DEADLY ATTRACTION TO THE WRONG TWIN

Talia’s pov "Yes….. urggg…..Dylan! Right there! Harder! Gosh, you are so good…." The sound of a female voice was moaning so hard from within Dylan's office. I stood frozen outside his office door, my hand still gripping the silver handle. The chocolate cake I had spent three hours baking sat forgotten back in our kitchen. The birthday candles I had arranged so carefully were probably melting into the frosting by now. None of that mattered. Because right now, through the c***k in the door I had just pushed open, I could see everything. Betty Morrison was bent over Dylan's desk, her red dress bunched around her waist. My mate, my husband, the Alpha of Moonridge Pack, was behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he slammed into her. I could hear the sound of my heart being shredded into tiny pieces with immense pain, more than I have ever felt in my life before. The desk shakes with each thrust. Her moans filled the room, loud and shameless. "Oh, you feel so good," Dylan groaned. "So much tighter than—" The mate bond exploded in my chest, the pain piercing through every spine in my body. It felt like someone had reached inside me and twisted every nerve ending until they screamed. My wolf howled, a sound of pure agony that only I could hear. My lungs stopped working, and my vision became blurred at the edges. This could not be real! This could not be happening! Not today, not on my birthday. Not after I had left everything for him. My pack. My family. My entire life, all because the moon goddess said we were destined. Betty's head fell back as she cried out again. "Do not stop! Please do not stop!" Dylan did not stop. I watched his face, searching for something. Maybe I would see Regret or Guilt. Anything that said that this was a mistake. But all I saw was pleasure. Raw, unfiltered satisfaction. He had never looked at me like that. My hand shook on the doorknob. Every instinct screamed at me to burst in there. To shift. To tear Betty apart with my claws and make Dylan watch. To challenge him right here, right now, in front of whoever would hear. But I could not move. Could not breathe. Could not do anything except stand there like a coward while my mate betrayed everything we were supposed to be. The bond burned hotter. It was the moon's punishment, I knew that. For walking away. For not fighting. The mate bond did not care about betrayal or heartbreak. It only knew that I was moving away from my other half, and it wanted to drag me back. I slowly stepped backward, careful not to make a sound. My whole body trembled. Dylan grunted, his movements getting faster. "I am close. Oh, I am so close." "Come inside me," Betty gasped. "I want to feel it, I want to carry your pup inside of me!" That was when I ran. I did not care who saw me. Did not care about the guards stationed down the hall or the wolves passing through the corridors. I just ran, tears streaming down my face before I even made it to the stairs. The mate bond ripped at my insides with every step. It felt like dying. Like someone was peeling my skin off layer by layer while my wolf thrashed and howled and begged me to go back. But I could not go back. Because if I did, I would kill her. I would kill them both. And then what? Then I would be the monster. The jealous, crazy Luna who could not handle her Alpha needs. My car keys were in my pocket. I did not remember grabbing them. Did not remember walking to the parking lot. But suddenly I was in my car, starting the engine with shaking hands, backing out so fast I almost hit another vehicle. I drove off, not sure where I was going. All I knew was I wanted to get away from Dylan, as far as I could, hoping that would make the pain go away. The pack house disappeared from my rearview mirror and I still pressed harder on the gas. My wolf snarled at me, furious that I was taking us further from our mate. Further from the bond. Let it burn. Let it kill me. I did not care anymore. The crying started somewhere around the border. Ugly, choking sobs that made it hard to see the road. I swiped at my eyes, but the tears kept coming. Three years. I had given him three years of my life. I stood beside him as he rebuilt this pack after his father's death. Had defended him when others whispered that he did not have the Alpha mark and should not be leading. And this was what I got. Betty Morrison. The daughter of our allied pack's Alpha. The same girl who smiled at me during pack meetings and called me sister. How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months? How many times had Dylan looked me in the eye and lied? The bar appeared like salvation. A rundown building on neutral territory that smelled like stale beer and poor decisions. I did not care. I pulled into the parking lot, killed the engine, and walked inside. The place was nearly empty. A few rogues in the corner. Some wolves I did not recognize and also some of our pack members behind the bar. I walked straight to the bar and slammed my hand down. "Vodka." He looked at me, taking in my tear-stained face and shaking hands. "Rough night?" "Just give me the bottle!" He poured a shot. I drank it before he could set the bottle down. "Another." He poured. I drank. This went on until I lost count. Five shots. Eight. Twelve. The alcohol burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire eating through my chest. Nothing compared to the image of Dylan's hands on Betty's hips that played on repeat behind my eyes. "I think you have had enough," the bartender said, pulling the bottle back. "I will decide when I have had enough." My words slurred together. "Luna, I cannot—" "Do not call me that." I lunged for the bottle, but he moved it away. "Give it back!" "I am calling your pack house to come get you." "No!" Panic surged through the alcohol haze. I could not go back there. Could not face Dylan. I could not pretend everything was fine when I knew what he had done. "Give me the bottle!" "I am sorry, but—" My hand connected with his face before I realized what I was doing. The slap echoed through the bar. Everyone turned to look. The bartender touched his cheek, his eyes wide. I stared at my palm in fear, I had never hit anyone before. Never lose control like this. "I am sorry," I whispered. "I did not mean—" "She is with me." A deep and hoarse voice suddenly spoke from behind, so familiar it made my heart stop. I turned. Dylan. No. Not Dylan. Dane! He stood there in a leather jacket and torn jeans, his hair longer and wilder than his twin's. But it was his eyes that gave him away. One green. One hazel. Mismatched and strange and looking at me like he could see every broken piece inside me. The bad twin. The one accused of killing his own father. The one everyone avoided. "I will handle this," Dane said to the bartender, pulling money from his wallet. "Sorry about your face." "I do not need your help," I said, but my legs chose that moment to give out. Dane caught me before I hit the floor. His hands were steady. Warm. He smelled like smoke and pine, nothing like Dylan's cedarwood. "Yeah, you really seem fine." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking most of my weight. "Come on." "Where are we going?" "Away from here before you assault anyone else." I tried to pull free, but my body was not cooperating. The alcohol had finally hit and everything was spinning. "I can walk." "Sure you can." He guided me outside into the night air, taking me to where his motorcycle was parked. "I am not getting on that." "Fine! I have to call Dylan to come get you?" I stopped fighting. Dane helped me onto the bike. His hands were gentle despite all the scars covering them. "Hold on to me," he said, climbing in front. I hesitated. Then wrapped my arms around his waist because I had no choice. He felt solid, nothing like the ghost I had been married to. He steered the engine and even as he sped out of there, I didn't care about where he was going, I couldn't care in my drunk state even though I was with the man that had been like a plague for three years in this pack.