𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐄|✔︎

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Mr. Joker.

2 hours to the attack.

Azalea slumped to the wall of the shed right after shutting the door behind her harshly, almost with a bang, a bang that did no justice to the wrath in her body, immediately taking out the forbidden shirt she had to wear on the way over here.

She hated it to her core.

She stepped on the shirt until it was no more.

She was almost going to smell like that bastard.

She had been controlling the bile and the tears in her body for the past 2 hours, for the past fucking 2 hours while she tailed Tiras until he couldn't be followed anymore, giving her nothing. His car was roaming in circles, knowing someone might follow them. So she gave up.

Her werewolf speed never came to wizz through those miles in the forest due to the overwhelming burn. Her supernatural ability got suppressed because of the pain, because of the experience she inflicted on herself. Beda doesn't function when it burns.

It was like all those nightmares were coming back to her.

One by one.

Inch by inch.

"Fuck." She cursed to herself with a small cry, her body disoriented and almost falling to the ground, closing her eyes as her body automatically hugged herself and she leaned her against a big box, feeling her breathing not calming down.

Her body heated up, burning beyond comprehension until she was covered in sweat and a smell so bad. 

Tiras' smell lingered on her for some time, making her body rebel even more. More than what she would expect, her mate bond punishing her to ever let herself be touched like that. Everything inside her was begging to be let out and lose control. She wanted to hurt somebody, she wanted to make this feeling go away from her fingers.

The control room saw her vitals.

She was suffering.

She was in pain, bad pain.

Zane abandoned the destroyed gun in his hands after Molly tried calming him down with her hold on his shirt. 

Zane was saying nothing, but his silence was terrifying everybody in the control room. His parents, his cabinet, his uncles and aunts, all were as rageful as he was, but they came nowhere near the thoughts he was thinking in his mind. He had kept his gun handy to shoot somebody and relieve the anger he got from the hands that touched his woman, his mate, his person. Touched so horribly, those hands should be cut.

But the gun lost its purpose after he squeezed it too tight.

Deforming into nothing but metal.

He felt everything in her. More than the burn, he felt her violation. Her fear. her disorientation. Her everything.

She squinted, her eyes shut.
"It's over, it's over." She chanted to herself profusely, feeling her body move abnormally to shake off the touch and smell of Tiras on her, her hands shaking while she silently begged for the burn in her body to go away.

The cabinet looked at her slowly blinking with a pained mood. They were hurt for her. They were livid for her.

"Make it go away, make it... I can't be touched. I can't be touched. I am okay," She continued, rocking herself from side to side to regain her senses, to alert her body that she was no longer under anyone's hold, she was no longer being controlled by anyone.

Beda's headache never came due to this action, a headache that would always happen. Azalea knew how to never cry for this ever again.

She was no bitch. She was no pussy.