Drake’s POV:
Even though she wasn’t completely my mate—my whole mate—she was still mine. Her wolf was my wolf’s mate, and that bond, fractured as it was, still bound us together. I had to protect her, even if I was slowly losing my grip on how.
Most nights, I found myself avoiding her on purpose, knowing full well that staying close would only weaken my already fragile control. Yet, I couldn’t keep away. From the shadows, I followed her, watching, making sure she was safe. Tonight was no different. I was supposed to be in bed with her, holding her through the night, but she kept making that impossible. Her seductive advances had beco relentless, every touch, every lingering gaze tempting to give in.
My control was slipping.
Each ti she caught in her line of sight, her eyes would darken with that feral hunger, and she’d tempt , challenge . It wasn’t love she wanted—it was lust. A hunger that had nothing to do with our bond and everything to do with dominance. It felt like she was in heat, driven by instinct rather than affection.
I quarreled with my wolf constantly because of it. He wanted her just as much as she wanted us, and it tore at . It wasn’t that I didn’t desire her—I did—but I couldn’t give in to a twisted version of what we had. What Layla craved wasn’t love; it was control. She wanted to dominate , claim in a way that made her feel powerful, and that wasn’t the bond I longed for.
Tonight was no different. I sat in the adjacent room, close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough to breathe. My mind had already begun to drift toward sleep when I heard it—the sound of a door opening. I bolted up, my heart racing.
I rushed to our room, only to find it empty.
Panic flared inside as I scanned the room, trying to piece together what was happening. Just as I was about to leave in search of her, sothing caught my eye—a crumpled piece of paper lying by the door. I snatched it up, my stomach sinking as I smoothed it out.
’et at the stream alone at midnight. If I don’t see you, Drake will know your little secret. Until then, my little pretty flower.’
Raphael.
The handwriting was unmistakable, and so was the implication. My blood boiled as I read the words over again, trying to process what I was seeing. What secret? What could Raphael know about Leila that I didn’t?
Questions swirled in my mind, but one thing was certain: she was walking into a trap, and I wasn’t about to let that bastard get his hands on her again.
Layla’s POV:
The night air was cool against my skin as I approached the stream. The moon hung high above, casting an eerie glow on the water, but my thoughts were far from its beauty. My focus was on one thing—Raphael. The re thought of him made my blood boil, my wolfish instinct itching to tear him apart once again. Tonight, I wasn’t here to et him as so weak little girl. No, I was here as an Alpha, and he was about to learn that.
I heard him before I saw him, his footsteps uneven, the soft rustle of leaves signaling his presence. When he finally appeared in the moonlight, I could barely contain the smirk that tugged at my lips. He was a shadow of the man he once was. His face was marred by scars from the beating Drake had given him, his eye still missing, a hollow reminder of his earlier defeat. His body, while healing, still bore the signs of Drake’s wrath—jagged lines crisscrossed his skin where my mate had torn him apart.
Pathetic.
"Hello, my little pretty flower," Raphael’s voice was smooth, yet I detected the hint of bitterness beneath it. He smiled, though it was crooked, the scarred skin pulling at his lips. "Long ti... but sothing about you has changed, though I can’t quite put my finger on it."
I felt the shift in my deanor, the way my wolf prowled beneath the surface, ready to strike. He liked what he saw, even if he didn’t understand what it was. My smirk deepened as I stepped closer, the power in my every movent undeniable.
"I like it," he added, his good eye gleaming with a twisted admiration as he looked up and down.
The fool had no idea. He wasn’t dealing with Leila anymore. He was facing Layla.
"I’m not the sa little flower you rember," I purred, my voice dripping with cold amusent. "But trust , Raphael, you’re about to find out just how different I am."
I could see the mont he realized sothing was off, the slight twitch of his lips as uncertainty flickered in his eye. He had no idea the kind of danger he was in now, standing before , daring to speak to like he still had power over .
The satisfaction I felt at his confusion was almost overwhelming. Let him wonder, let him guess. Tonight, he would learn exactly who I was.
I took a slow step toward him, my eyes narrowing as the air between us crackled with tension. "You want to play a ga?" I asked, my voice low, dangerous. "Let’s see who cos out on top this ti."
Raphael’s smile faltered, but he tried to hold his ground. His arrogance disgusted , but it also fueled my fire. He thought he could manipulate again, twist into submission like before. But this ti, I wasn’t just fighting for survival. I was fighting for revenge.
And I intended to win.
"Co with before the Blood Moon Pack arrives. They’re going to raze this place to the ground for hiding you after you killed their Alpha," Raphael’s voice oozed with false concern, as if he actually cared about my fate. But the gleam in his one remaining eye told a different story. He wanted sothing, and it wasn’t my survival.
I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at his words. The fear he was trying to instill in was laughable. Did he really think I was afraid of him, or anyone for that matter?
He stretched out his hand, reaching toward as if he had the right to touch . My reflexes were faster. Before he could make contact, I gripped his wrist, squeezing just hard enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Ooh, feisty. I like it," Raphael sneered, seemingly unfazed by my strength. "Looks like my little flower has grown so thorns."
He clearly underestimated the depth of my rage, the darkness swirling inside , threatening to consu everything in its path. I saw it in his face—he thought he could still play his gas, that his charm and twisted words would break like before.
But I wasn’t that fragile flower anymore.
The satisfaction was instant as I tightened my grip, feeling his bones crack under my hand. A loud snap echoed through the air, and Raphael’s smug expression twisted into pain. His mouth parted in a gasp, but before he could react, I snapped his wrist with a swift, brutal motion. The sound of it breaking was music to my ears.
"You—" Raphael tried to strike with his other hand, his movents sluggish in his panic, but I caught him again, this ti by the throat.
He struggled, his one good eye wide with fear as I squeezed, his skin turning pale beneath my fingers. I could feel the urge rising, the primal need to end him, to crush the life out of his pathetic body right here and now. His breathing beca erratic, his pulse fluttering wildly beneath my hand.
That’s when I saw it—the flicker of real fear in his eye. He knew I could kill him in an instant, and he was terrified.
"Wait... wait!" His voice was strangled, barely audible. I felt his desperation as his hands scrambled to pry mine off his neck, but he was too weak. "If you kill ... if you kill , my spy will give Drake a letter... telling him that you’re the brat of the people who killed his parents!"
The words slamd into like a physical blow. My grip faltered for just a second, shock and fury crashing through . What?
He smirked, the fear giving way to a twisted sense of triumph. "That’s right, sweetheart. Kill , and Drake finds out your dirty little secret. The truth about who you really are."
Before I could react, before I could decide whether to snap his neck or demand more, I heard the sound of footsteps behind .
"Layla," ca the deep, commanding voice I knew all too well.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat.
Drake.
I turned slowly, and there he was, standing just beyond the tree line, his eyes blazing with fury, confusion, and sothing else... sothing darker.
"What did you say?" His voice was low, dangerously controlled, but I could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface.
Raphael, choking for air but still managing to smile through the pain, repeated, "She’s the daughter of the ones who murdered your parents."
Drake’s gaze shot to , his eyes wide with shock, betrayal swirling within them like a brewing tempest. His fists clenched, the air around him crackling with barely-contained rage.
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