Xaden’s POV
I stood there, watching her with an incredulous smile playing on my lips. Her eyes were wide, like a wolf about to pounce, filled with an intensity that was almost too much to handle. I couldn’t help the weak chuckle that escaped me—it was all so… absurd. But the tension in the air was thick, and her words didn’t make sense. I had to hear it again.
“Did you just call me jealous?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.
She didn’t even flinch. In fact, she did the exact opposite—she crossed her arms over her chest, squared her shoulders, and glared at me like she was daring me to question her. She didn’t care about my confusion, and that only made the whole thing worse.
“Yes, I called you jealous,” she said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.
Jealous? Of her? Of him? The words didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand how she could possibly think that. My jaw tightened, my chest burning with a frustration I couldn’t quite name.
“Jealous of what exactly? You?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the accusation. “What, because of you? What, you think I’m jealous of you?”
I laughed again, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was bitter. It didn’t feel right. Her eyes didn’t leave me. She stood there, unwavering, like she was waiting for me to snap, to react. She wasn’t even fazed by the mockery in my voice.
I took a step toward her, feeling the anger pulse in my chest, but she backed away, just enough to keep that distance between us.
No. I wasn’t going to let her back away from me. Not this time.
“Hey, don’t you dare move an inch,” I growled, my words like a warning. “A jealous person wouldn’t reject his mate. A jealous person wouldn’t stand by and let their mate suffer, would rather see them die than help them. So don’t call me jealous, you cockhead.”
I could feel the heat building in me—rage, confusion, frustration all tangled up. But there was something else, something that made me feel exposed, raw. Maybe it was the way she looked at me—like I was some puzzle she was trying to crack open.
I didn’t know why I was still standing there, pushing forward with every word. But damn it, she was making me feel like I was losing control.
“Don’t act like you understand me,” I spat, my fists tightening at my sides. I could barely contain the storm raging inside me, but I needed her to understand. Needed her to see what this rejection had cost me.
“You want to know why I rejected you? I didn’t do it because I’m jealous. I did it because I knew I wasn’t good enough. I knew it would tear me apart, but it wasn’t about me. It was about you. And damn it, if you think I’m just some guy, too scared to take what I wanted, you’re wrong.”
She didn’t back down, didn’t flinch at the words I threw at her. She was relentless—of course, she was. She always was. But there was a crack in her voice, a tremor in her eyes, that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, she was getting it. Or maybe she wasn’t.
Her face twisted, her anger flaring. She didn’t seem to care that I was standing here, spilling my guts. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her words were sharp—cutting.
“You rejected me because you’re a coward,” she bit out, her voice rising. “Coward. That’s all that keeps ringing in my head right now, Xaden. Coward!”
The word hit me like a blow to the chest, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Coward?
I slammed my fist against the table next to us, the sound so loud it rattled the room. The anger coursing through me made it hard to think, hard to control the rage that bubbled up to the surface. But I had to respond. I had to make her understand.
“Coward?” I barked, my voice shaking with emotion. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think I walked away because I was scared? Because I couldn’t handle it?” My voice dropped, a dark edge creeping into it. “No. I walked away because I loved you, and I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. I couldn’t bear to drag you down with me when I knew I wasn’t enough. And you think I’m a coward for caring about you? For making the hardest decision of my life? You think I’m the coward?”
She wasn’t done. Of course, she wasn’t. She was too damn stubborn.
“Since you rejected me,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom, “maybe I’ll just go after your brother.”
My brother?
The words hit me like a physical punch, and for a split second, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
She’s going to go after my brother?
The thought burned, like a fire starting deep in my chest. I knew she was just trying to provoke me, but it still hurt—more than I wanted to admit. The very idea of her with him—of her choosing him over me, of her turning to him because I wasn’t enough—nearly broke something in me.
I took a step back, my hands trembling with the force of everything I was feeling. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The words came out before I could stop them, low and dangerous.
“Go ahead, then,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, dark and taunting. “Go to him. See how far that gets you.”
I didn’t even care anymore. The rage was consuming me, but it was nothing compared to the hurt I was trying to hide. She’d pushed me too far. Now, I just wanted her to understand—understand that the choice I made wasn’t because I was weak, but because I couldn’t be the man she needed.
She could have him.
But damn it, it didn’t stop the pain of hearing that they were seeing each other.