Little Revenge

EVE

I pulled back from the door, my chest heaving as tears flooded my eyes.

I ran down the hallway, out of the pack house, until the wind burned in my lungs and my legs screamed for mercy.

Trees blurred past me in a dark green smear, branches snapping against my arms, but I didn't care.

The woods had always been my escape—the one place I could run as fast as I wanted to clear my head. But no amount of running could wipe Jon's voice from my mind.

“Eve is just a political arrangement.”

“I don't love Eve. I never have, and I never will.”

And Leora's smile... that cold, triumphant smile.

I finally collapsed at the edge of the small brook deep inside the neutral territory of the forest.

I dropped to my knees in the damp dirt, buried my face in my hands, and let the sob break out of my throat.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and bitter. It felt like a sick joke. I had dedicated my entire life to becoming a good leader, to taking the fall for Leora, to being the dutiful eldest daughter.

And for what? To be married to a man who secretly despised me, while my sister laughed in my face.

If I went to my parents right now and told them what I heard, would they believe me? No. Leora would squeeze out a few fake tears, Jon would defend her, and my mother would accuse me of being jealous again.

I was alone. Completely alone.

"If you throw any more of those rocks, you're going to kill the fish," a deep, quiet voice rasped behind me.

I gasped, flinching hard. I scrambled around on the wet grass, my hand instinctively dropping to the dagger at my hip.

A man was standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the trunk of a massive oak tree. He was broad-shouldered, impossibly tall, and wrapped in a dark cloak.

Even in the dim twilight, his icy gray eyes cut right through me, piercing and dangerous. I had never seen him before in my life.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, my voice raw from crying. I wiped my face hastily with the back of my hand.

"What are you doing in these woods?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't look threatened by my hand on my blade at all.

"I was enjoying the silence until you burst in here, weeping and throwing a tantrum like a child."

"I am not throwing a tantrum!" I snapped, standing up to face him. He radiated an overwhelming, suffocating aura of pure authority—a power that made my inner wolf shift uncomfortably.

"This is pack territory. You shouldn't even be here."

"It's neutral land, sweetheart. Anyone can walk here," he countered, taking a slow step toward me. There was nothing ‘sweethearty’ about his cold voice. Yet, he won't leave me alone.

His eyes swept over my flushed face and tear-stained cheeks.

"So, what has you crying so hard you didn't even smell me standing here?"

"It's none of your business," I said defensively, looking away.

"Clearly," he drawled, taking another step. He was entirely too close now. I could smell him—rain, dark wood, and something heavy and hypnotic that made my heart race for a different reason.

"Yet you're ruining my evening with your loud sniffling."

There was something frustratingly arrogant about him, but as I looked up into his cold, handsome face, a strange wave of relief washed over me. He didn't know who I was. He didn't look at me like the Alpha's daughter or Jon's future bride. He just saw a person.

"I just found out my betrothed doesn't love me," I blurted out, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

"He's in love with my sister. He told her I'm just a political arrangement, and that he'll never love me."

The stranger didn't look surprised. He didn't offer a pathetic, pitying look like anyone would have done. He just tilted his head.

"And? Is that it?" he asked flatly.

I blinked, taken aback.

"Is that it? He lied to me! He's going to marry me in two weeks while sleeping with my sister behind my back!"

"So marry him as a political arrangement," the man said simply, his voice brutal and practical. "No feelings. No expectations. Just do your duty by him, take the power, and rule your pack."

"That's cold," I whispered.

"That's reality," he corrected, his gray eyes fixing tightly onto mine.

"Marriages aren't supposed to be built around emotions anyway. They are about power and duty. Love is just a weakness people use to control you."

I stared at him, his hard words settling into my chest. He was right.

Maybe love ‘was’ a weakness. It had made me blind. It had made me vulnerable to Leora and Jon.

Then, a sudden, dark thought took root in my mind.

Jon wanted a political arrangement? He wanted me to be his quiet, obedient trophy wife while he held onto his pride? I had saved my virginity for him.

I had dreamed about our wedding night for years, guarding myself so I could give him everything on the night we became one.

He didn't deserve it. He would NEVER have that satisfaction from me.

"If it's just a political arrangement..." I murmured, my voice dropping, "...then I am not giving him my virginity."

The stranger raised a dark eyebrow. "That's your business."

I looked up, looking directly into his cold, piercing eyes. A strange, reckless fire ignited in my blood.

"Take my virginity," I said firmly.

He stared at me for a beat, a low chuckle rumbling in his deep chest.

"You're out of your mind, little bird. Go home."

"I'm serious!" I stepped closer to him, grabbing the edge of his cloak. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I didn't pull back.

"Please….I'm asking this as a favor. Take it. Right now."

"You'll regret that by morning," he warned, his voice lowering into a dangerous, dark gravel. He didn't push my hand away, but his jaw clenched tightly.

"Find some boy in your pack if you're so desperate for revenge."

"I can't," I insisted, my voice tight with frustration. "Everyone in my pack knows I'm betrothed to the Beta's son. No one would dare touch me! You're a stranger. You don't know me, and I don't know you. Please."

I was begging a stranger to take me because the thought of Jon touching me on our wedding night, knowing he didn't love me, made my blood boil.

The stranger stood completely still. The cold, indifferent mask on his face cracked, replaced by something possessive.

Before I could breathe, his hand shot out. His heavy, warm fingers clamped firmly around my waist, slamming me against his hard chest.

The breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp as his other hand came up, wrapping tightly around the back of my neck, tilting my head up to force me to look at him.

His aura flared—intimidating and strong.

"You'll regret this by morning," he growled low against my lips, his thumb pressing hard into my jawline.

"But you'll always remember what it means to be fucked well.”