Chapter 48 WORDS OF HURT AND ANGER (1)
GALLAHAN’S POV
Death would’ve been better than hearing such a remark from my fated mate.
I looked at her. First with disbelief. Then with resignation. And finally, with anger.
The will to fight for her and our children was burned into ashes by the scalding words she said, and all I wanted right then and there was to hurt her back.
Immature, sure.
But I didn’t care.
I had never, ever, ever thought I would willingly try to hurt the woman I would’ve loved to put on the highest pedestal. And yet here I was.
Hurt and desperately wanting to hurt back.
I dropped my hold on her and took a step back, ignoring the suffocating yearning to keep her close to me. I quickly put on the coldest mask I had in my arsenal and lifted the impenetrable iron walls around myself.
“I see,” I said with a voice that was wrapped with piercing indifference. “Thank you for telling me exactly how you think and feel. So in return, let me assure you. The feeling has become mutual, Miss Alfiero. I wouldn’t want a child who is birthed and raised by a woman who is absolutely narrow-minded and absurdly judgmental like you.”
Willa took a sharp inhale, as if what I was saying had physically gutted her.
But I wasn’t done yet.
If she thought I was a heartless and cruel monster, then I might as well live up to her expectations. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my little miss perfect.
“And keep this in mind, Miss Alfiero… I would rather end the Wick bloodline than continue it with the likes of you,” I said with a sneer.
And while I kept my tone hard and even, the fury and vitriol still managed to seep out of my voice.
Willa blinked, her eyes glistening with tears. The line of her shoulders were stiff and slightly raised, and her hands were balled into fists, mildly quivering with the intensity of her emotions.
Watching her react like this ignited the urge to scream at her to say that she didn’t have the right to cry. Not when she was the one who threw the first stone. Not when she was the one who dropped a lit match on the fucking bridge I tried so hard to build just to get to her.
But I held the words back and simply glowered at her to keep my own emotions from getting seen on my face.
“I,” she began to say, taking a step back. She then wrapped her arms around herself as if my biting coldness had chilled her to the bone, despite the thick ceremonial robe she was donning. “I’m glad we’ve made things clear between us, Mr. Wick. And since everything has been said already, please excuse me. I have somewhere else to be.”
I laughed. It was a short and breathy sound, but it loudly rang with the bitterness that had consumed my lungs.
“Ah, but Miss Alfiero... There’s something else I need you to know. Just one last thing.”
She sighed and nodded, the small movement coming across as resigned. It seemed like her defiance and will had waned considerably, if the lack of fire in her gaze was anything to go by.
“I may not like you to be the mother of my children, but it’s a little too late for me now, isn’t it? We have Calisto and Gillian, and the parental blood link is a testament to that.”
It seemed like the mention of the twins rekindled the fire I thought I had doused in Willa, because she stood up straighter while her eyes glowed a vibrant deep green.
But even with the sharp claws she now had, I fearlessly added, “I wouldn’t just sit back, Miss Alfiero. I’ll have my children with me, even if it means waging war against you, your clan, and your entire pack.”
In a blink of an eye, Willa had pushed me against the hedge wall, and I could feel a few twigs poking my back.
But I hardly noticed it, because of how the tips of Willa’s pointy claws were on my neck, pressing hard enough to lightly puncture my skin and cause a good amount of warm blood to trickle down steadily.
A wave of arousal hit me like a tidal wave as I marveled over the fact that my fated mate had the gall to square up against me and take me on.
Me! The loathed and feared General of the Culling Army.
It may be twisted, but I found it thrilling and endearing that she had me cornered in an unfavorable position.
If I made one wrong move, she could rip the artery in my neck with one slice of her finger.