Chapter 91: Used Me

Alaric sat up abruptly, the mattress groaning under his weight. He didn’t care that he was naked; the coldness he felt was inside his chest. He looked at Sofia as if she were a stranger.

​”I told you I wanted to be better for you,” he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and deep hurt. “And all the while, you were just waiting to use me to twist a knife into Damien.”

​Sofia sat up too, pulling the damp sheets over her body. The high of her revenge was starting to fade, replaced by the stinging reality of Alaric’s expression. “It’s not like that, Alaric. I do want you. But I wanted him to feel an atom of pain for what he made me go through.”

​”But you didn’t choose me for me,” Alaric snapped, standing up and reaching for his discarded clothes. “You chose the one man whose touch would hurt him the most. That’s not love, Sofia. That’s revenge.”

​He pulled on his trousers, his movements jerky and sharp. “I’ve spent years being used for my title and my money. I thought you were the one person who saw the man behind the crown. But you’re just like the rest of them—using me for your own agenda.”

​”Alaric, wait—” Sofia reached out, her fingers brushing his arm.

​He flinched away from her touch as if it burned. “Don’t. I can still taste you, and it feels like poison now.”

​He headed for the door but paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Damien is a fool for what he did to you. But I’m the bigger fool for thinking a heart filled with that much hate had any room left for me.”

​The front door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the small apartment.

​Sofia’s heart sank and she wished she could run after him and apologize, but she couldn’t. What would she say? He was right. She had used him. Yes, she wanted him, but in the process, she used him just to get back at Damien.

​”Damien is close,” her wolf suddenly announced.

​Fear gripped Sofia. Quickly, she picked up a dress and began to put it on. She wore it and dashed to the sitting room, only to find Damien banging at the door.

​”Sofia, open up!” he yelled.

​Sofia inhaled deeply and went for the door. She pulled the door open, her hands trembling as she braced herself. Before she could even speak, Damien stormed in like a wounded beast, the scent of his rage hitting her like a physical wave. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and his chest was heaving with animalistic fury.

​”Where is he?” he roared, his voice trembling with a mix of jealousy and pain. He shoved past her, storming through the small apartment, throwing open the bedroom door and checking the bathroom. He was looking for blood, looking for a fight, looking for the man who had just shattered his world.

​When he realized Alaric was truly gone, he turned back to Sofia. He stood in the center of the living room, his claws beginning to peek out from his fingertips. He stared at her, and for a moment, the silence was more terrifying than the shouting.

​His eyes drifted down to her neck. There, clear and dark against her pale skin, was a hickey Alaric had left. He stepped closer, his nose twitching. The apartment was thick with the heavy scent of his own uncle mixed with Sofia’s sweetness and the salty musk of sex.

​”You actually did it,” Damien whispered, his voice trembling with a sick kind of disbelief. “You let him touch you. You let him fuck you.”

​The thought sent his wolf into a wild, uncontrollable spiral. To a werewolf, the bond was sacred, and feeling his mate’s pleasure with another man—especially a man of his own blood—was a torture worse than death.

​”I can still smell him on you, Sofia,” he growled, stepping into her personal space until she was backed against the wall. “He’s all over you. My own uncle. Was it worth it? Did hurting me feel as good as you thought it would?”

​Sofia looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wanted to feel triumphant, but seeing the raw, broken look in Damien’s eyes made her stomach churn. The revenge she had craved so badly now felt like a mistake.

​”Yes,” Sofia lied, her voice shaking but her eyes cold. “It was worth it. And I will do it over and over again, Damien. I will keep doing it until you agree to let us go. Reject me. Let’s end this bond so we can both move on.”

​Damien stared at her, his chest still heaving. The animal rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a deep, hollow sadness. A single tear slid down his cheek, tracing a path through the sweat and grit on his face.

​”No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I am not rejecting you. I can’t. Even after… after what I just felt… I won’t let you go.”

​Sofia felt a surge of frustration and anger. She stepped closer to him, her face full of fury. “Then get prepared, Damien. If you won’t end this, then get ready to feel everything. I will sleep with as many men as I can. I’ll find every way to make you feel that pain until you can’t take it anymore.”

​Damien didn’t yell. He didn’t react. He just looked at her with a broken expression, as if he didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him. He didn’t say a single word. He simply turned around and walked out of the apartment, his shoulders slumped and his spirit crushed.

​Sofia stood frozen until she heard the click of the front door. She rushed over, turned the deadbolt, and leaned her back against the wood. Her legs finally gave out, and she slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her head in her hands.

​”What is wrong with me?” she whispered to the empty room.

​The “drug” of revenge had worn off completely, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. She had set out to hurt Damien, and she had succeeded—but at what cost? She had used Alaric, a man who had actually opened his heart to her. She had made him feel like a tool, a weapon.

​She thought of the look in Alaric’s eyes before he left—the way his face had fallen when he realized she was laughing at his nephew’s pain instead of enjoying their moment. She had finally found someone who saw her for who she was, and she had thrown it away just to win a fight with a man she claimed to hate.

​She curled into a ball on the floor, the scent of Alaric still lingering on her skin, reminding her of the beautiful thing she had just destroyed.

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