Chapter Ten
Khalil sat reclined in his chair as he pondered the events of the ball with a drink in his hand. His legs were propped up on his impressively large mahogany table as he allowed his mind to wander.
He wondered what had been said to her that had caused her to lose her composure. He always knew that the family dynamic there had always been odd. After all, what father would approach their largest adversary and more or less sell his first child to him regardless of the reputation that he had?
He thought about the look he had seen in her eyes as he had held her up against him. It was something that he was well-versed in.
Pain and anguish. A feeling of being trapped with no escape in sight.
Was that how she felt with him? Was that the reason for the scathing words she had spoken the night before? He still felt the sting of her words, but no...he would not hold it against her. He knew he should punish her, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Khalil hated how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, he hated how no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop regretting how rough he had been with her. He winced as he remembered the purple bruises on her arm from where he had roughly grabbed her. He wanted to go to her, to tell her how sorry he was, that he had never meant to hurt her, that he had just been angry, that he hated to see the look of pain and anger and anguish in her beautiful eyes, that he wanted to be the reason she smiled forever.
He wanted to fall to his knees and plead for her mercy, for her love, for her to look upon him with anything but the look in her eyes that night.
Khalil frowned as he realized how far his thoughts had taken him. He looked down at the drink skeptically, and slowly put it down, deciding that it was to blame for that train of thought.
He laughed sardonically. He knew that wasn’t true. Isabelle had been etching her way into his heart since the day he brought her back with him. Her beautiful eyes, her skin, the way she walked, the fullness of her body. But those were feelings that he could not acknowledge. To do so would be of great betrayal of his late mate.
He possibly couldn’t do that to her...not when he was the reason she was dead, not when he had failed in his promise to protect her. He shook his head and picked up his glass again, draining it. Despite his thoughts, he felt a stirring in his loins, a sensation that betrayed his thoughts. He swore under his breath and adjusted himself in his pants, a sense of guilt washing over him at the sensation.
Meanwhile, Isabelle sat on the floor of her room, her hands wrapped around her legs and her head rested on her knees, the words of her sister running through her head in a loop.
‘You are nothing. You will always be nothing.’
It was nothing that she hadn’t heard before. She should know that her sister had just said it to hurt her. That it didn’t matter where or who she was or who she became, she would always be nothing to them. She thought it was a fact that she had accepted.
It would seem not.
Isabelle hated how their statement had rung true. She was nothing to all the people in her life. Nothing to her father, nothing to her late mother. And worst of all, nothing to her husband who preferred the embrace and company of another woman.
Isabelle sighed heavily and forced herself to her feet, and immediately came face to face with her reflection in the large mirror. She winced at her reflection. She still had on her makeup from the previous night, tears stains down her cheeks, and swollen eyes from all the crying she had done. She still had on her red dres, and her hair had come undone, and had plastered itself to her face.
Isabelle grimaced at the sight. She looked miserable. Almost as miserable as she felt.
Isabelle laughed at her reflection. She had hoped and prayed on her mate...on her prince to come and save her. He would whisk her away from her wicked family and they would go on and live happily ever after. It would seem the goddess had chosen a different path for her.
She had thought that perhaps this union might not be bad, that it would provide the escape she so desperately needed. But no, she was stuck with a man who was still stuck on his late mate, and with a mistress to boot.
Isabelle took a deep breath and felt anger replace the misery inside her. She was tired. Tired of being weak, tired of always being on the losing end, of being given the short stick, of always being down and trampled upon. She was sick of it.
She was angry.., at everything...at everybody. At her father for failing to protect her, at Annabelle and Fiona for hating her for no just cause, at Khalil for
plucking her away and sealing her off in his mansion, at her mate for taking so long to find her.
And she was done. She would take her life into her own hands.
“No more,” She said firmly to her reflection in the mirror. “This ends now.”
Why should she continue to endure the insults? After all, she was the wife of one of the most powerful alphas, Why should she be made to cower?
She would become strong. Yes. She would become stronger than them all. Her hands balled into fists as her resolve strengthened.
“I won’t let them hurt me again,” she said. “I won’t let them break me again. They’ve done enough! They’ve hurt me enough!”
Isabelle angrily wiped her tears, smudging her makeup even further.
Her voice cracked as she muttered to herself, “I was foolish. Nothing ever changes.” She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand and pushed herself up on unsteady legs. Her feet carried her toward the window, almost as if she were in a trance.
The moon stared back at her, high and bright despite the approaching dawn. She caught her reflection in the glass – pale, tired, bruised – but something deep inside her stirred. A flicker of something she had not felt in a long time. Anger. Not at Khalil. Not even at Fiona or Annabelle. But at herself. She had allowed this. She had let them walk all over her.
Her fists clenched as she glared at her reflection. “No more,” she whispered. Her voice grew stronger with each word. “I won’t let them break me again.” Her chest burned with the force of it. “They think they’ve won. But they haven’t.” She took a deep breath, her hands steady now. “I will never let them see me fall again.” Her words filled the room, soft but fierce.
Unbeknownst to her, just outside her door, Khalil stood. He hadn’t planned to stop. He had simply been passing by. But the sound of her soft crying had frozen him in place.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, listening. Long enough to hear her muttered words. Long enough to hear the quiet fury in her voice. He should have walked away. He should have ignored her. But something about her voice made his chest tighten. She sounded nothing like the meek, obedient girl she pretended to be. She sounded strong.
He raised his hand, hovering it near the door. He could almost picture her on the other side, trembling but refusing to fall. He should have knocked. He should have said something. But he didn’t.
He let his hand fall to his side. With a deep breath, he turned away. His footsteps were silent as he walked down the hall, but the weight in his chest only grew heavier with every step.
And for the first time in a long while, Khalil wasn’t sure if he was walking away from her or from himself.