Aurora’s POV

​The air in the room was thick and heavy, smelling of sweat and the fading scent of whiskey. As he pushed into me one last time, his body went rigid. He buried his face in the crook of my shoulder, his breath hitching in a way that felt far too human for a monster.

​"I’ve got you, my Aurora," he whispered against my skin, his voice cracking with a raw, broken tenderness. "I’ve always got you."

​I froze. My heart stopped beating for a full second. That specific phrase—the way his voice dropped on the ’my’—it was exactly how Oliver spoke to me when the world felt too heavy. The blindfold made it worse; in the darkness, the man holding me wasn’t a masked killer. He was my Alpha. He was my home.

​For a heartbeat, I almost whispered, Oliver? But then he pulled away, the bed creaking as he shifted, and the cold reality rushed back. Oliver was at the packhouse, probably hating me. This was Raymond. This was the man who had destroyed my life.

​He didn’t speak. He didn’t immediately move to take off the silk tie over my eyes. I heard him sit at the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress tilt. He sounded exhausted, his breathing slow and heavy.

​I felt his fingers at the back of my head, untying the silk tie. When the blindfold fell away, the dim red light of the room stung my eyes. I blinked, my vision blurry as I looked at him.

​He was sitting with his back to me, his broad shoulders slumped. He was fully dressed, and the mask was still on, but he looked... small. Not like the invincible Alpha I had just fought with. He looked like a man carrying the weight of the world, staring at his hands as if he didn’t recognize them.

​I sat up, pulling the sheets to cover my chest, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room.

​I looked wrecked. My skin was flushed, covered in faint red marks from his hands and the bite marks on my neck. My hair was a bird’s nest, and the bandage on my temple was hanging by a thread. I looked like a woman who had been thoroughly claimed.

​A wave of pure, concentrated self-loathing crashed over me.

​I hadn’t just endured him for the mission. I hadn’t just "played along" to kill him. For those few minutes on the bed, I had wanted him. I had kissed him back with a hunger that made me a traitor to my family, to my brother, and to Oliver.

​I felt sick.

​"I... I need to go to the bathroom," I whispered, my voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger.

​He didn’t look back. He just gave a slight nod.

​I scrambled off the bed, my legs shaking as I hurried toward the ensuite. The moment I closed the door and locked it, I collapsed against the cold tile. I didn’t turn on the light. I just sat there in the dark, my face in my hands, and let the first sob break through.

​I hate him. I really do... But as I tasted the salt of my own tears and the lingering taste of his kiss on my lips, I realized I was losing the war within myself.

​I sat there on the floor, the tiles chilling my skin, but I welcomed the cold. I needed it to numb the heat still burning in my veins. My mind was a mess. I had just broken things off with Oliver—the man who was supposed to be my everything—and less than an hour later, I was losing myself to this monster. And the worst part? I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the way he took me, the way he claimed me. I was a traitor to my own blood.

​I kept crying, my sobs muffled by my hands as I lost control. I was drowning in the shame of my own body’s betrayal.

​Then, a sharp knock on the door made me jump.

​"Aurora."

​It was Raymond. I had totally forgotten he was still in the suite; I had assumed he’d be gone by now, back to whatever dark corner he crawled out of.

​"Open the door," he said. His voice was strangely gentle, lacking the harsh edge from earlier.

​"No," I choked out, wiping my eyes. "Leave me alone."

​I didn’t want to see him. I couldn’t look at that mask and know that I had just kissed him with everything I had.

​"Aurora, open it," he said, his voice dropping into a command, becoming more firm. "Open it, or I’ll break it down. And believe me, you won’t like what I do next if I have to force my way in."

​Left with no other choice, I stood up on shaky legs and turned the lock. I opened the door just a crack, but he pushed it open the rest of the way. He stood there, his green eyes staring at me through the mask, softening as they took in my red, swollen face.

​"If you hate this so much," he started, leaning against the doorframe, "if you hate what you’re doing, then why are you here? Why come back to me?"

​I stayed silent, my throat too tight to speak.

​"I freed you," he continued, his gaze intense. "I gave you the choice to walk away. I let you go. So why do you keep coming back to this room? Why do you keep choosing me?"

​How could I tell him the truth? How could I say that I was only here because I needed his heart to stop beating?

​I didn’t respond. I just looked down at my feet, feeling small and broken.

​When I didn’t answer, he let out a heavy sigh. He turned toward the large, sunken bathtub in the center of the bathroom and began to turn the gold faucets. The sound of rushing water filled the silence.

​"Get into the tub," he said.

​"No," I said, pulling my robe tighter around me. "I’m fine. I’m going home."

​Raymond turned back to me, his presence suddenly filling the small space. "You are my submissive tonight, Aurora. And believe me, I have not been treating you with any aftercare. I was rough, and I was angry. You’re bruised, and you’re shaking."

​He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me.

​"I’m not asking," he ordered, his voice returning to that dominant Alpha tone. "Get in the water. I’m going to clean you up, and then you’ll eat something before I take you home."