- "What Part Of I Fucking Love You, Don't You Understand?"

I stare at her swiftly retreating back, shell-shocked.

"No, she didn't."

"W-What?" I stutter out one word, unable to think enough to coordinate my words.

"I said, 'She didn't'." Beta Ezra repeats, and I finally gather myself to turn around and meet the identical blue eyes of my brother.

Brother.

The word still seems so foreign.

"She thinks she did, but I know she didn't." He says, looking directly at my eyes for the first time since yesterday's fiasco.

"Oh." I say stupidly, "What really happened?" I question after a moment, unable to help myself from asking.

"That, you'll have to ask her." He shrugs, turning to glance in the direction of his friend. He then turns to me. "C'mon, let's go."

I proffer him a nod and we both leave to the parking lot, knowing that she'll be waiting, but fuming at the same time.

+ + +

On the whole way home, I don't utter a single word.

Seneca is back to being the cold Alpha who won't bare her feelings to anyone, with her spine ramrod straight and her fingers holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip that makes me idly wonder how the poor wheel hasn't snapped into two yet.

I can feel the animosity radiating off her, and I don't dare push her, for fear of getting my head bitten off.

She swerves around the fountain and pulls up in front of the main door, pulling the keys off the ignition. She then exhales deeply and undoes her seatbelt, getting out of the car with a slam of her door.

I sigh, getting out after her as well.

"Seneca." I call, testing the waters.

"Please don't." She implores quickly, turning around with her back to me.

"But—"

"Please." She still doesn't turn around, but her voice is so small, so vulnerable, I decide to not push it further.

"Fine." I sigh again, and I can see the tense set of her shoulders loosening slightly, relief almost palpably exuding off her frame.

She scurries inside the house without a word, making her way straight to her office. I shake my head and make my way to our room, deciding to do the rest of those problems Mr. Devon assigned us.

+ + +

"I'll tell you."

I jump in surprise and turn around in my seat, surprised to see Seneca standing in the doorway, still wearing the same clothes from earlier.

"Huh?"

"I'll tell you about it."

"Um, okay." I close my notebooks and cap my pen, pushing them away. I then twist around in my chair to straddle it, resting my chin on its back as I give her my undivided attention.

She stares at me for a few seconds in silence, but she eventually walks inside the room, taking a seat at the base of her bed.

Silence.

She continues to stare at me, her bleak gaze unnerving me and making me fidget awkwardly in my seat. "What?"

"I'm just looking at you, drinking in as much of you I can." She says off-handedly, shrugging as if it's totally normal to do so.

"Why?" I query, confused.

"Because even if you don't leave me, I don't think you'll look at me the same way again."

I don't have a reply to that, except stare at her incredulously.

Then the hurt sets in. "Is that how little you believe in me?"

She smiles a despondent smile at me, "You don't get it, Cage. You're too optimistic, looking for the good in everyone, and that's why you don't get it. You won't until you know what I did."

That does nothing except antagonize me to no end.

"Try me, why don't you?" I cross my arms across my chest, giving her a black look.

"Fine!" She snaps, glowering back. "You want to know, right? I'll tell you what I did, what made me the monster I am."

"You're not a monster, Seneca! Why do you keep insisting—"

"How can you be so sure of that when you don't know—"

"Then, tell me dammit! Just tell me—"

"I killed my own father, Micajah! My flesh and blood, the person who gave me life. I killed him with my own hands." She bellows, her eyes blazing with fury.

I remain silent, reeling from shock at her words. She never calls me Micajah. Scratch that, she has never called me Micajah before.

"No, you didn't." I say, swallowing down the pinch of rejection.

"Yes, I did." Now, the fury melts away from her expression, making way for dejection.

"Beta Ezra told me that you didn't. I don't believe you." I snap, making her flinch back in surprise.

"Ezra sprouts bullshit all the time. You're a fool if you believe him." She rolls her eyes as she lets out a laugh that's devoid of humor.

"My patience is running thin, Seneca. Cut the shit and tell me what the hell happened alright. I don't wanna hear one more word of you blaming yourself!"

She looks astonished by my outburst.

What can I say, even I'm pretty shocked with myself.

But then the shock fades away, and the fire returns in those granite irises, flaring so bright and powerful, I can feel the Alpha in her rising to the surface.

"There's nothing more to tell! He assaulted me, I killed him!"

"W-What?"

"Yes, he tried to rape me. I beat him senseless and left him bleeding and too weak to heal himself. The next morning, he was found dead in his room with a pathetic 'I'm sorry, pup' note beside his bead, and a silver dagger sticking out of his heart."

My mouth feels dry, and suddenly, my tongue feels like an unwanted deadweight, occupying useless space.

"I—"

"No, please. Don't give me your fucking pity, I don't want it."

"What, no—"

"Don't say a word." She growls in a tone so icy, so glacial, it rivals the temperature of Antarctica.

A chill travels down my spine. I stand up, abandoning the chair to walk up to her and kneel beside her on the carpeted floor.

"Seneca." I plead in a whisper, placing a hand on her thigh lightly, and her shoulders go rigid.

"That's why I hated people using my name after that day." She whispers hoarsely, her eyes downcast and tendrils of her hair covering them from view. Her voice cracks slightly as she looks down at her hands, fisting and un-fisting them.

"What?" I urge, hoping that she'd get it all out.

