He ripped my dress!

EMMA

Mason and I sat across from each other, quietly having our meal when he suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with amusement.

"You know, Emma," he said, tilting his head slightly, "I've been sitting here for the past hour trying to decide something very important."

I looked up, my brows knitting together. "What?"

Mason reached across the table, placing his hand over mine, his gaze turning soft. "I've been alone for a long time, and I think... I need a partner. Someone who understands me, who loves me through thick and thin."

A lump formed in my throat as an awkward tension settled between us. His fingers lightly massaged my palm, his hopeful eyes searching mine. But I couldn’t do this—I couldn’t play with his feelings.

I quickly jerked my hand away and pushed back my chair. "I—I need to go home," I said, my voice uneven.

Without waiting for his reaction, I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the café, my heart pounding. Even as I stepped inside the car, I could still feel the weight of his words lingering in the air.

Mason followed me, slipping into the driver’s seat beside me. He studied my face for a moment before asking softly, "Are you okay?"

I nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Please... just take me home. I’m not feeling well."

A flicker of hurt flashed across his face, but he didn’t argue. With a silent nod, he started the engine.

As we neared the pack boundary, my nerves only grew worse. Oh God, why did I agree to have dinner with him?

The moment the car came to a stop, I opened the door and stepped out hurriedly. But before I could take another step, Mason grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him.

I gasped, suddenly pressed against his chest as his arms wrapped around me.

"How dare you?" I lashed out, struggling to break free.

Mason’s grip tightened slightly, but his voice was gentle. "I need you, Emma. Please… just think about me. I promise I’ll keep you happy. Just trust me."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to meet his gaze. The moment he let go, I turned and ran straight toward my room.

As soon as I entered, I froze.

Elijah was standing there, his dark, unreadable eyes locked onto mine. My breath hitched as he took slow, deliberate steps forward, his gaze burning with something dangerous.

"Where did you go, and with whom? Don’t test my patience, Emma. I won’t repeat myself," Elijah’s voice was low, dangerously controlled, as his finger traced along my cheek.

"Stop intimidating me. I’m not your slave, and I’m definitely not obligated to answer you," I shot back, my voice laced with defiance. I knew he loved me, and no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t hurt me. But tonight, his anger burned just as fiercely as mine.

I tried to break free from his grip, but it was useless. He wasn’t letting me go.

"Let me go, Elijah," I demanded, my gaze locking onto his. But the man standing before me felt like a stranger.

"Wrong response, babe," he muttered darkly.

Before I could react, he shoved me onto the bed with such force that pain shot through my body. A gasp left my lips as I barely had time to recover before he was on top of me, his gaze cold, unreadable. The warmth I once knew in his eyes was gone—replaced by something dark, something unhinged.

"Elijah, you're hurting me," I whispered, my voice shaking.

He smirked. "Am I not clear that I want answers? And you, Emma, are refusing to give them to me."

In one swift motion, he ripped my dress, leaving me in nothing but my lingerie. My breath hitched.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked, my voice trembling. This wasn’t the Elijah I knew—this was the man I had first met, the one who didn’t know love, the one who only knew control. His fury was suffocating, and his eyes burned into me like daggers.

"Every damn time, you test my patience," he seethed. "My love for you is becoming a liability. I am meant to be respected, Emma, but your tiny, pea-sized brain just can’t seem to grasp that concept. I let things go, again and again, but today…" He raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "Today, you crossed the line."

"Okay, one last chance," Elijah’s voice was low, dangerously calm. "Where the hell did you go, dressed like this, and why didn’t you inform me?" His fingers brushed against the waistband of my panties, his touch laced with possessiveness.

I wasn’t afraid of being with him—I had given myself to him willingly before—but right now, I feared his anger. The unpredictability in his eyes sent chills down my spine.

"I was with Mason," I admitted hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. "He… invited me."

His jaw clenched.

In an instant, he shoved me off him and stood up, his chest rising and falling heavily. Without a word, he yanked off his shirt and threw it at me. "Put this on," he ordered coldly.

I quickly slipped into the oversized black shirt, my hands trembling as I buttoned it up. But the moment I did, he spun around and slammed his fist into the mirror.

Glass shattered everywhere.

I flinched as shards scattered across the floor, my pulse hammering.

"Why the fuck would you go out with a man who once tried to force himself on you?" he growled, pacing the room like a caged predator. "Let me guess—there’s more to this, isn’t there?"

Barefoot, he stepped onto the broken glass, but he didn’t even flinch. His madness had consumed him completely.

"Elijah, stop this! Just listen to me!" I pleaded, my voice shaking.

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his dark eyes blazing with fury.

"Shut the fuck up before I forget how much I love you," he spat, his words slicing through me like a knife.

