34: Don't You Dare
ALEXA
The comments blurred together the longer I stared at them. I tipped the half-empty whiskey glass to my lips again, my eyes stinging as laughter bubbled up from somewhere hollow inside me. It wasn't funny, none of it was. But I laughed anyway.
"'Gold-digging widow poisons husband and seduces her way into a billionaire's bed.'" I read aloud, my voice wobbling with every word. "Wow. They really pulled out the literary knives for that one."
I let the glass dangle from my fingers, swirling what was left in the bottom.
Another comment popped up on the screen.
"I heard she laughed at Vincent's funeral. How much did she make off his death?"
My lips curled as I tapped at the screen, my heart hammering beneath my ribs. "Bitch, mind your fucking business."
I took another drink. The burn was nothing compared to the ache screaming in my chest.
Laughter bubbled up again. It cracked halfway through and turned into a sob.
God. I was losing it.
I stumbled to my feet, knocking the empty bottle over with a dull thud. My legs were heavy and unsteady. The room spun slightly around me, but I made it to the full-length mirror mounted beside the closet.
And there I was.
I hated her. The woman in the reflection. Wild hair, pale skin. A haunted reflection of who I used to be under Vincent's control.
I stepped closer.
"I don't even know who you are anymore,” I said.
She didn't answer. She just stared back with those broken eyes. Mocking me. A twisted reflection of everything I'd lost and everything I'd let touch me.
Killian, Vincent. All of it.
Tears blurred my vision. My fingers clenched tighter around the glass. I raised it without thinking and hauled it.
The glass shattered against the mirror, shards scattering on the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed through the silver surface, slicing through my reflection until it was just pieces. Like me.
I didn't move. I just stared at the broken glass, my body sagging until I crumpled to the floor, right there in the middle of the wreckage.
The silence roared in my ears.
Everything ached. My head. My heart. My soul.
With this scandal, my modeling career was in jeopardy. Just when I thought I could breathe again...
I don't know how long I sat there. But then I heard it.
The door opened.
I didn't even look up at first. I didn't need to because I felt him.
Killian.
His presence was unmistakable. That heavy aura that filled every room he stepped into.
He said nothing. He just stood there.
So I raised my head slowly.
And when my eyes met his, I hated him.
I hated that he looked calm while I was falling apart. How could he be so perfectly composed while my world had just shattered like the glass at my feet?
I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, look at that. The king himself has come to witness his masterpiece."
He didn't respond. He just stood there with his eyes fixed on me.
"Was this part of your plan?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Destroy me from the inside out? Tear me down until there's nothing left?"
There was not even a flicker of emotion on his face.
My chest caved in then.
I staggered to my feet, swaying slightly as I closed the distance between us. My hands reached out before I could stop them, grabbing the front of his shirt.
"Was it all a game to you?" I snarled, my breathing ragged. "Did you plan this from the beginning? The seduction, the kindness, the lies? Was it your revenge?"
He clenched his jaw.
"Say something!" I screamed, slamming my fists against his chest. "SAY IT, KILLIAN!"
His eyes darkened, but he didn't touch me. Neither did he stop me. He just let me hit him. Over and over again.
"Congratulations, you win," I croaked.
He quietly stepped back and turned around. Just like that, he left.
No explanation. No apology. No comfort.
I collapsed back onto the floor, choking on the silence he left behind.
I didn't move.
Not even when the door opened again.
Killian had returned, but I stayed curled on the floor, my back to him, surrounded by the broken glass. My skin was cold. My throat ached from screaming. But I didn't move.
Let him see what he'd done.
Let him stand there and take it in, the woman he'd gutted.
I heard the clink of something being placed on the table. Then there was silence. Again.
Eventually, I turned just enough to glance at what he'd brought.
A bottle of water.
Two painkillers.
How thoughtful.
My laugh was weaker this time.
"You think two pills and a sip of water fixes this?" I rasped, my throat aching as if I had swallowed glass.
He didn't answer. Of course he didn't.
I pushed up from the floor, my muscles screaming while my head swam. I walked past him without looking at him once.
I sat on the couch, folding my arms tightly around my knees, curling in on myself.
I didn't look at him.
Not when he stepped closer.
Not when he crouched in front of me.
Not even when his fingers brushed my ankle to check for cuts.
He exhaled in a way that made me think he wanted to speak. But he didn't.
He just stood... and left again.
This time, I didn't watch him go.
....
The air on the balcony was cold. The wind whipped my hair into my face, but I didn't care. I needed to feel something that didn't feel like drowning.
I wrapped my arms around myself, the night air biting at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm ripping through my chest.
Behind me, I heard the soft click of the glass door opening.
I didn't turn.
"Still playing the silent savior?" I muttered, not even bothering to mask the venom in my voice. "Here to offer me more pills? Or maybe a broom for the mess you made?"
He said nothing.
So I spun around and snapped.
"You hate me, don't you?" I shouted, storming toward him. "You hate me for what I don't remember!"
He didn't flinch, but I saw the anguish flashing in his icy blue eyes.
He slowly moved towards me until we were face-to-face.
"No," he said, his voice rough. "I hate that I still want you. Even now."
A lump formed in my throat. And he brought his hands to my face.
Then his mouth crashed onto mine.
It wasn't a kiss. It felt like a war.
Hot. Brutal. Devouring. As if we were punishing each other.
I kissed him back with every ounce of rage in my bones. Every lie. Every unanswered question. My fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer. I wanted to disappear into him. Or destroy him trying.
His lips moved as if he'd been starving.
But then, he suddenly stopped. His chest heaved, his forehead pressed to mine.
"Don't," he rasped. "Don't make me choose this."
I blinked. "Choose what?"
But he didn't answer. He started to turn away.
Again.
I stood there, my lips swollen, my chest heaving.
What the hell was I doing? I wondered.
The tears came before I could stop them.
Vincent's taunts filled my head right then, and I was reminded of just how broken I was.
My thoughts spiraled quickly.
I stumbled towards the balcony's edge, my heart hollow.
With the idea of it... the silence... the peace...
I stepped forward.
The wind kissed my cheeks in a manner that felt as though it was welcoming me.
And just as I swayed, a hand grabbed my waist and pulled me back. He crashed me against his chest, and I swear, I felt him shudder.
Killian.
"No," he growled into my ear, his voice shaking. "No, Alexa. Don't you dare."