Page 40 of My Brutal Alpha

She didn't deserve to be cornered by me, and she certainly didn't deserve to be embarrassed and rejected by my parents like that.

I wanted her to know that their opinions didn't matter to me. What they were demanding of me didn't matter either.

I didn't give a damn. I just wanted her.

When they still didn't move, the last of my restraint snapped, and I snarled at them, "Get out!"

Mom flinched then, eyes wide at the realization that I was serious, and surely from noticing I wasn't that same meek kid anymore. I wasn't going to be pushed around, regardless of what they had to say.

With that fury surrounding me, I felt the shift threatened beneath the edges of my resolve. My voice reverberated loud enough within the room to shake them both.

"Get out of my house and get the hell away from my grounds. Now!"

Mom was the first to stand, looking afraid of me. Then she reached for Dad and pulled him up. Even while he stood, he kept his gaze firmly on me, his expression set.

As they started to leave, Dad paused in front of me, brows just barely furrowed as he stared at me. His tone was quiet despite the clear anger in his eyes.

"You will regret this," he warned, voice clipped. "When you come to your senses, you know where to find us."

At my wit's end with them, tired of their threats, I held back a growl in my chest. I glared down at him, just barely maintaining my self-restraint. Leaning slightly closer to him, I uttered, low and cold, "Leave."

With a hint of reluctance, Dad pulled away when Mom tugged on his arm again, and with all their judgment following behind them, they slipped out the front door.

Once it slammed shut and I was left alone, I stood in the living room, grappling with my anger and that sense of helplessness that pulsed in my chest.

I was furious, and a part of me wanted to run out after Zoe, but the longer I waited, the less able I felt to do that. I had the feeling she needed her space, regardless of how badly I wanted to be near her. To get a read on her thoughts and feelings and to try and make amends for what my parents did.

As that anger shifted within me, becoming infiltrated by my guilt, I couldn't bring myself to leave.

Torn between just walking away and wanting to make things better, I found myself in a state of paralysis, and eventually, I could only drop myself onto the couch again.

I wanted her to come back. We had been making strides in getting along and returning to how we used to be before I screwed everything up.

Even if I had never been one to get too emotional or read too deeply into that kind of thing, there was no running from that ache within me. I could try to be as passive and ignorant as I wanted, but the way the mate bond seemed to writhe and panic within me wasn't something I could get over.

I hated the thought of hurting her.

There was no doubt I did, and it wasn't the first time either. I had a habit of doing so, apparently, and it only made the pain feel worse.

On one hand, I knew she didn't need to keep going through that cycle of dealing with me. I couldn't keep hurting her just because I couldn't get a grip on my self-doubt and inability to be what she needed. I wanted to spare her from all of my shit.

But on the other, I wanted her. Needed her. I would be an idiot to deny how badly I needed her near me again, to know she was alright, and to know she could forgive me, even if I didn't deserve it.

She deserved better than me, yet I was selfish enough to want her to never leave.

After some time, when the wait and agony became too much, I pulled my phone out and clicked on our messages.

I felt pathetic all the while my thumbs moved across the screen, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know that she was at least safe.

Before I could think too much about it, I sent the text and stared at the screen for far longer than I should've.

When my eyes ached from looking at the chat and not seeing any messages from her, I eventually put the phone down and scrubbed my face with my hand.

I hated feeling that way and not knowing where she was or how she was doing.

Some time passed, and as dusk shifted to pure darkness, my phone remained silent. No messages from Zoe appeared, regardless of how hard I wished they would.

Another hour later, the faint creak of the door opening forced my head up from against the back of the couch. Without missing a beat, I got up and stood there somewhat awkwardly as Zoe entered the room.

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