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He’d never given a shit about me before. Why was he now acting like I was his precious child that he would do anything to protect from these self-centered lunatics that had a vendetta against him?
A few vendettas to be honest.
There was so much that I didn't know, and that was exactly why I needed Viktor to start collecting information for me. I normally sat out of these silly disagreements of powerplay, but if I was going to suddenly be a target, I’d best make sure I protected myself, for my father would be far too late to save me if he actually tried.
I wouldn't dare rely on him anyways. I'm sure he would rather I die so he'd have an excuse to mourn while finding anyone who could give birth to his male heir.
"I'll do what I can," Viktor assured me. "Hang tight."
I didn't answer, knowing he'd hang up the next second, which he did.
With a sigh, I tossed the phone onto the bed before allowing myself to return to my female appearance. I purposely stood there naked, before walking to the mirror as I commanded the TV back on to listen to the updates.
My eyes scanned my body from my breasts to my hips, and the lingering bites and hickeys left on my flesh thanks to Onyx. Viewing my image didn't rid me of my anxiety as I bit my lip and wished to be back at my own place.
At least my place was my safe place. The area where I knew exactly where everything was and could defend myself in every way possible. In a clean place like this, anything could be hidden, and that rattled my nerves.
"Another new trend is pink hair! Oddly enough, it looks as though many females, particularly of Caucasian descent, have started the trend of dying their hair pink. This predicament began due to one of the believed executive workers for the De Lucas, known for her barbie pink hair. Many also believe it’s due to the son of Roberto De Luca, William, carrying the similar colored strands in his flawless appearance for years. It seems like the perfect time to initiate the trend as William De Luca has been on the trending page of all social media outlets for a week straight since being seen with newly titled billionaire, Dimitris Moore."
I slowly lifted my head up to view the images of women who were desperate to look exactly like me. I bit my lip hard, trying to ignore their happy smiles and eyes, obviously covered with contacts, as they tried to mimic my natural turquoise teal eyes.
My teeth sank deeper into my lip until I could taste the blood as the images and videos continued to flicker on the screen.
None of them knew the reason for these pink locks. They didn’t know the desperation that gripped my soul and the spiked desire for change that resulted in me implementing the girlie color that had become my new identity.
This was my way of coping. My way of proving that no matter the color of my hair, I wouldn't be judged. Just like it didn’t matter if I carried a wolf within me or not.
I stared into my reflection and I could only see the hatred in my eyes that welled with tears. The frustration and pain that cloaked my expression as I remembered those times of heartache and fear. They dared mock this image of me that saved me from the claws of death.
This strong being who cloaked the white strands that multiplied due to the intense stress I endured while the shackles of silver burned my flesh and I screamed for mercy until my voice faded away.
How dare they mock me. Mock...us.
The voice in my head was nothing but true in her declaration that ignited a level of anger I only experienced in the heart of the ring. My fist lifted up and I punched through the glass mirror that cracked into multiple pieces at my strike.
Blood began to ooze out of my wounds, but the pain reminded me that I was alive. That I was a survivor and no one could dare try to take my place. They couldn’t replicate the agony I’d suffered through these years of abandonment.
They knew nothing!
I tried to punch the mirror again, but arms wrapped around me, which made me grunt and fight against them. It was pointless as they lifted me up, their shadowed body still taking shape, but I already knew who had me in their grasp.
"Fuck off, Onyx!" I snapped in rage, wishing to be out of this place and back home.
I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home!
"Willow," Onyx's voice soothingly whispered in my ear as he loosened his hold enough for me to spin around and somehow knock him onto the bed. He didn't seem too shocked by my swift movement or behavior, but his eyes showed a flicker of shock when my eyes locked onto his and my tears left their safe haven to drop onto his cheeks.
"How dare they try and copy me?" I hissed. "They don't know shit. They know nothing about my motives and why I wear these strands with pride. Why I have this tattoo or the reason I keep myself fit. I wear the clothes that represent me and yet they think a box of dye will make them even close to who I am?" I clawed at his chest until he was literally bleeding, but he didn't stop me as more tears flowed down my cheeks. "I want to go home. To the space I can control. Or I'll destroy them all. I'll find every single individual who got me into this damn predicament and turn their lives upside down. I’ll kill their families. I'll ruin their relationships. They'll feel my wrath for dare trying to steal the control I carry in the palms of my hands."
I knew I was overreacting, but I could’t seem to stop myself. I acted as though this week wasn't tense, but after the meeting with the Forbidden pack followed with the assassins, I’d had my share of chaos for the day.
Onyx finally stopped me by putting his hands on my hips and pressing his groin against my entrance. I narrowed my eyes further at him, but it was enough to cut through my wild rage as the room around us suddenly changed until we were lying upon my bed.
My black sheets. My penthouse suite. My space. Safe haven. The place that's within my control.
As if I didn't believe it, I reached beneath the pillow under his head, pulling out the pink knife I kept for defending myself. He watched me but was completely relaxed as he kept his hands where I knew they'd remain until I calmed down: on my hips.
He continued his silence as I twirled the blade in my possession, lowering it until it was at his neck before moving it down to a certain part of his chest. My claw marks were horrible and I felt a pinch of discomfort for hurting him, but I found the perfect set of lines for my creation as I suddenly began to carve in his very flesh until a heart was reflected back at me in blood and W + O was written in the center.
