Roman~

The heavy door to my penthouse at the top of Thorin Tower slammed shut with a sound that echoed through the empty space like a gunshot.

I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't need them.

The storm outside provided enough through the windows. Flashes of lightning illuminated the black forest and the deep ravine far below, where everything weak eventually fell and disappeared.

I stood there, still in the same clothes from the hotel, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Blood trickled down, warm and sticky, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was her, Azalea.

Her scent still clung to my skin. Sweet. Furious. Addictive. Mixed with the unmistakable smell of sex and my own release.

I could still taste her on my tongue. The salt of her sweat, the way her pussy had flooded my mouth when I'd eaten her like a starving man before driving my cock into her.

Fuck.

I walked to the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the darkness that mirrored the rot inside my chest.

Four years. Four goddamn years I had carried this curse in silence. Watching her from the shadows at every pack event.

Watching her smile at Timothy like he was worthy of her. Watching him touch what should have been mine while I stood there like a loyal Alpha, jaw locked, pretending the sight didn't tear me apart.

Last night, that control had shattered completely.

Even drugged, she had been perfect. The way her legs had wrapped around me, heels digging into my ass as she pulled me deeper. The shattered moans that escaped her throat when my knot began to swell, stretching her pussy hard. The way she had clenched and gushed around me, coming so hard her entire body shook while she cried out - thinking it was him.

I hated that part the most.

My cock hardened again at the memory, pressing painfully against my pants. I growled low in my throat, hating my own body for its weakness.

I had wanted her for so long that having her, even like that, felt like both salvation and damnation. Her walls had gripped me like they never wanted to let go. Hot. Wet. Greedy. Milking every drop from me as my knot locked us together for what felt like hours.

I slammed my fist into the windowsill. The wood splintered under the force.

She believed I had orchestrated it. I had seen it burning in her eyes this morning when the cameras flashed and the world watched her humiliation. That mix of devastation and pure hatred.

She thought I had done it to punish her for standing up to me in the office two days ago. For calling me cruel. For looking me dead in the eyes and telling me I was nothing but a cold, arrogant bastard hiding behind money and power.

Part of me wished I had planned it. At least then I could claim her properly. At least then I wouldn't feel like the worst kind of monster.

I returned to my desk. Poured myself a large glass of whiskey and downed half of it in one go, the burn doing nothing to dull the ache in my chest.

Timothy's face kept flashing through my mind.

The way he had stood there with Christy, holding her hand like he had rehearsed the moment a thousand times.

The reporters arriving too fast. The way he had rejected Azalea without a single second of hesitation or pain. Without even giving her a second chance.

Everything was too clean. Too convenient.

That bastard and Azalea's so-called best friend had set us both up. I believed. They had drugged her. Drugged me. Used the one night I lost control to destroy her reputation and free him to be with Christy. And they had succeeded.

Rage vibrated the blood in my veins and settled deep in my bones.

Timothy had been my Beta. My best friend since we were pups. I had trusted him with everything. Even when he had invited me to Azalea's birthday last night. I didn't fucking turn it down even while I hated public gatherings.

And he had betrayed not just me, but the woman I had secretly wanted for years.

Christy would suffer too. I would make sure of it. Their pain would be worse than mine and Azalea's. I would break them so hard that their bones would scream from crushing.

But Azalea...

She would be different now.

I knew her fire. She wouldn't break quietly. She wouldn't disappear into the shadows and lick her wounds. That look she gave me before security dragged her away - it wasn't just hate.

It was vengeance taking root. She would come for me. She would try to seduce me. Use that beautiful body and that sharp tongue as weapons to make me fall, then shatter me. She had no fucking idea how much I could predict her every move.

A dark, possessive smile tugged at my lips despite everything.

Let her try. Let her come for me.

I wanted her close. Closer than she had ever been. Close enough that I could finally stop pretending. Close enough to taste her again while she still hated me. Close enough to watch her crack and realize she belonged to me.

I finished the whiskey and set the glass down, staring at my reflection in the window. The Alpha. The billionaire. The man who could have any woman in Shadowveil with a single look. Yet the only one I had ever truly wanted had been forbidden.

Until now.

Her bond with my beta was gone. She was free.

And I was done holding back.

The storm outside raged harder, lightning illuminating the endless black forest.

Somewhere out there, Azalea was hurting. Planning. Burning with the need to destroy me. I am certain.

Good.

Come for me, little Beta.

Seduce me. Hate me. Try to ruin me.

I'll be waiting.

And when you finally get close enough... I won't let you go again.

Azalea~

I woke up with my cheek stuck to the cold leather of the small couch in the secretary's antechamber, the torn dress from last night still damp and clinging to my skin like a punishment I couldn't escape.

My body hurt in ways I didn't want to name.