I stood frozen, my throat dry, my entire body trembling.

"Are you planning to leave me for him? Is he more exciting than me?" His voice dripped with venom. Then, his gaze darkened further as he sneered, "Or did you spread your legs for him like the filthy slut you are?"

Tears welled in my eyes at his cruel accusation. My heart ached with betrayal. I love him. I love him with everything I have. And this… this is what I get in return? Insults? Humiliation?

"Stop it, Elijah!" I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady. "We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re sane."

But he only let out a humorless laugh. "So, it’s true, isn’t it?" he taunted. "You’re whoring yourself out to my Beta now because I couldn’t satisfy you?" His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip.

I gasped in pain, but before I could react, he yanked me against him. My bare feet stumbled over the shattered glass, and I screamed as the sharp edges cut into my skin.

Elijah’s grip on me tightened. His next words were barely a whisper, but they shattered me completely.

"If you’re going to act like an ungrateful bitch," he murmured, his breath fanning over my face, "then I don’t mind treating you like the slut you are."

His words pierced through my heart, deeper than any wound ever could.

Nothing—nothing in this world—could be crueler than hearing such vile accusations from the lips of the man I loved

"Do you think I’m a whore?" I demanded, grabbing his shirt. He glared at me, fury in his eyes, while the shards of glass underfoot sent pain through my body—but nothing compared to the pain of his words.

"Yes, I think you're a whore," he spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You went out with Mason without telling me. So, tell me, sweetheart, what does that make you?"

I stood frozen, his words cutting deep. "Okay, if that’s what you think..." I muttered, pulling off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor. I removed my bra and panties, standing before him, naked. If he saw me as a whore, I would give him exactly what he wanted.

"So, what do you want to do with this whore?" I asked, my voice shaking, the tears flowing uncontrollably. "Because whores are meant to be used, right?"

His gaze softened for a moment, and I saw the guilt flash across his face as he cursed under his breath.

"Tell me, Elijah," I continued, my voice trembling with bitterness. "What do you want me to do? Should I suck your dick? Or should I spread my legs for your pleasure? What’s your preference? I'll do anything for you because I’m the weak, pathetic woman who deserves this treatment. This is my punishment for loving you."

He stepped toward me, his expression a mixture of frustration and guilt.

"Stop this," he said, his voice cracking, realizing the depth of his actions.

"No," I snapped, forcing the words through my clenched teeth. "Tell me, master. What should I do for you? Because right now, I’m at your mercy."

Before I could say anything more, he pulled me to him, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. I couldn’t resist him, even though my heart was shattered from his earlier words. His tongue fought for dominance, and as a submissive, I let him kiss every inch of me, even though I hated myself for it.

People say women need to be strong, but they never tell you how to act when you're madly in love with someone who breaks you.

His hands roamed to my back, and then down to my hips, pulling me closer to him until there was no space between us. His chest collided with my breasts, and I couldn't hold back the tears. This man who was showing me love now was the same man who called me a slut earlier.

He stopped when he felt the tears fall, his lips parting with a sigh as he pulled away.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, cupping my cheek. "You’re the one who provoked me."

I jerked away from his touch. "Come and fuck me, Elijah. Is that all you want from me?" I said, my anger rising.

He closed his eyes, trying to control his emotions. When he opened them again, the rage had softened into something more vulnerable.

I screamed when another shard of glass cut into my foot, and Elijah glanced down, noticing the mess he’d created in my room.

"Shit," he cursed, lifting me into his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom. He gently sat me on the counter, but I struggled to move. One glare from him silenced me instantly. He carefully wiped the blood from my feet, cleaning the wound and bandaging it.

"Don’t you have the words to tell me you're hurt?" he asked, his voice soft, as he finished bandaging my feet.

"I’m hurting, Elijah," I said, my voice breaking. "But not just physically. You’ve bruised my heart."

He finished bandaging my feet and reached for a bathrobe, draping it over me to cover my body.

"This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just been honest with me," he muttered, dialing a number on his phone.

"Lily, come to Emma’s room and clean up this mess," he said. I could feel his gaze on me, but I refused to look at him. I was planning to give him the silent treatment for what he’d done to me.

"Are you really going to act like a child?" he asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

Still, I didn’t respond.

"Emma," he said more forcefully, raising my chin to force me to look at him. "Stop this fucking drama. You’re acting like a 10-year-old."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I looked into his eyes, seeing the love and care that had vanished moments ago.

"Baby, I love you," he said softly. "Please stop crying."

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. "You don’t love me," I choked out. "You called me a slut, accused me of sleeping with Mason behind your back. A few minutes ago, you were like Satan, and I was scared of what you might do to me."

His eyes softened with regret, but the damage had been done.