The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 12: The Destroyer called Love

​Oliver’s POV

​"What do you want?" she asked. Her voice was firm, but I could smell the sharp, metallic tang of fear rolling off her. She was trying to act high and mighty, but her hands were trembling.

​Ignoring her defensive posture, I reached out and handed her the jacket she’d left tangled in the passenger seat. "You forgot this in my car."

​"Oh," she murmured, snatching the fabric from me. Her fingers brushed mine for a split second, and the spark that jumped between us nearly made me snarl.

"Her Scent," my wolf growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration inside my head. "Take her. Claim her now, make her scream our name."

Unable to stand it any longer, I turned away and made my way back to my car.

"Coward," my wolf spat as I slammed the door.

​As I drove away, I slammed my palm against the steering wheel. I was angry for no reason—or rather, I was angry because that woman was a complication I hadn’t prepared for.

​When I pulled into the packhouse garage, I noticed Cassey’s car was already parked there. She was the daughter of one of the Alphas from a powerful pack—and my longest-standing submissive. We’d been bound by contract for over two years. We attended functions together, and people often mistook us for a couple. But we weren’t. Never had been. Ours was a Dominant–submissive arrangement. Nothing more.

​My jaw tightened at her presence; I didn’t send for her. I walked upstairs, the heavy thud of my boots echoing through the hallway, and found her in my bedroom. She was lounging on the bed, watching a live show, but she muted it the second I walked in.

​"I’ve been calling you for hours," she said, her voice laced with that needy annoyance she always carried.

​"I was busy," I replied coldly, heading straight for the closet. "I didn’t check my phone."

​"Where were you?" she demanded, sitting up. She stared at my black hair, my eyes, and the black mask in my hand. She didn’t need an explanation—she knew I’d gone undercover.

​"Somewhere," I muttered, grabbing a towel.

​"Somewhere like where?" she snapped. It was obvious she knew I was coming from a BDSM club. "You have me, Oliver. Why do you have to go there?" she spat.

​That was the breaking point. I turned on her, my eyes darkening with a cold rage that made her flinch.

​"How dare you?" I said, my angry voice echoing off the walls of the room. "How dare you throw questions at me in my own home?"

​"I wasn’t—"

​"Don’t talk when I’m talking!" I barked. She shivered, her eyes wide with terror as she bit her lip. "You’ve grown wings, haven’t you? Just because I’ve given you privileges in this house, you think you can walk in here and interrogate me? This will be the last time you try something like this. Understood?"

​She nodded frantically, avoiding my gaze. I left her standing there and went into the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes, ripped the green contacts from my eyes, and stood under the freezing spray of the shower.

​I tried to focus elsewhere, but my thoughts kept drifting to Aurora.

​I stepped out, tied the towel around my waist, and walked back into the bedroom. Cassey was already there, kneeling on the floor in nothing but her lace panties, her head bowed in a submissive pose.

​I felt nothing but irritation. I went to the mini-bar, poured a glass of whiskey, and sat on the couch, ignoring her.

​"What is the meaning of this?" I asked, my voice dry.

​"Punish me, Master," she whispered. "I did wrong today."

​Any other night, that submissive tone would have had my blood boiling. But tonight, my body was cold. My mind was still back at that apartment, thinking about Aurora’s panic attack and the way she’d looked at me with such pure, unadulterated hate.

​"Put on your clothes and go to bed. I’m not in the mood," I muttered flatly, taking a long sip of the whiskey.

​Cassey looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. This was the first time I had ever rejected her. "Please, Master. If you punish me, I can sleep knowing you’ve forgiven me."

​"I’ve already forgotten about it," I said, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass. "Go to bed, Cassey. Stop asking questions."

​"But—"

​"It’s an order."

​She scrambled up and climbed into the bed, silent and obedient. I stayed on the couch, staring into the amber liquid of my glass. Aurora was becoming a threat to my focus. Even my wolf was obsessed, and the only way to silence him was to have her.

​For hours I remained seated on the couch. Even Cassey couldn’t sleep; she could tell I wasn’t myself tonight, but she dared not ask. She knew she didn’t have the right to ask.

​I stepped out onto the balcony, the freezing night air doing little to cool the fire in my veins. I pulled a cigarette from my silver case, clicking my lighter. The orange glow illuminated the darkness for a split second before I exhaled a long, steady stream of smoke into the air.

​I wasn’t like other men. I didn’t believe in the fairy tales of fated mates or the poison they called love. Love is a structural flaw, a great weakness that can pull the strongest man down until he’s nothing but a puppet on a string. I had a front-row seat to that destruction. I saw what it did to my father; I saw how he became a hollow shadow of himself for years, all because he fell for the wrong woman—my mother. He had been a formidable King, and she reduced him to a man who couldn’t even look at his own reflection.

​I flicked the ash over the railing, my eyes narrowing. Never. I had sworn to myself that no woman would ever hold that kind of power over me. My heart was a fortress, and I intended to keep it that way.

​My thoughts drifted back to Aurora, her face etched with that defiant, beautiful hate. I sighed, the smoke curling around my head. I knew exactly what this was. It wasn’t love; it was the thrill of the hunt. It was the primal urge to chase what is hard to get. Aurora was a puzzle I hadn’t solved, a lock I hadn’t picked. She was a challenge to my authority, and my wolf hated being told no.

​I convinced myself that once I’d had her—once I’d tasted her a time or two—this obsession would vanish. She would become just like Cassey: a contract, someone I could dismiss with a single word.

​I finished the cigarette and crushed it under my heel.

​I walked back into the room, ignoring Cassey’s wide, watchful eyes as she lay stiffly on the bed. I didn’t go to her. I went back to the couch and closed my eyes, but the face of a certain red-haired girl refused to leave my head.