. My billions weren’t made by me being an idiot, however I decided to go on with the wedding, after all, she did make head turn and when she wasn’t irritating my wolf, her antics filled a tiny piece of my empty heart.
The facade was easy enough to put up in public. We looked perfect. The perfect fit. I looked at her eyes. They always sparkled with mischief, like she knew something I didn’t, sometimes I found it intriguing, most times it irritated me like right now.
She had been talking but I only managed to catch the last part, “The wife is as plain as they come. I would have mistaken her for a robot. So glad I didn’t have to sit through staring at her boring face at that wedding.”
My wolf snarled, the lie burning in my throat. Amaya wasn’t plain. The first time I saw her, she’d walked into that smoky bar like a siren, hair the color of burnished copper cascading down her back, eyes like liquid emerald fire. A body carved like it was made to make men sin. Every head had turned, every breath hitched. She was unforgettable, intoxicating.
But for Miranda, it was all lost on her. She only saw what she wanted to see – a threat, a rival in in whatever twisted game she thought she was going to
win.
I pushed the glass away, “Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her.”
Why had I said that?
The smirk on Miranda’s face vanished like a light switch tripped. In its place, a cold glint sparked in her eyes, “Oh, honey,” she drawled, voice dripping with venom, “you underestimate me. Women like Amaya? I practically wrote the book on them. And guess what? I think it’s high time she gets properly acquainted with her sister-in-law.”
Chapter 7
My gut clenched. It was bait, and I’d swallowed it whole the first time. Now, silence sat heavy between us, a silent acknowledgment of my defeat Miranda, sensing my hesitation, leaned in like a viper waiting to strike. “See you soon, darling,” she purred, her hips swaying hypnotically as she sashayed away.
The urge to grab her, pin her against the wall and f**k the smugness out of her, was almost overwhelming. But my anger was a tangled mess with frustration. Alcohol would solve it, but this whiskey wasn’t going to do.. I needed a different kind of oblivion.
“Big Shot” it was, then. This newly opened nightclub was a playground for the city’s high-fliers, the werewolf elite. Loud bass thrummed in my chest as walked in, the scent of sweat and expensive perfume thick in the air. Perfect. For tonight, I needed anonymity amongst predators.
My wolf stirred, restless, as I scanned the dance floor. He scented her first, a primal recognition pulling me towards her like a magnet. There she was, Amaya, her back arched to the music, commanding the room even in a crowd of twenty, Hungry eyes followed her every move, each of them I was sure had the same thought as me.
Her back went rigid suddenly as she slowly turned in my direction. Our eyes clashed across the room and it felt like everything was sucked out of me.
Then, it happened in a blur. A shout and Amaya crumpled to the ground as a man struck her down. A fight had started somewhere on the periphery, neither of us noticing. Amaya, caught in the crossfire, paid the price.
My world went red. Every rational thought fled, replaced by a white-hot fury. Before I could even think, I was on top of the offender, hands locked around his throat. He looked like a rich frat boy gone feral, fear dawning on his face as he realized who he’d just punched.
“You don’t touch what’s mine,” I snarled, voice raw with barely contained rage. The wolf, unleashed, pulsed beneath my skin. It wasn’t just Amaya; it was everything that night represented – Miranda’s taunts, my helplessness, the simmering anger just waiting to spill over,
The room held its breath. The music seemed to shrink away, leaving only the echo of my words and the ragged gasps of the man in my grip.
“…I didn’t mean to hit her,” he stuttered, tears welling up in his eyes.
My grip tightened. My wolf wanted his blood.
“Alex!” a familiar voice called out. I looked up to see Natalia holding Amaya, her face etched with concern. “Please, Alex, let him go. Everyone’s staring.”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to back down. This wasn’t the time or place. “If you ever step foot in this club again,” I growled, shoving him away, “you’ll regret it.”
I turned to Amaya, unconscious in Natalia’s arms. For the first time in four years, my wolf felt at peace. Gently, I lifted her into my arms and walked out of the club, ignoring the curious stares that followed me.
The cool night air hit me like a slap. I needed to get Amaya somewhere safe, somewhere away from the prying eyes of the city. I was grateful for the club’s exclusivity because the last thing I wanted was “Alex Thorne, the city’s most beloved billionaire, making headlines for beating up a college student or Maya’s name become entangled in it.”
“I will have my
driver take her back to her-”
“No,” Natalia interrupted me, “She is going to my house. We can deal with Daniel Stone’s Lantrum in the morning”
Amaya moaned softly in my arms. I looked down at her, her face pale in the moonlight, and a strange sense of protectiveness washed over me and in as much as my wolf wanted it, knew I had to kill whatever emotions were resurfacing.
“She’ll be fine,” Natalia said reassuringly. “Just a concussion, maybe a broken nose.”
I had met Natalia the same night as Amaya and she was actually among the few people I actually liked. Secretly I had even loved her Natalia rant as she called it but that was a thing of the past.
The hurt came crawling back and my jaw clenched, the hurt from earlier bubbling back I don’t care what happens to her,” I spal, my voice colder than
11:59 Thu, 20 Jun M
Chapter 7
the winter night. “My car’s no longer available, get a cab.”
Natalia’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t argue. Her fingers flew across her phone screen, and then she looked back at me. “Car’s on its way.”
Silence settled between us, thick and heavy. We waited in the cool air, the only sound the rumble of distant traffic. The car arrived, headlights slicing. through the darkness. I gently lifted Amaya into the back seat, her face pale in the streetlamp glow.
Natalia paused at the door, her hand hovering on the handle. “For a minute there, Alex,” she said, her voice quiet, “I almost thought you were not a complete a**e. Glad I was wrong.”
The car door slammed shut, and I watched the taillights disappear into the night. My mind was a tangled mess, emotion stirring within me. But one thought remained, sharp and clear:
“I hated Amaya Stone. And nothing was ever going to change that.”
