Break Up With My Brother

POV: Chloe

That name hit me like a bucket of ice water. My hands, still reaching out for him, dropped limply to my sides.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice cracked. “Tris, why are you punishing me like this?”

His jaw ticked. For a split second, an old, festering wound flickered in his eyes.

“You’re the one punishing me,” he countered quietly. “You’ve been punishing me for... For...”

A sob tore from my throat. I couldn’t even say the words out loud.

“You’ve become a complete stranger. This...” I gestured wildly at the glass wall, at him, at the toxic air suffocating us. “This isn’t the Tristan I knew. He was warm. Kind. He would never...”

“Don’t.” The command sliced through the room like a blade. Tristan’s face went dead pale. His hands balled into fists, and his voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “He died, Chloe. That bright, sunny wolf you loved died that night. And do you know exactly who killed him?”

My lungs seized. He didn’t have to say the name out loud. The unspoken answer hung between us, heavy and suffocating. The silence stretched until it snapped.

Then, impossibly, Tristan closed the distance again. Not with that earlier predatory edge, but with a slow, crushing gravity.

I turned away, unable to bear the look in his eyes. But his arms instantly banded around me from behind, his solid chest pressing flush against my spine. He buried his face in the crook of my neck. His warm, shaky breaths hit my skin in uneven gusts. When he finally spoke, his voice was totally wrecked.

“I don’t want to be this monster, Chloe.” His hold tightened. His large frame trembled against mine, and a hot tear splashed onto my shoulder. Then another.

“I live in hell every single day without you. Power and hatred are the only things keeping me breathing. But they’ve turned me into...” His voice cracked. “I know I terrify you. I know. I just need you to...”

I twisted in his arms, pure muscle memory. It was exactly how I used to turn to him back when we were teenagers, when his smiles came easy and his laughter was a given. My hands found his face, cupping his strong jaw, swiping the dampness from his cheeks.

“Tris...”

He cut me off, locking me in a bone-crushing embrace that swallowed me whole. He inhaled deeply, dragging his nose through my hair, across my temple, right down to my pulse point.

That’s when the scent hit me. It wasn’t his designer cologne; it was something wilder. Earthy. It clung to my skin, seeping into my pores, and reality hit me like a freight train. He was scent-marking me. Claiming his territory. Scrubbing away every last molecule of Ethan.

Tristan pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes spiked with fresh tears. Beautiful, but utterly broken.

“I’ll change,” he swore. “I’ll try my damnedest to be the old Tristan again... if you stay. If you choose me.” His thumbs traced slow, mesmerizing circles on my hips. “But as long as Ethan is your boyfriend... As long as he gets to touch you, kiss you, and parade you around in public while I’m forced to watch from the sidelines...”

His grip turned bruising, his features darkening into something feral.

“The beast wins, Chloe. I lose my goddamn mind knowing he has any part of you.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Break up with him. Save me from what I’ll become if you don’t. Please.”

That single word hung in the air, soft and devastating. I couldn’t answer. My heart was a total warzone. Tristan searched my eyes for a long, agonizing minute.

Then, he dropped his hands.

“Get out,” he rasped, taking another huge step back. “Because I swear to God, I won’t be able to stop a second time.”

It sounded like a dark warning. Like a man clinging to a frayed leash, holding back a starving, bloodthirsty beast.

I stumbled to the door on jelly legs. As my trembling hand grasped the knob, I glanced back. He stood dead-center in the office, fists locked, eyes burning, his entire body trembling with restraint.

“Mine,” he growled. It was barely a whisper, but it echoed in my bones.

I turned on my heel and ran.

POV: Tristan

It was agonizing.

But I had to keep the beast on a leash. She wanted it, I saw the absolute surrender in her eyes, felt her hips grinding eagerly against my cock. She was practically begging for it.

And I walked away.

I fucking stopped.

A guttural, animalistic growl ripped from my chest. I let her flee my office. Turning to the security monitors, I watched her practically sprint down the corridor without a single backward glance. I tapped a key, pulling up the exterior cameras just in time to see her car tear out of the parking lot.

I killed the screens and stalked into my private en-suite. I cranked the shower knob to freezing cold and stepped in fully clothed. The icy water hit my broad shoulders like a thousand tiny needles. Pressing both hands flat against the slick tiles, I let the biting chill claw into my skin. My dick still ached, thick, heavy, and absolutely furious at me for backing down.

But the cold did absolutely nothing to drown out the memory of her. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the reel play behind my eyelids. The scalding memory of her wet heat, her sweet, desperate moans, the greedy way her tongue danced with mine, it all played on a relentless, torturous loop.

“Mine,” I roared into the empty shower stall, the sound bouncing off the wet tile.

This wasn’t working. I twisted the faucet off, snatched a towel, and scrubbed my hair with rough, violent swipes. Marching back to my desk, I collapsed into my leather chair and flicked the monitors back on, rewinding the footage to the exact moment she reached her car.

“Mine,” I rasped to the empty room.

On the frozen screen, right before opening her door, her head whipped back toward the building, as if she could still sense my alpha aura, still feel my heavy gaze tracking her from the shadows.