Page 14 of Roaring Flames

I really, really hate myself.

Isabella stares at me for a long moment, and her eyes glimmer with so much pain that I almost take back the words. But I don’t. Because I’m an asshole and a coward and a leader. I need to do what’s best for my brothers and our mate—even if that means breaking all of our hearts in the process.

Tears well in her eyes, but just like before, they don’t fall. Her lower lip begins to tremble, though, despite her best efforts.

“Desiree?” she rasps out shakily. “As in, myfriendDesiree?”

I sneer. “Why do you think she wanted to be friends with you in the first place? No doubt scoping out the competition.”

I know that isn’t the truth—Desiree is as repulsed by us as we are by her and seems oddly entranced by Isabella—but something is broken inside of me. I just want everyone in this world to hurt because maybe that will heal something inside of me.

I’m a sick, twisted bastard.

Never claimed to be anything but.

“I see.” Isabella’s face goes carefully blank.

And I know then that I fucked up. I desperately wish I could take everything back and apologize for what I just said. There’ll be no coming back from this. She’ll never forgive me. My brothers will never forgive me.

Yet I don’t take the words back.

I don’t apologize.

I don’t say anything as she pushes past me and stalks out of the office, her little hands balled into fists and her chest heaving.

Christian stares at me, his eyes brimming with unfettered hatred, and a little piece of me dies inside. Or maybe I’m already dead inside. Who the fuck knows anymore?

“What the hell did you just do?” Christian breathes in horror.

But I don’t have an answer for him.

Because honestly? I don’t know what the hell I just did.

I just pray I made the right decision and my brothers will forgive me in the end.

Five

IZZY

Idon’t even notice Desiree until I practically plow into her.

“Woah there.” She places her hands on my shoulders in an attempt to steady me, then she pauses when she gets a good look at my face. Her brows crease, and a frown touches her lips.

Lips that Ashton and the others have probably tasted.

I feel dizzy and sick just thinking about it.

And I hate the fact that I have a reaction in the first place.

“Iz, are you okay?” she asks with concern.

Or, at least, I think it’s concern. Ashton’s words replay on a continuous loop in my head—a never-ending racetrack that I can’t escape from no matter how fast or far I run.

Is Desiree just using me to get close to the guys? Does she see me as competition? Why is there always this mentality that women need to compete against each other to win the affections of a man?

“Iz?” she repeats, squeezing my shoulders.

“D-don’t touch me.” I stumble back a step, and her arms fall to her sides as hurt flickers across her face.

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