He nodded. “I know just the place.”
It was a quiet bar, not loud, but still lively.
He ordered a round of shots and handed me the first.
“Drink. Trust me, you’ll feel better.”
I raised a brow. “Is that professional Alpha advice?”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
I took the shot.
Then another. And another.
By the fifth one, I wasn’t holding anything back.
“So,” he said gently. “You wanna talk about it?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Where do I start? That the woman who tormented me my entire life poured water on me at a gala? That she still thinks she owns the man who swore I was his future? That everyone there looked at me like I was filth for daring to stand next to him?”
He leaned forward slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I mean… it’s not completely surprising, is it? You know Cynthia’s been with Killian for years. They were even married. It’s not easy to erase that history just because he marked someone new.”
I blinked. “What are you saying?”
Darion shrugged, lifting another shot to his lips. “I’m just saying… men like Killian don’t change overnight. And people talk. You know he’s running for Alpha King, right? That role comes with responsibilities… image… stability.”
My throat tightened. “He said I was his choice. His Luna.”
Darion tilted his head. “Did he say that before or after he showed up at that gala still married to Cynthia?”
I stared at him, quite confused
“Look Liana,” he replied calmly, setting the glass down. “I’ve known Killian a long time. We’re… Uhmm… Sometimes friends… But that doesn’t mean I agree with how he handles things. See, I’m not trying to upset you, but Cynthia’s not just some jealous wife She’s smart Strategic And very much still involved in his life. The things she said tonight… maybe they weren’t all bes
I shook my head “He’s divorcing her.””Is he?” Darion asked, gently. “Or is that what he told you to keep you quiet while he runs his campaign? It wouldn’t be the first time Killian’s played both sides to get what he wants.”
I looked down, my hands tightening around the shot glass.
“I’m just saying,” he continued softly, “you deserve to know what you’re getting into. You deserve someone who chooses you publicly. Not someone who hides behind promises and leaves you crying in restrooms while his wife attacks you.”
He reached across the table then, his fingers brushing lightly against mine before taking my hand fully in his. He held it like he meant it, firm, intimate, warm.
“You don’t deserve this kind of pain,” he said. “You deserve better, Liana. Let me take care of you. Just for tonight. Let me be the one who doesn’t make you cry.”
I didn’t answer right away. The alcohol was starting to cloud my head, and his words… they were gentle and soft and sounded too good, too easy.
He stood up slowly, still holding my hand. “Come dance with me.”
I followed.
On the dance floor, the lights blurred everything, the music was loud enough to drown out thought, and Darion, no Killian was close, his hands on my waist, his breath warm against my ear, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re strong. But you’ve been carrying too much. Let me help. Let me hold you. Let me be the one who stays.”
I closed my eyes, swaying slowly, his voice washing over me like a drug.
“I believe you, Killian,” I whispered, the words tumbling from my lips without thought.
Killian stilled, just for a heartbeat, then leaned in closer, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers before cradling my face, his gaze locked on mine with something dark and heated swimming in his eyes.
His lips lowered to mine, slowly, deliberately, and I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t. My eyes fluttered closed, my hands gripped his arms tightly, and I leaned up into him because I needed someone, anyone, to make me forget everything for just a moment.
But just before his lips touched mine, a feral growl ripped through the air, so loud and so primal it stopped the music in my head, and the next thing I knew, Killian was yanked away from me so fast I stumbled back in shock.
And standing there, chest heaving, eyes glowing with rage, was another Killian.
LIANA’S POV
My head cleared the second I felt it, that sharp, suffocating shift in the air that gripped my throat like an invisible collar, that unmistakable, raw, electric pull of power and rage and danger that I had only ever known from one person, and my stomach bottomed out even before I turned and saw him.
Killian.
He was already there, already on top of Darion, fists flying with a savage rhythm, a storm of violence that didn’t stop, didn’t stutter, didn’t allow breath or mercy or reason, his body moving like an unhinged predator whose only purpose in that moment was destruction, whose only language was blood and bone, whose eyes, those terrifying pitch-black eyes, were so wild, so cold, so hollowed out by fury that it was like staring at a man possessed, like something ancient and ruthless had crawled into his skin and decided to wear it.
“Killian!” I screamed, my voice cracking as I stumbled forward, desperate, terrified, trying to reach him, but he didn’t hear me, couldn’t, because he was gone, too far gone, lost in whatever darkness ruled him, fists crashing into Darion’s face again and again, blood spraying in every direction with each brutal impact, and Darion wasn’t even trying to fight anymore, he was limp, defenseless, broken.
“Please! You’ll kill him! Stop! Stop it!” I cried, grabbing his arm, but it was like grabbing iron, like trying to drag a wrecking ball with bare hands, because Killian didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t care that I was there, until something cracked in him, something snapped, and he dropped Darion like garbage and turned to me, chest heaving, jaw clenched, his hands soaked in blood, his eyes black pits of fire.
He didn’t say a word.
He just grabbed me.
He lifted me like I was nothing, threw me over his shoulder, stormed out of that club with the kind of power that made everyone else freeze and step back, because no one in their right mind would get between Killian Wolfe and what he had decided was his.
I screamed, hit him, kicked, fought to be put down, shouting, “Let me go! You can’t do this! You’re insane!”
He didn’t even blink.
He threw open the car door, shoved me inside like a sack of flesh, slammed it so hard the whole car rattled, and the next second he was behind the wheel, jaw clenched, breathing like a wild animal as he gunned the engine and took off, tires screeching, weaving through traffic at speeds that should’ve killed us both.
“You’re going to get us killed!” I cried, heart slamming, body shaking.
He didn’t answer.
He drove like the devil himself was clawing at his heels, or maybe like he was the devil, and I was just the girl stupid enough to love him.
When the car finally slammed to a halt outside the hotel, he was out before I could move, yanking my door open, dragging me out by the wrist like a rag doll, and I twisted, slapped, begged, but he didn’t stop.
“Killian, stop! Please, this is crazy! Let me go!”
He said nothing.
The doors flew open under his boot. The hallway blurred as he dragged me straight to his hotel room and kicked the door so hard it crashed against the wall, splintering.
Then he threw me on the bed.
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