Ethan’s POV

​I stood at the edge of the bed, my cock twitching under the new layer of latex, fueled by a dark, relentless adrenaline. This wasn’t just sex; it was an execution of my old self. I grabbed her ankles and yanked her body toward me until her ass was hanging off the edge of the mattress.

​"Wrap your legs around me," I ordered.

​She obeyed instantly, locking her ankles behind my lower back. I stepped into her, the head of my cock stretching her open before I slammed home. I didn’t just enter her; I invaded her. The force of the impact made her upper body bounce on the bed, her breasts swaying violently as she let out a shattered, breathless scream.

​I began to fuck her with a raw, savage intensity, my hands gripping the underside of her thighs so hard my knuckles turned white. Every thrust was deep, bottoming out against her cervix with a dull thud that I could feel in my own bones. I wanted to be so deep inside her that there was no room left for the ghost of Scarlett to breathe.

​"Fuck, you’re so deep... you’re stretching me so much," she whimpered, her fingers clawing at the silk sheets.

​I didn’t slow down. I increased the pace, my hips moving in a blur of friction and wet heat. The sound was filthy—the loud, wet slapping of my groin against her ass and the high-pitched keening coming from her throat. I reached down, my hand finding her clit and pinning it against my pubic bone as I drove into her, grinding my weight forward with every agonizingly perfect stroke.

​Her pussy was soaking wet, creamed with her own lust and the friction of our bodies. I could feel her beginning to tremble, her internal walls spasming and tightening around me in a desperate, rhythmic grip.

​"Look at me," I rasped, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. I wanted her to see the emptiness in my eyes. I wanted her to know that she was nothing but a vessel for my rage.

​She looked up, her eyes rolled back and glazed with pleasure, and that was when I broke her. I ramped up the speed, my thrusts becoming shorter and more violent, hitting her G-spot over and over again. She began to wail, her body jerking under mine as she hit a massive, toe-curling climax. Her pussy clamped down on me like a vice, milk-warm and pulsing, trying to draw the life out of me.

​The sensation was too much. I felt the pressure in my gut explode. I didn’t pull out. I drove into her one last time, pinning her legs against the bed as I let out a guttural, animalistic roar. I came so hard it felt like my soul was leaving my body, my cock pulsing inside her as I filled the condom to its limit.

​I stayed buried in her for a long minute, my forehead resting against hers as we both fought for air. The room smelled of sweat, latex, and raw, meaningless sex. Slowly, I pulled out, the wet shlick sound echoing in the silence.

​I didn’t say a word. I didn’t offer a hug or a thank you. I walked to the bathroom, stripped off the condom, and turned on the shower. As the hot water hit my skin, I tried to wash away the feeling of her—and the feeling of Scarlett. But as the steam filled the room, I realized that no matter how hard I fucked or how deep I went, I was still the same man. Empty, bitter, and still haunted by a woman who belonged to another.

​Moments later, I walked back into the room, a towel wrapped around my waist, the steam from the shower still clinging to my skin. The young lady was already dressed, smoothing out her skirt as she stood by the bed. She turned to me with a smirk, her eyes scanning my body with lingering hunger.

​"You were... so much more than I expected," she said, her voice dropping to a seductive tone. She stepped closer, her gaze settling on the ink across my chest and arms. "You’re a wolf, right? I can feel the heat coming off you."

​I already knew she was human—her scent was flat, lacking the depth of a shifter. I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk, and I certainly didn’t want to be analyzed. I walked to my dresser, pulled a thick bundle of cash from the drawer, and stretched it out toward her.

​She looked at the money, then back at me, shaking her head. "No... it wasn’t about the money, Alpha. You know that."

​"I insist," I said, my voice like iron.

​She sighed and took the cash, fanning it out and smelling the crisp scent of the notes. "Seems like you’re on a business trip here. If you don’t mind, I can warm your bed while you’re in town. I think we both know I can handle whatever... mood... you’re in."

​"That is not needed," I replied, turning away to grab a shirt. "Because I’m leaving."

​She looked genuinely disappointed, her shoulders slumping for a split second before she regained her composure. She walked toward the door, stopping just before the handle. She turned back one last time, her eyes narrowing as she looked at my cold, distant expression.

​"Whatever woman broke your heart," she said softly, "she’s insane. To have a man like you and let go? She’s a fool."

​I frowned, the muscle in my jaw ticking. The comment cut through my armor faster than I expected, and she obviously noticed the flash of pain in my eyes. She just blew me a kiss, a small, knowing smile on her lips, and reached for the handle.

​"Have a nice life, Alpha," she said, pulling the door open.

​The smile vanished from her face instantly. She froze, stepping back in surprise.

​Standing right there, her hand raised as if she were seconds away from knocking, was Scarlett. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale, and the sight of another woman walking out of my bedroom in the middle of the night turned her expression into one of pure, shattered shock.

​The silence that followed was deafening. The girl looked at Scarlett, then back at me, a smirk returning to her face as she realized exactly who the "insane woman" was. She didn’t say a word; she just brushed past Scarlett and disappeared into the hallway.

​Scarlett didn’t move. Her gaze dropped to my bare chest, then to the rumpled sheets of the bed behind me, and finally up to my eyes.

​"Ethan..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

​I stood my ground, my face blank, though my heart was screaming. I didn’t reach for her. I didn’t offer an explanation. I just stood there in the wreckage of my room and waited for her to realize that I was done pursuing her.