A deep, throbbing ache pulsed between my legs with every small movement, a filthy reminder of how Roman had stretched me open, how my pussy had clenched and gushed around his knot while I thought it was Timothy.

Shame burned hot in my stomach. I pressed my thighs together, hating the fresh slickness that answered the memory.

The penthouse floor of Thorin Tower was still quiet, wrapped in that heavy pre-dawn silence. I had slipped past security last night because I had nowhere else to go. My parents had thrown me away. Timothy had rejected me and walked off with my best friend. The home we shared was no longer mine. So I had hidden here like a broken animal, curled up in the one place no one would dare enter without the Alpha's permission.

I stayed hidden until I heard the first murmurs of staff arriving on the lower levels. Only when the floor grew quiet again did I creep out to my desk outside his office. My hair was a tangled disaster. The dress was wrinkled, torn at the shoulder, and still carried the unmistakable scent of sex and him.

I looked exactly like what everyone was calling me now - a cheap, ruined whore who had thrown herself at the Alpha.

The elevator pinged.

My heart hammered in my chest.

Roman stepped out, looking every inch the untouchable billionaire Alpha. Crisp black suit. Sharp jaw. Cold, commanding presence that made the air feel heavier. His eyes landed on me and dragged slowly down my body, over my messy hair, the torn fabric barely covering me, the visible bite marks on my neck, the way I was still trembling from the cold and everything else.

I swallowed hard, shifting on one foot as heat flooded my core. My pussy throbbed traitorously, a rush of wetness slicking my thighs. I hated my body for reacting to him like this. Hated him more for making it happen.

He said nothing at first.

Just reached into his wallet, pulled out a golden credit card, and flicked it onto the floor right at my feet.

"Get yourself some decent clothes," he said, voice icy and laced with disgust. The annoying, rude Roman. A fucking bastard.

"You look like a cheap whore who spent the night getting fucked and thrown away," he added. "Fix it before you embarrass me and this company any further."

The words landed like punches to the gut. Humiliation burned through my chest, hot and vicious. My hands shook as I bent down and picked up the card from the floor. I wanted to throw it back in his face. I wanted to scream at him. But I had nothing. No money. No clothes. No home. No pride left to protect.

I hated myself for bending.

I hated him even more.

Roman walked past me without another word and disappeared into his office, shutting the door with a click.

I sat there for as long as I could remember, breathing through the rage and shame twisting inside me. Then I grabbed my phone and left, keeping my head high as I walked through the main office area.

Every eye turned to me. Whispers and laughter followed like a toxin in the air.

"That's her... the one who got caught naked with the Alpha..."

"Timothy rejected her so fast, poor thing."

"Look at her. Still smells like him."

A group of women giggled behind their hands. One of them didn't even bother hiding it. My face burned, but I didn't flinch. Didn't slow down. They were not worth it.

I kept walking until I reached the elevator, then stepped out into the cold mountain air and caught a cab to the nearest luxury store in Shadowveil.

I bought clothes that would be weapons.

Tight black blouses that clung to my breasts and showed just enough cleavage to torment. Pencil skirts that hugged my ass and thighs like a second skin. Heels high enough to make my legs look endless and dangerous.

I changed in the fitting room, then forced myself to eat a proper meal; eggs, toast, coffee, because my stomach had been empty since the nightmare began. I needed strength. I needed fuel if I was going to survive this war I was starting.

By the time I returned to Thorin Tower, I looked like a different woman. Professional on the surface. Dangerous underneath.

I didn't knock on his office door.

I pushed it open, ready to start my game, ready to see if I could crack that ice.

And froze in the doorway.

Roman had a woman bent over his massive black desk. Her skirt was shoved up around her waist, panties dangling from one ankle. He was fucking her hard from behind, deep, punishing thrusts that made her moan and grip the edge of the desk desperately.

His powerful hips slammed against her ass again and again, the wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filling the quiet office. One of his hands fisted her hair, yanking her head back. The other gripped her hip so tightly his fingers dug into her flesh.

His head lifted. His dark eyes met mine.

He didn't stop.

He kept fucking her, harder now, his gaze burning into me the entire time. Like he wanted me to watch every brutal inch. Like he wanted me to feel it. His jaw was tight, muscles flexing with every thrust, but his eyes never left mine.

My pussy clenched without warning. A rush of heat and jealousy crashed through me so strong my knees almost gave out. My nipples tightened painfully against the new blouse. Fresh wetness soaked my thighs.

I remembered exactly how Roman felt on that bed. How his long, massive cock stretched me. That brutal rhythm, the way his knot had swelled and locked us together until I broke.

I stood there trembling, chest tight, unable to look away.

He was doing this on purpose.

And the worst part was how badly my body wanted to be the one bent over that desk instead.