Zander’s POV.
The anger inside me was alive, like a wild and dangerous animal clawing at my chest, refusing to be tamed or ignored. Every breath I took felt rough, as if the rage burning inside me was too big for my body to contain.
I stormed out of the suite, the door slamming behind me with enough force to make the walls shake, but even that wasn’t enough to quiet the fury boiling in my veins. The sound of the door felt hollow compared to the storm raging in my mind, a storm that no amount of slamming or shouting could calm.
Aria.
Her defiance was like a thorn lodged deep in my skin, impossible to ignore. The way she had looked at me with that smug little smile, accusing me of being jealous as if she had all the power in the world. The audacity she had to accept gifts from *Asher* of all people still made my hands clench into fists. I couldn’t stop replaying the way her face lit up when she read his card, the satisfied look in her eyes when she held those flowers. And worse, she hadn’t even tried to hide it. She had been so unapologetic, so bold, as if daring me to do something about it. Even now, I could still see the satisfaction on her face when I smashed that mirror.
I wanted to throw something again, to break something else, to let out the roar that had been building in my chest since we fought. I wanted to make sure that everyone in this goddamn resort knew just how close I was to losing control. The anger wasn’t just in my mind-it was in my blood, in my wolf, in every part of me. But instead of giving in to the urge, instead of letting myself explode, I forced my feet to carry me to the poolside bar. My hands gripped the edge of the counter with so much strength that my knuckles turned white, the tension in my body threatening to snap.
The bartender approached me cautiously, his steps slow and his eyes wary, probably sensing the storm that was brewing around me. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting for me to speak. “Whiskey,” I said sharply, my voice rough and clipped, the single word carrying all the weight of my frustration.
He nodded quickly, clearly not wanting to upset me further. He poured the amber liquid into a glass and set it down in front of me without a word, his movements careful as if afraid I might lash out. I grabbed the glass and downed it in one swift motion, the burn of the alcohol doing little to cool the fire inside of me. For a second, I welcomed the heat in my throat-it was better than the rage tearing me apart from the inside.
I slammed the glass back onto the counter, the sound sharp and loud enough to make the bartender flinch. “Another,” I barked, not looking at him as I stared straight ahead, my thoughts still tangled in knots.
The bartender hesitated, his hands hovering over the bottle, but when he glanced at me and saw the look on my face, he quickly refilled my glass. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were handling a ticking bomb that could go off at any second.
He wasn’t wrong. The truth was, I *was* a bomb, seconds away from detonating. Aria’s words were like a spark, replaying in my mind over and over again. Each one hit harder than the last, cutting deeper, leaving wounds I couldn’t ignore.
*You rejected me.*
*You don’t care about me.*
*You’re jealous.*
Jealous.
The word echoed in my mind, sharp and biting, refusing to leave me alone. I growled under my breath, my wolf snarling in agreement from somewhere deep inside me. Maybe she was right. Maybe I *was* jealous. But it wasn’t just about Asher. It wasn’t just about the flowers or the soup or the way she smiled when she read his note. It was everything.
Aria had a way of getting under my skin like no one else ever had. She was reckless, stubborn, and infuriating in ways I didn’t even know were possible. But she was also…
No. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t let myself feel anything for her. I had spent too long building walls around myself, too long convincing myself that this marriage was nothing more than a duty, a necessity. Letting myself feel anything for her would only complicate things, and complications were the last thing I needed.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice someone approaching me until her voice cut through the haze like a knife.
“Zander.”
I turned my head, and there she was-Lyra.
Her golden hair shimmered under the sunlight, cascading over her shoulders in soft, perfect waves that only added to her polished appearance. She wore a fitted white dress that hugged her curves like it had been made for her, and her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she walked toward me. Everything about her screamed elegance and confidence, like she was a queen who knew exactly what she wanted.
“What do you want, Lyra?” I asked flatly, turning back to my drink. My voice was cold, indifferent, but I knew it wouldn’t stop her. Lyra was never one to take no for an answer.
She smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that was meant to disarm me, to charm me. “I saw you leave the suite in a hurry,” she said smoothly, her tone sweet but with an edge I couldn’t ignore. “Thought you might need… company.”
Her words were carefully chosen, her tone calculated, but I wasn’t in the mood for her games. Lyra was always playing games, always scheming, and I didn’t have the patience for it tonight. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, taking another sip of whiskey and refusing to look at her.
“Are you?” she asked, sliding onto the stool beside me like she belonged there. Her movements were graceful, controlled, and her eyes sparkled with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “Because it doesn’t look like it,” she continued, her voice softer now, almost teasing. “You seem… tense.”
I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I stared straight ahead.
She leaned in closer, the scent of her perfume wrapping around me like a noose. It was sweet and cloying, too much, and it only added to my irritation. “Come on, Zander,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Talk to me. You used to tell me everything.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said sharply, setting my glass down with more force than necessary.
“But it doesn’t have to be,” she murmured, her voice softening in a way that was meant to be comforting. “We were good together, weren’t we?”