"Seventeen years, he never called me 'Seneca'. But that day, that day when he grabbed me, I—I couldn't believe it was him. He'd never treated me like a daughter, he'd always behaved like I was an animal to be trained, you know? But I'd always thought that despite everything, somewhere in the corner of his mind, he loved me. He shattered all that hope cruelly when he pinned me down, and I...I can fucking remember the alcohol in his breath, and I can remember thinking that he was maybe too intoxicated to say the difference between me and some cheap whore that he fucks every night. That's when he said it, or more like moaned it, my name. My fucking name."

I force down the bile rising in my throat, my grip on her thigh tightening as I try to force myself and remain calm, to not do anything and break the spell. The spell that's somehow keeping her from closing herself off.

Don't, Micajah. Don't. You can't kill an already dead man.

"And you beat him." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I snapped. Thirteen years of training hadn't gone to a waste. In a second, I'd reversed our positions and before I knew what was happening, I was beating him and breaking all his bones, all those years of ill-treatment and verbal abuse catching up in that moment. I couldn't control myself, no matter how much I tried. And I'm ashamed to say that I enjoyed every fucking second of it. I enjoyed giving it back to him, and only when I was done, when he was barely breathing did I realize that no matter how much I'd tried to prevent it, it had happened."

"It?" I prompt.

"Yes, that I had become the same monster that he was. And that, that monster in me thirsted for blood."

"Seneca...please don't say that—" I try to grab her chin and make her look into my eyes as I say it, but she pulls away, turning far from my reach.

"I'm a monster, Micajah. A monster." She whispers, fisting her hands so tight they're whiter than ice. I cup both her cheeks in my palms and forcefully drag her eyes to mine, looking firmly into her watery grey orbs.

"Listen to me, Mate. You are not a monster, okay? He was a sick bastard who deserved to die for what he did. He was the one who decided to be a coward and kill himself! It's not your fault!"

"It is my fault! If it weren't for me, my mother would be alive today, and he wouldn't have become what he became! I was supposed to die that d-day!" Her voice wobbles, "Not..." It cracks, betraying her snapping control on her emotions, "N-n-not her!" She yells, and the dam breaks, two big, fat tears rolling down her smooth, pink cheeks.

I lunge forward and pull her into my arms, wrapping mine around her neck. She resists, pushing at my chest, but I hold her firmly to me as a sob wracks her chest, feeling so helpless at that moment, unable to do one damn thing to take away the pain, the hurt, the sadness, she's feeling.

"Do you not care about me?" I whisper and she finally gives in, collapsing in my arms as she sobs away her sorrows. My chest hurts from the seeing her like this, my Alpha, my always strong and commanding Mate.

"If you were dead, who would've saved me that day, Seneca? Don't you think that maybe, if not for yourself, you should at least live for me, your soulmate?"

"B-But," She hiccups, burying her face into my neck, "B-Braxton was after m-me, not my mother. I-I should've died," She looks up, grabbing the collar of my t-shirt in her fists, "saving everyone from all this pain. Even you would've had a better life, if I weren't there. Beta Xavier wouldn't have left because my father would've been sane, and he wouldn't have forced him to leave, and no one would've bullied you. The Goddess would've blessed you with a sweet, kind and cheerful Mate, someone unlike me, always cold and unable to say one damn thing to you that expresses what I really feel." She wails, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to stop the flow of tears from her eyes.

That makes me snap, anger pumping in my veins as my Wolf surfaces, he too, angry at my Mate for even considering another possibility. My eyes ignite with fury, as I stare her down, "What the fucking fuck, Seneca? Who the fuck told you I want another fucking Mate?! I don't fucking want another Mate, you dumbass! I want you! Only fucking you!"

"Why the fuck do you want me?!" She yells, glaring stubbornly through her tear filled eyes.

"Because I fucking love you, idiot! Everything about you! Your rare smiles, the way you order me around, the way you kiss me, the way you can be so sweet but so hot, the way you quiet an entire room with a glance, even the way you glare at me, every fucking thing!"

She looks at me in silence for a few moments, almost as if she's searching my eyes for the truth. My eyes don't flicker away even for a second, looking firmly into her almost questioning eyes.

"Y-You do?"

"What part of I fucking love you don't you understand?" I snap, forcing her eyes up when she tries to look down again.

"You t-think you do, but it'll fade away. You'll l-leave me."

"I won't leave you, Seneca, why can't you take my word for it?!"

"Everyone leaves in the end!—"

"That's how life works, you have to just believe that I won't leave—"

"But that's the problem, how can I believe when I know—"

"Then, Marry me!"

We look at each other, shocked. "W-What?"

That's when I realize that I actually mean it. I want to marry her, it doesn't matter if it's tomorrow or the day-after, because I know that I will spend the rest of my life with this girl, this beautiful, insecure girl who never lets her guard down.

"Yes, you want confirmation? Fine then, marry me."

"B-but, we're too young—"

"Do you think that I'm not good enough for you?"

"What?! No, of course not!" She looks appalled by the suggestion.

"Good, because I don't think so too. Now, I don't have a ring, but I'll get you one soon. Just agree that you'll marry me." I rub my thumbs across her tear streaked cheeks, waiting for her reply.

"A-Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"As sure as I'll ever be."

"Okay," She sighs, nodding her head with a small smile, "I'll marry you."

With that, I lean forward and crush my lips to hers, showing her just how deep my love for her runs.

+ + +

THANK U SO MUCH MY LOVELY READERS!!!