Chapter 3

　　Raine

　　Morning light cut through the heavy hotel curtains, I blinked awake slowly, my eyelids feeling like they were glued shut with dried tears.

　　For a split second, I forgot where I was. I felt a strange, heavy warmth draped over my waist and a deep, pulsing ache in my lower body that made me catch my breath.

　　Then, the smell hit me. Bourbon, sweat, and that sharp, pine-and-metal scent of an Alpha.

　　The memories of the night before flooded back—the way Miguel had looked at me in the mirror, the desperate heat of his mouth, the way he had whispered my name against my skin.

　　My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest. I stayed perfectly still, staring at the sunlight dancing on the ceiling, trying to hold onto the feeling of his arm around me for just one more second.

　　Beside me, Miguel stirred.

　　I felt the mattress shift as he pulled away. The loss of his body heat felt like being splashed with ice water.

　　I turned my head slightly, watching him through my lashes. He sat up fast, rubbing his face with both hands. I saw the scratch marks I had left on his shoulders—angry red lines that stood out against his tanned skin. They were proof that last night wasn't a dream.

　　Then, he looked at me.

　　I expected to see the tenderness from the night before. I expected a soft smile, or maybe even an awkward "good morning." Instead, his face hardened.

　　His jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. The confusion in his eyes lasted for maybe half a second before it was replaced by something cold, sharp, and ugly.

　　"What the fuck happened last night?"

　　His voice was a jagged rasp, stripped of all the warmth it had held hours ago. He scrambled out of the bed as if the sheets were on fire, grabbing his discarded boxers from the floor and pulling them on with trembling hands.

　　I sat up slowly, the silk sheet sliding down to my waist. I didn't try to cover myself. I wanted him to see the marks he had left on me. I wanted him to see the purple bruises on my hips and the red flush on my chest. I wanted him to see exactly what he had done.

　　"You know what happened, Miguel," I said. My voice was surprisingly steady, though my heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.

　　He whirled around to face me, his eyes bloodshot and full of a wild, defensive anger.

　　"You… you took advantage of me. I was drunk. I was out of my mind and you just let this happen? You let me fuck you?"

　　The word fuck felt like a slap. Last night, it had felt like making love. It had felt like a beginning. Now, he was making it sound like a crime.

　　"Don't you have any shame, Raine?" he spat, his lip curling in disgust. "Any fucking shame at all?"

　　I felt a coldness settle over me. It started in my toes and moved up to my heart, freezing everything in its path.

　　I had given up everything for this man. I had given up my mate, my dignity, and my future.

　　I had spent three years acting as a placeholder for a sister who didn't even want him. And now, he was calling me shameless for finally wanting to be loved.

　　Fine. If he wanted a villain, I would give him one.

　　I raised my chin, meeting his hateful stare with wide, clear eyes.

　　"I'm your wife, Miguel. I don't need shame for taking what belongs to me. I'm the woman who wears your ring. I'm the one who stayed when everyone else left. Last night, you wanted me. You begged for me. And I took what you offered."

　　His face twisted. For a second, I thought he might actually roar. He looked at me like I was something he had stepped in on the street.

　　"You'll never be mine," he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper.

　　"Never. I will always love Raina. I'll love her until my last breath. You're just a shadow, Raine. A ghost. Whatever happened last night… it was a mistake. A disgusting, drunken mistake that will never happen again. You make my skin crawl."

　　A sharp, clean break happened inside my chest. It didn't hurt—not yet. It was too deep for pain. It was just a realization.

　　The man I had been holding out hope for didn't exist. The Miguel who had whispered "baby" in my ear was a ghost created by a bottle of bourbon.

　　Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He snatched it up, his eyes scanning the screen.

　　Instantly, his entire demeanor changed. The anger vanished, replaced by a look of pure, agonizing devotion.

　　"I'll be there immediately," he said into the phone. His voice was so soft, so tender, it made my stomach turn. He didn't even look at me as he hung up.

　　He started grabbing his clothes from the floor, buttoning his shirt with frantic fingers, tripping over his own feet in his rush to leave.

　　He didn't say goodbye. He didn't look back. The door to the suite slammed shut with a bang that echoed through the room, leaving me sitting in the middle of a wrecked bed, covered in the scent of a man who hated me.

　　I sat there for a long time, staring at the door. Then, I tried to move.

　　A sharp, jagged yelp escaped my lips the second I shifted my weight. My inner thighs felt like they were on fire.

　　The soreness was deep, a constant reminder of how hard he had taken me, how many times he had pushed himself into me. Every muscle in my lower body throbbed with a dull, heavy ache.

　　I forced myself out of the bed, my legs shaking so hard I had to grab the nightstand for support.

　　I hobbled to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a disaster. My hair was a bird's nest, my lips were swollen and bitten, and my neck was covered in dark, angry marks.

　　I turned on the shower, stepping into the spray before the water was even warm. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, trying to wash away the smell of him, the feel of his hands, the sound of his lies. But the water couldn't reach the ache inside my bones.

　　I got dressed in my green gown, and think of a way to get back home.

　　It used to be I and Miguel going back together, but he left before me.

　　I held my shoes with my fingers, boarded a cab and headed back home.

　　In the cab, I couldn't help but scoff painfully. He didn't even care or bothered about how I'd get home.

　　After I got to the pent house, I took my bath again and dressed in a pair of loose leggings and an oversized sweater then walked into the kitchen.

　　I made a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, but the smell of the food made me nauseous.

　　I stood by the window, looking out at the city, feeling like I was the only person left on earth.

　　I thought about Kordell. If he were here, he wouldn't have run. He wouldn't have called me shameless. He would have held me until the sun came up and told me he loved me a thousand times.

　　But I had destroyed that bridge. I was on an island of my own making.

　　I walked over to the small, cramped desk in the corner of the living room. It was the only part of this house that felt like mine.

　　Miguel didn't even know I used it. On the desk was my laptop, the screen glowing with spreadsheets and legal documents.

　　For two years, I had been Miguel's secret weapon. He thought he was hiring a high-end consulting firm to fix his contracts and run his projections.

　　In reality, he was paying a firm I had set up under a fake name. I was the one who caught the $2 million error in his last merger. I was the one who rewrote the northern territory expansion plan that everyone was praising him for.

　　He thought his wife was a silent, empty-headed doll. He didn't know that I was the only reason his empire wasn't crumbling.

　　I sat down in the chair, wincing as the pressure hit my sore muscles. I opened the latest file—the redevelopment project for the downtown sector. It was a mess. His lead architect had made a massive mistake in the zoning requirements that could cost the pack millions.

　　I opened the laptop, pulled up the files, and started working. My fingers moved across the keys, steady and practiced.

　　The soreness between my legs throbbed with every shift in my chair, a constant reminder of the night before, but I pushed through it.

　　Let him hate me. Let him run to whoever had called him with that soft voice.

　　I was used to being the one who stayed behind and kept everything running.

　　I didn't need his love. I didn't need his gentleness.

　　I just needed to keep breathing.

　　And for now, that was enough.