Chapter One

 

Sarah's pov

 

If love came with a refund policy, I would be the first to cash in. No, scratch that—I would kick down the door and demand every penny back, no questions asked.

 

Here I was, sitting in the darkest corner of the club, tucked away from the sweaty mess of bodies moving to the beat like it was their last night on earth.

 

But I wasn’t here to dance. I sat with my third bottle of… honestly, I didn’t even know what it was. The label didn’t matter. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the wildfire in my chest.

 

My mind kept dragging me back to that moment—Joshua, my fiancé, the man I swore my world revolved around, sleeping with another woman in the very bed that was supposed to be ours very soon.

 

Their moans still echoed in my head like a broken record I could not turn off.

 

They say, "Everything happens for a reason." Whoever came up with that lie deserves to have this bottle hurled straight at their head. If that saying is true, then I must be the exception. No way am I giving that cheating brat another second of my life.

 

That was why I left there unnoticed without a word, because there was nothing to say. No explanation would have mattered.

 

I loved him. Stupid, naive love that makes you think you are special just because he says so. He promised me the world, and I believed him like a fool. But love doesn’t stand a chance against betrayal.

 

I took another swig, eyes fixed on the chipped edge of the table.

 

My vision blurred—not from the alcohol but from tears. They were older than tonight. They were the kind that had been waiting for an excuse to fall. And now, they had one.

 

"Well, well, someone looks like they need a little company."

 

The voice was slick, coated in arrogance, and close. Too close.

 

I glanced up to see a man leaning against the table, grinning. His eyes lingered on me like I was something to consume.

 

"Not interested," I muttered, turning away.

 

 

"Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart." His fingers trailed too close to my arm, and I yanked it away.

"Bet I can make you forget whatever’s got you looking so sad." He added.

 

I clenched my jaw as he leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear.

 

"Bet you are a wild one when you are not acting all tough," he chuckled.

 

That was it.

 

Instinctively, my hand grabbed the cold glass in front of me, and before I knew it, the drink was in his face.

 

"You looked like you needed a shower," I snapped at him, a smirk playing on my face.

 

Gasps and laughter erupted around us as the man stumbled back, wiping his eyes and cursing.

 

His wet hair clung to his forehead, his face twisted in rage.

 

I stayed seated, my eyes locked on his, letting him feel every inch of the contempt I had for him.

 

 

His face twisted into a sneer, wiping the alcohol from his eyes.

 

"You just made a mistake, lady," he growled.

"And you'll regret it."

"You think you are tough now, huh? Watch your back, sweetheart. You'll regret this. I assure you that." He added.

 

He then stomped off, the crowd parting for him like waves around a storm.

 

Afterwards, I sat back, eyes straight ahead, letting the burn in my chest settle into something colder, harder.

 

The satisfaction of what I had done to him didn’t even come close to easing the pain in my heart that I had planned to tonight as my mind kept drifting back to Joshua.

 

"You are so dumb to believe in 'forever' with any man or anyone in this city, especially after everything you’ve done." I cursed myself under my breath.

 

I had thought Joshua was different, especially after he promised to love me for who I am, despite my past—the same past that caused my mother to disown me and kept anyone from getting close in this city. But it was all a lie. I was so stupid to believe him. It was like I had just proven to myself that I didn’t deserve anything good or any kind of excitement in life that made it worth living.

 

I was still lost in my thoughts when someone sat down beside me. I didn’t notice at first, too consumed by the spiral of my own mind, until I felt a shift on the cushion that I glanced up.

 

I was surprised to see that the person was a boy, barely eighteen, with fluffy brown hair that looked soft like the kind you'd want to run your fingers through if you were not so tired of people.

 

Slowly, I scanned him from head to toe. His golden-brown eyes seemed to glow under the dim club lights, and I could not help but notice his muscular shoulders. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt, paired with jeans and black boots.

 

 

I hate to admit it, but any girl his age would probably fall for him—he was that good-looking.

 

"You are handling this all wrong," he said casually, like we were old friends, pulling me out of my thoughts.

 

I scrunched my face. “Excuse me?”

 

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “The guy you poured that drink on? Not worth it, honestly. You should have broken the glass on his head instead. That sounds a clearer message.”

 

I blinked. “What?”

 

He ignored my confusion.

 

“But you are not really mad at him, are you? You’ve been sitting here too long for that. I've been observing you for a few minutes now. You are definitely mad at someone. You would not be trying to drown yourself in alcohol if you were not." He glanced at me like he already knew the answer.

 

"It's a man, isn't it?"

 

I didn’t answer, though I was shocked by how he guessed it right.

 

“Yeah, it’s a man,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Only a man can wreck someone this bad."

 

I turned away.

 

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

 

"Did he break your heart?”

 

My gaze snapped to him instantly. "Mind your business, kid!"

 

He sat back, his eyes never leaving mine. "But it is my business. Only fools break the hearts of women like you. People like that needs to be taught a lesson."

 

That caught me off guard.

 

I glanced at him, brows raised.

 

"What does he know about women like me?" I thought to myself.

 

"You are wasting emotions on a man who isn’t even worthy of your anger," he murmured, leaning forward.

 

His breath was warm against my ear to snap me out of my thoughts.

 

"But if you tell me his name, I'll make him wish he never met you." He added, smirking.

 

I gave him a glare.

"What, so you can play hero?" I scoffed.

"Spare me."

 

He chortled.

 

"Hero? Nah." He chuckled.

"Since he broke your heart, I want to break him. I'm really good at destroying people. It’s only fair, right?"

 

My breath caught in my throat immediately.

 

"Come on, just give me a name." He pressed.

"It's like writing his name on a birthday card. Except I’ll be the one delivering the surprise."

 

I snorted, shaking my head. “Sure, kid. Run along and play with people your own age.”

 

To my surprise, he leaned in closer again, his smile gone, replaced by cold eyes. "Tell me his name, and I’ll make him bleed."

 

His voice dropped lower, sending shivers down my spine. "I’ll give him nightmares that don’t end when he wakes up. I’ll tear him apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, until he begs for the pain to stop—so much so that even his reflection won’t recognise him once I’m done with him."

 

My breath hitched as I stared at him in shock, my mind echoing, "What did he just say?!"

 

“Still not talking?” he said, sitting back again, eyes flicking over me like I was a puzzle he was halfway done solving.

"Well, I won't leave until you tell me his name." He insisted.

 

This boy is insane!

 

 

But I had had enough. I figured the alcohol was giving him the nerve to approach me, even though he didn’t seem drunk at all. He probably thought his looks and cocky attitude would get him somewhere, since some women might have fallen for it.

 

I shot him a glare. "Listen, kid, go find your friends and go play somewhere else."

 

A kid like him should not even be allowed in here.

 

“Leave,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time.

"I don’t deal with underage kids.”

 

His lips twitched, curling into a sly smile.

 

“Underage?” He chuckled.

“You think I’m underage?” He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine.

"I turned eighteen two months ago. Besides,

I’ve done things grown men wouldn't survive," he smirked.

 

"Good for you,” I shot back, my patience snapping.

"Still, you are not my age. Go celebrate with people your own age.”

 

His voice dropped low. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

"Because you're mine and I'm yours," he replied when I asked him why.

 

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes widened in shock. "What did you just say?"

 

He sighed. "Let me just break it down for you."

"I'm your mate."

 

My heart stopped instantly.

 

"What?" I whispered in disbelief and in confusion.