The Golden One

I Hate You

"You keep lying to me!" I scream at Ayoke, my face still blood spattered and my hand stained red.

"I couldn't tell you, Meila. You had to make a choice after Christopher's death. And you chose to save everyone over your desire to kill Damien. If you had killed him on the battlefield, we would have lost. It would have doomed us all."

Ayoke, Carl, Michael and I stand in my office. Ayoke shakes with fear, Carl stares blankly out of the window as his tears fall and Michael is his infuriatingly calm self. But me? I can't pick an emotion.

I'm heartbroken at the loss of my mate, I'm furious at the lies and deceit that continue to circle me, I'm disappointed in myself and my actions in killing Damien in the heat of the moment and I'm resentful that I've had to endure all of this to end up alone. And it all rolls together in an infinite rage consuming me.

If I kill Ayoke, will that make me feel better? If I slaughter all of the members of The Elite in our cells, will that make me feel better?

The dangerous thoughts dance around my mind, and that sickening smirk that crossed Damien's smug face every time I saw him starts to twitch at my own mouth.

What have I become?

As I continue to threateningly creep closer to Ayoke, her body shaking in my shadow, a large hand gently strokes at my arm. A once calming touch has my body reacting so negatively, the fire inside now in control.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I whip around, my voice filled with disdain. Everyone in the room flinches at my volume and in another situation, I'd be disgusted in myself. But not today.

Michael looks heartbroken as I know my face is contorted into some disgusted expression. Words start to form in my throat and I know I should choke them back, but they force their way up like word vomit.

"I wasted my time with him because of you. I held back from him because of you. And now he's gone. Are you happy now?! Are you fucking happy now?!" I point and scream my disgusting words at him. I know they're wrong but my control has gone, ripped away just as my mate was ripped away from me.

"Meila— I—" His mouth stumbles open searching for words, his eyes becoming glassy as he blinks furiously.

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. Don't you fucking dare! I could've had so much more with him if it wasn't for you. I hate you! I hate you!" I continue screaming as Michael stands in front of me, mouth wide and tears now rolling down his cheeks.

My legs begin to buckle under me as my head pounds with all of the emotion. Carl steps in and pulls me tight into his chest. I sob heavily, tugging at his sweater trying to support myself. He smells faintly like Christopher, not the real deal but almost a whisper of his scent, and that makes it hurt so much more.

"I want him back! I want my Christopher back!" I screech into his chest but it's muffled by my sobs and his muscles. He strokes at me softly trying to calm me.

"Shhh. I know. I do too. Shhh." He coos at me while his own tears fall. More muffled statements fall from my mouth as Carl just holds me, letting me spill everything out on him. He strokes, hushes and coos until I find it hard to stand without his arms holding me up. As my body begins to go limp, he picks me up and walks me from the room. As we leave, I catch a glimpse of Michael. His tears still falling and his hand clutching at his chest. I've broken him yet again.

Carl drops me down outside our bedroom. My bedroom. He needs to rest and process this loss and realistically so do I. We silently nod before he turns and leaves.