Page 95 of Toxic

But I also felt the need to defend Skye.

"Skye was really good, and he learned quickly. Your family’s definitely got talent."

Winter snorted slightly. "Our company doesn’t employ a single alpha, and we don’t plan to change that. They’re always a liability, creating an unhealthy atmosphere in the workplace," he said, his tone icy.

I stared at him, a bit shocked. The way he casually dropped such a gender-biased comment, especially about his own relative, was really jarring. Skye's brothers, though descended from True Mates' parents, didn't seem to get along too well—at least not when it came to personalities.

The convo with Winter could’ve ended badly because I was getting worked up, ready to jump even more in Skye’s defense, but at the last second, I decided to change the subject. I didn’t want to reveal what I actually thought about Skye, as it could lead to more in-depth questions, and I definitely didn’t want to seem like I disagreed with my new boss. But the thought of working with Skye’s full-blooded brother made me feel uneasy in a way I couldn’t quite shake.

Thankfully, Winter didn’t seem interested in talking about Skye either. He quickly moved on to another topic.

He assigned me a lot of work, and honestly, I was grateful. I could stay buried in tasks, drown out my emotions.

Over the next few days, I threw myself into programming projects, meetings with colleagues, and discussions about new plans.

But all of that felt like it was just happening on the surface of my life.

During the day, I could keep up the façade while I was at the office, but it felt like I was holding my breath the entire time. The moment I left work, it all came crashing down—this whole charade of pretending.

Liam, who also got a job at DevApp but in a different department, worked on the upper floor. We only saw each other during lunch in the company cafeteria and then on the way home in the parking lot. He was the only one who saw how my fake energy drained out of me the second the car doors closed. My face would fall into a permanent grimace, and my eyes would just stare blankly into space.

***

Days passed, and the pain still didn't go away. It felt like an open wound that wouldn’t heal, like something was constantly pulling at my heart, like there was a string wrapped around it, yanking me back toward Skye.

Every day felt like a small nightmare that I only survived by clenching my jaw and fists, fighting for every breath, fighting for at least one brief moment when it didn’t hurt so much. Then I’d sit down at my computer and write another email:

"Day 16 since I told you to leave. Skye, I beg for your forgiveness. Please, please forgive me. What I did was the biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect myself, but I ended up doomed to the torment of a life without you. Please, please give me a chance…"

Another week would go by, with nothing changing. The only difference was that Liam seemed to be hovering closer and closer, sitting next to me, hugging me more often, even for trivial reasons. But his hugs didn’t comfort me. They just made me feelscared and stressed. Sometimes, his kindness even irritated me—cooking for me, taking care of all the household chores while I lay in bed, struggling with this relentless, gnawing pain that was tearing at my soul. I hated it all!

Then I’d sit down again and write another email, chaotic, incoherent:

"Day 20 since I told you to leave. I don’t even know if you’re reading this anymore. I’ve lost faith that you are. Maybe I didn’t explain something that could’ve been important to you. I didn’t do anything with Don. The moment we walked away from you, I told him to get lost. He was pissed and called me the worst slut he’d ever fucked—a little honesty at the end, like a cherry on top. But I want you to know that I didn’t do anything with him. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t. Please, you have to believe me. I couldn’t do that, not with him, not to you! It was really the worst idea to even use Don like that, to hurt you…"

Another week of this ghastly existence passed, but the pain didn’t go away, and Liam kept getting closer and closer.

He started coming to me in the evenings, lying next to me under the pretense of wanting to talk. We’d chat about all kinds of meaningless stuff. I gradually stopped bringing up Skye because I noticed it triggered some nervous, almost compulsive behavior in Liam. He’d grab my hands and yank me lightly, as if trying to shake Skye out of my head, or he’d hold my face in his hands and insist I’d made the right decision, speaking in an increasingly tense and agitated tone.

So, I finally stopped unloading on him about how much it hurt and how I couldn’t bear another day. But it was tearing me apart inside.

Then, in secret from Liam, I’d sit down and write another email:

"Day 30 since I told you to leave, Skye. I’m losing hope that you’ll ever write back. I’ve lost you. I made a mistake, and nowI have to pay for it. Liam is pushing more and more—not with words, but I can tell he wants something from me that I can’t give. I’m in a tough spot. I don’t know what to do. Please, reach out. Please, help me. We still have a chance, we still have a chance…"

Another week went by, and finally, Liam couldn’t hold back anymore.

One day, he was lying next to me, and we were chatting about the latest project when he suddenly reached out and brushed my cheek. Then he said, "I didn’t want to bring this up before because I could see how much you were struggling, but I’m struggling too—with what I feel for you. You know I’ve been in love with you for years, right? I’ve been waiting for you, believing that someday we could be together… Please, Soren, give me a chance. I’m begging you, don’t push me away. I’m begging you for just one small chance…"

I gasped because I was so shocked. Of course, I knew he wanted this, but hearing him actually say it out loud made it feel so much more real and heavy because I knew what it would mean for me.

"Give me a few more weeks, Liam. I need to pull myself together, and then we can talk about this again," I managed to choke out. I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded and assured me that he’d wait as long as I needed.

That day, I wrote to Skye:

"35 days since I told you to leave. Liam is pressuring me to be with him. I’m terrified because he’s not who I want. Please forgive me, please come back to me…"

Another week passed, and Liam’s hovering intensified even more. By this time, we were sleeping in the same bed—not by my choice, but because he kept coming and staying, falling asleep next to me. He even started taking my hand when we got out ofthe car and walked to the company building, shyly at first, then more deliberately.

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