Page 33 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

“Hit me.”

My jaw drops open. My eyes search his face as he spreads his arms wide, exposing every inch of his chest without the slightest hint of hesitation.He can’t be serious.

“What?” I whisper, my voice shaking as the anger coursing through me threatens to take over. I don’t know if I understand what it is exactly that he’s saying.

“Hit me, Lennon. Take out your anger on me.”

He smacks his pec twice, the dull thud echoing through the silent gym.

“Come on, baby. Hit me. Show me how much you hate me. How much you hate my pack and what we did to you. Show me exactly how you feel about Alphas.”

He takes a step forward, closing what little distance remains between us before reaching out to give my shoulder the gentlest tap imaginable.

“You know you want to. Do you want me to say it, Lennon? Want me to tell you that I’m madly in love with you, and that I don’t care who knows it? Want me to fall to my fucking knees and tell you that I’m not giving up on us, because I’ll do it. Right fucking now, I’ll grovel. And I’ll beg. And prove to you just how fucking good this Beta can be for you? Or do you want to stand up and fucking hit me?” He’s goading me, his voice calm despite the storm he is deliberately inviting, but I don’t miss the pain in his tone.

No. I don’t want any of those things. I don’t want to hear him tell me he loves me. Because he doesn’t. You don’t hurt the people you love, especially not in the way he did. In the way his whole fucking pack did. Fuck him for thinking he could control me like that. To manipulate me into feeling these…feelings.To use my anger against me. And for what? An admission? A crack in my composure that could tell him I feel the same way too? Newsflash fuckhead, I don’t. And even if I did, it’s not enough to torture myself over. Because that’s exactly what I’d have to do to be with him. With them. I’d have to leave myself vulnerable in a way I swore I’d never be again.

The air catches in my lungs, my pulse roars inside my ears until I can’t hear anything else. I scream, the sound tearing itself from somewhere deep within me that barely sounds human, pulling back my fist and driving it directly in the center of his chest.

Leather collides with muscle. A sickening crack reverberates through my arm.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even rock backward, and it only fuels the rage threatening to consume me.

“Fuck you, Holden! Fuck you for what you did to me!”

My throat burns raw as I allow all of my anger to flow through my body. Hit after hit, I rain down on his body, every impact sending a sharp vibration back through my wrists until my hands ache beneath my gloves. The rhythmic thud of leather striking flesh fills the room. Again. Again. Again. Again.

His breathing grows heavier, while mine becomes ragged. Sweat clings to the back of my neck before rolling between my shoulder blades, the scent of leather, salt and exertion swallowing the room whole.

I allow my rage to consume me. To become something solid in my chest.

Something with weight.

Something that has lived beneath my ribs for months, poisoning every breath I take. That is, until the tears come. The motherfucking tears.

I had vowed that I wouldn’t cry any longer, but I can’t stop them. They blur my vision until Holden becomes nothing more than a dark silhouette standing patiently in front of me. The human punching bag doesn’t budge as I let it all out. I’m exhausted. Every muscle trembles beneath the weight of emotions I’ve spent so long trying to outrun.

“Shh. Shh, baby. I’ve got you,” Holden whispers, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin of my ear, his hard body holding me up as my own collapses into him.

His touch both relieves something inside of me, soothing an ache I didn’t realize I carried, all the while making it even more painful.

Throwing my gloves to the side, he picks me up, cradling me against the steady rise and fall of his chest as though I’m something precious instead of completely broken.

I clench my fist against my chest, the feel of his skin doing nothing to mask the unbearable pain threatening to send me under.

When will it fucking end?

Why is it that because I’m an Omega that I’m somehow an easy target for their bullshit? It would have been easier to have been a Beta. I wouldn’t be easy pickings for Alphas or men in general to fuck over.

I wouldn’t be the center of a pack.

I wouldn’t have been used or have become the solution to someone else’s biological instincts. I wouldn’t be forced to carry the burden of this all-consuming pain that tortures the very core of me no matter how much I fight.

My body has reached its limit. I can’t stop myself from slipping in and out of consciousness, fading beneath the crushing weight of emotional exhaustion until darkness quietly claims me.

Chapter Thirteen