Chapter Seven

Rielle

I didn’t feel my legs until I tried to move.

They wobbled a little pathetic, honestly — and I had to lean on the damn glass wall to keep from crumbling.

He just walked away.

He didn’t even look back.

And somehow, that stung more than all the roughness combined.

Zayden fucking Wolf. Like he hadn’t just shoved me against that same wall and wrecked every shred of composure I had left. Like his hands weren’t still imprinted on my hips. Like his voice wasn’t echoing in my head with every breath I took.

“Say my name.”

God.

I adjusted my skirt with trembling fingers, buttoned up the blouse he’d nearly torn off, and tried to steady my breathing. My lips were swollen. My body still humming. My pride? Scattered on the floor with the buttons.

It wasn’t just the sex — it was the way he did it.

Like he was proving something. Like he wanted to fuck me into forgetting everything else — including Dante.

I hated him.

I hated the way I let him use me like that. Like a stress ball he squeezed when the pressure got too much. Like some pawn in his power game with Dante.

Dante.

The second the name hit my brain, my stomach turned. Not from guilt. From disgust.

Because the worst part? I knew what I was doing.

Because he was trying to get to Zayden.

And he was using me to do it.

And the worst part?

I let him.

I pushed the words out of my mouth on purpose — “Maybe he has”, “He asked nicely” — like weapons. And they landed. I watched Zayden break. And I liked it.

The way his eyes changed when I said, “Maybe he has.”

I knew that look.

Possession.

Control.

Jealousy disguised as indifference.

But I also saw the crack underneath it — that small, brutal flicker of something real behind his anger.

And it scared the hell out of me.

Because I didn’t know if he wanted to fuck me, destroy me, or keep me.

Maybe all three.

I didn’t want to be that girl again.

The one who gave too much just to feel wanted.

But the second Zayden put his hands on me, I forgot how to be anything else.

I stumbled to the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned against the cool tile.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

You’re okay.

You’re still you.

You’re not back in Dante’s apartment, wearing his stolen hoodie and pretending he didn’t cheat again. You’re not begging him to look at you. You’re not crying into your pillow while he parties with someone easier.

You’re not her.

But the ghosts didn’t care.

They crept in anyway.

I splashed cold water on my face, patted it dry, and stared at my reflection.

My lipstick was gone. My mascara was smudged. My eyes looked… tired. Not just from sex. Not just from Zayden. From the constant emotional whiplash of pretending I was fine when everything inside me screamed otherwise.

I tried to smile.

It cracked halfway through.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom and returned to my desk, the office was quiet. He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t demanded more coffee just to make me miserable.

I should’ve been relieved.

Instead, I felt… hollow.

“Rielle.”

I jolted.

Lucas stood in front of me, holding two cups of coffee, his soft smile a welcome contrast to the chaos I’d just endured.

“Thought you might need this,” he said gently, it was his cup of coffee he handed to me.

I took the cup with both hands. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” he asked softly, like someone who actually gave a shit.

I nodded. “Yeah.

He studied me. Lucas had those eyes — the kind that saw too much, too quickly.

Lucas didn’t push further. That’s what made it worse. His patience. His steadiness. His soft concern.

Because I didn’t want that right now.

I wanted messy. Violent. Something that hurt and felt good at the same time.

I wanted the man who walked out of that office like I didn’t exist five minutes after making me scream his name.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

You looked good today. He doesn’t deserve you.

– D.

I froze.

And just like that, the guilt dropped back into my stomach like a stone.

What the hell did I get myself into?

I didn’t want to be in the middle of their pissing contest. I didn’t want to be the trophy, or the pawn, or the woman stuck between two men with enough childhood trauma to fuel a soap opera.

But here I was.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t even innocent in it.

I opened the text thread.

Stared.

Typed “Fuck off.”

Deleted it.

Typed “You don’t get to talk to me.”

Deleted that too.

Instead, I powered off my phone and shoved it into my drawer like that could somehow erase the part of me that still felt something when Dante looked at me.

“Are you sure… you’re okay?” Lucas asked again, voice a little softer this time.

I nodded for the second time, tighter this time. Not because I was fine — but because I was done talking about it.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then the clock on the wall ticked loudly — 6 p.m.

Thank God.

Time to leave. Finally.

No more questions. No more watching eyes. No more soft concern that felt like it could unravel me.

I liked Lucas. Genuinely. He was kind — disarmingly so. But the last thing I needed was that kind of kindness. Not right now. Not when everything felt so sharp and fragile and loaded.

The last thing I needed was a misunderstanding.

Especially with Zayden.

I started gathering my things — grabbing my bag, powering off the office desktop, brushing loose strands of hair from my face like it could hide the mess I still felt inside.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lucas offered, standing as I reached for my bag.

But I stopped. My voice gentler than before.

“No… thank you. I think I just need a moment to myself.”

He paused, watching me like he knew there was more I wasn’t saying. Then he gave a small nod, respectful.

“Alright,” he said, offering a small smile. “But if you ever want to talk—”

“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thank you, Lucas.”

And just like that, he left.

I stood there for a few seconds, letting the silence settle. Breathing it in like I was coming up for air. Like the quiet might somehow wash Zayden’s hands off my skin… even though I knew it wouldn’t.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.