4. How Far Are You Willing to Go?

Avery’s POV

“Get it over with,” I whispered, a touch of desperation in my voice, pleading for an end to my torment, my suffering, my misery.

He continued to gaze at me with those dead, cold eyes. Then, I felt his fingers tighten around my neck, and my breath caught in my throat. He was really going to do it—kill me with his own hands, succumbing to his father's cruel, sadistic game.

He squeezed a little harder, and the world began to blur at the edges, my heart pounding in my chest. Just as darkness threatened to close in, he released his grip. My legs trembled, and I gasped for air, my breaths coming out in shallow, uneven waves as if I had been suffocating for minutes instead of seconds.

Liam finally broke eye contact, turning to look at his father. The room seemed to spin around me, the intensity of the moment leaving me reeling. The suffocating tension hung heavy in the air, and I struggled to steady my breathing, feeling as though I had just been pulled back from the brink of death.

 “Killing her would be a kindness I will not grant,” Liam declared firmly, his voice unwavering. “I agree with you. She has defied your order by coming here, regardless of her reasons, and for that, I will show her exactly what it means to dare to cross my path after what she did.”

He turned to Andrew, his expression hardening. “She is mine to deal with, and mine alone.”

“You sure you can handle that?” Andrew asked condescendingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Before Liam could respond, a knock echoed through the room. The Alpha King granted entrance, and a male servant stepped inside, bowing respectfully.

“Take her to my bedroom,” Liam ordered, never breaking eye contact with his brother. His tone left no room for argument.

The servant nodded and moved towards me, intending to take my forearm, but I stepped forward on my own. I walked ahead with my head held high, refusing to show any sign of submission or defeat. 

Despite being together for three months, I had never stepped foot in his bedroom. He had always insisted on protecting me from his father, rarely allowing me inside the packhouse.

The servant left me alone and quietly closed the door behind him. With nothing else to do, I took a hesitant look around.

The room exuded an air of majestic elegance. Dark, polished wood covered the floor, and a grand four-poster bed with intricately carved details dominated the space. Heavy velvet drapes framed the large windows, dimming the light to a soft, warm glow. A massive fireplace occupied one wall, its mantel adorned with a few carefully chosen artifacts and photographs. The furniture was all dark wood, matching the bed, and included a sturdy writing desk, a plush armchair, and a wardrobe that looked like it could hold a lifetime's worth of secrets. The scent of sandalwood and pine lingered, a constant reminder of Liam.

My gaze eventually settled on a tall mirror in the corner. As I stared at my reflection, horror gripped me. The last time I had looked at myself after knocking out Nathan was nothing compared to what I saw now. My skin was pale, almost ghostly, with dark circles under my eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and endless torment. My hair hung in disheveled strands, dull and lifeless. Bruises and cuts marred my face and neck, stark reminders of the violence I had endured. My eyes, once vibrant with life, now appeared dull and hollow, reflecting the depth of my anguish.

I barely recognized the person staring back at me. The stark reality of my situation hit me like a physical blow, and I felt a wave of despair wash over me. This was the price of my decisions, the cost of my past actions, and now, there was no escaping the consequences.

I turned around at the sound of the door opening, expecting Liam. Instead, a blonde girl around my age stepped inside. She stopped short, her eyes widening at the sight of me.

“Who are you? Where is Liam?” she demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory.

“I’m Avery,” I replied firmly, not appreciating her tone.

Recognition and surprise flashed across her face. She approached me with a mocking glare. “You must be plain stupid to show your face here after all these years.”

“Do I know you?” I asked stiffly, sensing she knew far more about me than I did about her.

“No, but I sure as hell know you. I’m Sharon... Liam’s…. soon-to-be mate,” she said brightly, clearly enjoying the shock on my face.

Her words ignited a fire in my chest, a burning mix of jealousy and heartbreak. The room seemed to close in around me as I struggled to process what she had just revealed.

 “You didn't expect him to stay alone all these years, did you? It’s not like you were fated or anything. He got over you very fast, believe me. It was like you never even existed in his life, and now I can see why,” she said mockingly. “Because there's really nothing special about you whatsoever.”

Her words made my blood boil, anger coursing through my veins.

“And is there anything special about you? Other than the ability to annoy the hell out of people?” I shot back sarcastically.

“You can't talk to me like that, you bitch!” she spat through gritted teeth, raising her hand to slap me. But I caught her wrist and twisted it behind her, forcing a gasp of pain from her lips.

I leaned in close, my voice a low whisper laced with agitation. “Listen to me. I don’t care who you are to him or whether you find me special or not. I only care about getting my pack back, and for that, I will do anything. No matter what it takes.”

"Anything?" Liam's cold tone cut through the air from behind me.

I released Sharon's arm and turned to face him. She ran over to him, shrieking, "Liam, she attacked me! How dare she! She needs to pay for this; she almost broke my arm!"

I rolled my eyes at her theatrics. I wasn’t at full strength yet; there was no way I could’ve even sprained it.

To my sweet satisfaction, Liam didn’t spare her a glance. Shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the bed, he ordered dryly, "Leave us alone, Sharon. I will deal with her as I see fit, not based on your suggestions."

Sharon's eyes brimmed with tears, and I relished every second of her dismay. She shot me a hateful look before storming out and slamming the door behind her.

Liam approached me, his eyes still cold. "How far are you willing to go to get your pack back, Avery?" he asked challengingly.

I stayed silent, my heart skipping a beat at hearing my name from his lips. Damn, how I missed hearing my name from him, how I missed loving that name just because he was the one saying it. He looked at me curiously, waiting for my response.

 He continued when I didn't answer. "Would you go as far as stripping naked right now in front of me? Becoming my mistress to do with, play with, as I see fit? Kneeling down on your knees and begging me to save the pack you chose over me?" he asked daringly.

His harsh words cut deep, and tears sprang to my eyes. Despite the humiliation, I couldn't hate him for saying them. I knew the hatred I had let bloom in his heart because of me, and I couldn't blame him for feeling that way. But damn, it still hurt to hear him say those things in that tone.

I swallowed hard and replied in a thick voice, "Anything... Liam."

His eyes flared with anger. "It's prince to you, Avery. Call me Liam again, and I will make you pay for it," he threatened darkly.

Blinking back my tears, I nodded. My hands trembled as I reached behind my back to unzip the wedding dress I was wearing, my gaze locked on him as he followed my movements silently.

Just as I was about to let the dress fall, he stopped me with a loud growl. "Do you really think I would ever take you back?"

The raw intensity of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands froze, and I could feel the weight of his disdain pressing down on me. The room seemed to close in, the air thick with unspoken emotions and unresolved tension.