Chapter 59 Fifty nine

Chapter 59 Fifty nine
‎Celeste
‎
‎I stood outside Zander’s penthouse door, fingers curled so tightly around my clutch that my nails dug into the leather.
‎Zander hasn't called since the fight in his apartment it still clung to me like a bad smell and the memory of that omega bitch walking out of his home naked and bleeding like she owned the place, and Zander standing there watching her go.
‎I had waited long enough.
‎Tonight I would remind him exactly who he belonged to.
‎I knocked once and the door opened after a long pause.
‎Zander stood there, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair a mess, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey dangled from his fingers. He looked wrecked. Beautifully, pathetically wrecked.
‎“Well,” I said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, my voice dripping with sugar-coated venom. “Look at you. The future alpha of two packs, reduced to drinking alone in the dark like a heartbroken teenager. How very… charming.”
‎He didn’t smile. He just closed the door behind me and took another swig from the bottle.
‎“Celeste,” he said, voice rough. “What do you want?”
‎I laughed softly, walking slowly around him, letting my fingers trail across his chest.
‎“What do I want?” I echoed, sarcastic and sweet. “I want my fiancé back. The one who used to look at me like I was the only woman in the room. Not the one who lets some random omega whore attack me in his living room and then watches her walk out like she’s the queen of the fucking world.”
‎He didn’t react. He just stared at me with those stormy grey eyes, the whiskey making them darker.
‎“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.
‎“Shouldn’t I?” I stepped closer, pressing my body against his. “Your father called me today. He’s furious. He wants the wedding moved up. He wants us to announce it publicly, seal the alliance before your little omega toy destroys everything and yet here you are, drunk and alone, probably still smelling like her.”
‎His jaw clenched.
‎I smiled wider, leaning in until my lips brushed his ear.
‎“Tell me, Zander,” I whispered, sarcastic and cutting. “When you fuck her, do you think about me at all? Or am I just the polite, polished fiancée you come back to when you’re done playing with trash?”
‎He grabbed my waist suddenly, hard enough to bruise, and yanked me against him.
‎“Shut up,” he growled.
‎Then he kissed me.
‎It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loving. It was angry, desperate, punishing. His mouth crashed down on mine, teeth nipping, tongue demanding. I kissed him back just as hard, nails digging into his shoulders, letting all my rage pour into it.
‎He walked me backward until my back hit the wall, hands already shoving my dress up around my hips. No foreplay. No sweet words. Just raw need.
‎“You want this?” he rasped against my mouth, voice dark and broken. “You want me to fuck you like I fucked her?”
‎I laughed bitterly into the kiss. “At least pretend you remember my name while you’re inside me, darling.”
‎He snarled, spun me around, and bent me over the back of the couch. My dress was shoved up to my waist in seconds. He didn’t even bother with my panties he just ripped them aside and thrust into me in one brutal stroke.
‎I gasped, fingers digging into the cushions.
‎He was thick, hard, and angry. He fucked me like he was trying to erase her from his mind, hips snapping hard and fast, balls slapping against me with every deep thrust.
‎“Harder,” I hissed, pushing back against him. “If you’re going to use me to forget her, at least do it properly.”
‎He growled low in his throat and slammed into me even deeper, one hand fisting in my hair, yanking my head back.
‎“You talk too much,” he snarled, pounding into me relentlessly. “Always talking. Always reminding me what I’m supposed to want.”
‎I moaned, the sound sharp and sarcastic even as pleasure spiked through me. “And yet here you are, fucking me like you’re trying to crawl inside my skin to escape her. Pathetic.”
‎He fucked me harder, punishing, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. His cock stretched me wide, hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl, but it wasn’t loving. It was angry. It was him trying to fuck away the memory of her.
‎I came first, clenching around him, moaning his name like a challenge.
‎He followed with a rough, broken sound, burying himself deep and spilling inside me, hips jerking as he emptied himself.
‎We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing hard.
‎Then he pulled out, staggered back, and collapsed onto the couch, eyes already closing.
‎I fixed my dress slowly, watching him.
‎He was drunk, exhausted and broken.
‎As his breathing evened out into sleep, he murmured something under his breath.
‎“Iris…”
‎The name hit me like a knife to the chest.
‎Iris.
‎Rage exploded inside me, white-hot and blinding.
‎I stood there, his cum still leaking down my thigh, staring at the man who was supposed to be mine.
‎He had fucked me and had come inside me yet even in his sleep, he was calling out her name.
‎I smiled slowly, cold and dangerous.
‎The omega thought she had won.
‎She had no idea what was coming.
‎I turned and walked out of his penthouse, the door clicking shut softly behind me.
‎The princess was done playing nice.
‎It was time to remind everyone exactly who held the real power.
‎And this time, when I was finished, there would be nothing left of her but ashes.