Chapter 012
1080 Words
LAYLA’S POV
Colt’s grip doesn’t loosen.
“Edward will find out.” I throw it at him like a weapon because it’s the only one I have left. “And when he does, he’ll come after you.”
He grabs my chin and wrenches it up, forcing my eyes to his. “I said you’re mine and you will be mine until you die. Nobody changes that. Not you or him or anyone!”
When he releases my chin the relief lasts exactly one second before his hand travels down, making sure I feel every inch of the path down my neck, between my breasts, and then lower, and I know where it’s going and I can’t stop it and that helplessness is its own kind of horror.
He cups me there and squeezes. Bile surges up my throat.
I wrench against him with everything I have and he smiles. He actually smiles like my struggle is the best part, like it’s feeding something in him and his fingers begin to move and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I can do this all day.” He whispers, dragging his tongue over my chin. “Every part of you is mine. Every inch. Your little games don’t mean anything to me, Layla. And Amber? Amber can’t stop me. Nobody can.”
“Please.” The word tears out of me and it’s everything I swore I wouldn’t give him.
But it makes it worse. Of course it makes it worse.
His breathing turns ragged against my ear, and he licks a slow stripe up the shell of it. His fingers push deeper, past my panties, and a cry escapes my lips.
My fingers burn. The burn crawls up through my knuckles, through my palms and my claws begin to push through the skin one by one. Oakie doesn’t ask this time. She just comes, flooding up through me, and I don’t fight her.
Do it, I think. Tear him apart.
“Layla, you’re—”
The door opens.
The sound is so ordinary that it takes my brain a full second to register it as real.
Colt releases me instantly. He steps back, spins toward the door with his shoulders squaring. I sag against the shelf behind me, my legs barely holding my body up with one hand pressed to my throat and the burn in my fingers fades slowly and my claws retract one by one.
“Leave.” I hear Colt’s voice and lift my gaze in panic.
A girl is standing in the doorway with long brown hair, wide eyes, and her chest still heaving like maybe she ran here. She looks between me and Colt and I watch the moment her expression changes and she understands that she didn’t walk in on an argument.
She steps closer.
“Are you okay?” She asks, her gaze fixed on me.
I shake my head. I can’t speak yet.
“Are you deaf?” Colt snaps. “We’re busy. Leave and shut the door behind you.”
“I think you should leave.” The girl retorts.
He goes still for a moment, the kind of reaction that usually precedes something ugly. Then he steps toward her, his fist balled at his side.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said you should leave.” Her eyes drag over him slowly from top to bottom, and she scrunches her nose in disgust. “You’re a real piece of shit.”
The air in the room changes.
Colt’s jaw tightens and his hand twitches at his side.
“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? What rules you’re breaking right now?” He tilts his head. “Let me help you. You’ve heard the name Colt Harrison, haven’t you?”
The girl steps closer. She glances at me before returning her focus to him.
“I don’t care who you are.” She says. “But I know what you were doing to her. And if you don’t want to answer to the council for it, I suggest you leave now.”
“What’s your name?” he demands. “Because I want to make sure I get it right when I’m deciding your punishment.”
The girl smiles.
“Charlotte Pearson.” She answers. “Pearson as in Alpha Pearson of Blueridge Pack.” Her head tilts. “Which sits twenty ranks ahead of yours on the council. Which means I outrank you, asshole. So are you leaving on your own, or would you like me to make this officially on record?”
A shaky breath leaves me and I have to blink fast to stop tears from spilling over.
Colt looks back at me. His face is rigid, his jaw working, and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows whatever he wants to say. His eyes move between me and Charlotte once, and then he turns and storms out, the door swinging shut behind him hard enough to rattle the shelves.
My legs give out immediately and I catch myself on the table in front of me, my palms flat against the surface, and just stay there for a moment, head down, and breathing. Charlotte doesn’t say anything. She moves closer and I’m grateful she doesn’t touch me because I think if anyone touches me right now I’ll fall apart completely.
The tears come anyway. My vision blurs and my throat closes, one slow drop tracking down my cheek that I swipe away immediately.
“Sorry,” I whisper, which is stupid. I know it’s stupid the moment I say it.
“Don’t.” Charlotte says quickly. “Don’t apologize.”
I straighten, forcing my spine upright through sheer stubbornness because I have to start somewhere and this is the only thing I can control right now…whether I’m standing or not.
“I’m Layla.” I say, not quite meeting her eyes. “Thank you. I don’t — “ My voice catches but I push through it. “I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t come in.”
Charlotte looks at me for a moment and something moves through her expression and it’s not pity, which I couldn’t have handled.
“Charlotte,” she says. “And you don’t have to know. It didn’t happen.”
I don’t even know when I reach out and pull her into a hug, my shoulder shaking as tears pour down my face.
- Writer
