Anabel

"Arrrrrrrrrghhhh!" The scream tore out of my throat, raw and furious, echoing down the corridor as Noah took off after that rogue without so much as a backward glance.

"Fuck that bitch!" I yelled again, my nails digging into my palms as jealousy and rage twisted violently inside my chest.

I had always known this day would come. Or maybe I had hoped it would. I had waited—patiently, painfully—for the moment Noah would finally stop seeing me as just a sister, just a responsibility, just someone safe. I had dreamed of the day his eyes would linger on me the way a man looks at a woman he wants, not a girl he feels obligated to protect.

And today...today he finally did.

I could still remember the way his gaze had changed, the subtle shift in his breathing when I teased him the way I always did. At first, it had been harmless, at least on the surface. A brush of my fingers, a playful smile, standing just a little too close. But then I felt it. The heat. The tension coiled tightly inside him, barely restrained.

He had been starving his wolf.

I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in how his fists tightened like he was fighting a battle within himself. He was torturing himself in the name of decency, in the name of doing what was "right." And it infuriated me. Decency be damned. I had watched him deny himself for far too long, watched him suffer silently while pretending everything was fine.

I didn’t want to see him like that anymore.

And if I was being honest, brutally honest, I had always wanted him. I had wanted him before I was supposed to. Before it was appropriate. Before it was safe to admit. I had buried those feelings under loyalty and patience, telling myself that one day, he would see me.

So when I tugged playfully at his waistband, when my fingers traced over his bare chest, it wasn’t just teasing. It was my intention. It was years of longing finally finding a voice. I felt his breath hitch, felt the way his body reacted despite his mind screaming at him to stop.

I kept going.

Every touch, every slow caress was deliberate, meant to break down the walls he had built so carefully. And when he finally snapped, when he kissed me like a man who had been deprived for far too long, I felt victorious. The restraint melted away, replaced by hunger, urgency, need.

I loved it.

I loved the way he kissed me, the way his control slipped just enough for me to feel wanted. For a moment, I thought this was it. That this was the turning point. That he would finally choose me, not because of duty, not because of arrangements, but because he wanted me.

I waited for more. For him to close the distance completely. For the world to narrow down to just us.

And then...The door opened.

That bitch.

The memory burned behind my eyes, sharp and humiliating. The way everything shattered in an instant. The way Noah shoved me away as though I were something forbidden, something wrong. Like I was a mistake he needed to erase.

And the worst part?

He didn’t hesitate.

He chased after her.

Not me. Not the woman who had been standing right there, who had waited, who had given him exactly what he needed. He left me behind like I was nothing, like I didn’t exist, like I hadn’t just been in his arms moments ago.

I stood there frozen, my chest tight, my pride in pieces, watching him disappear after Maria.

Maria.

The name alone made my blood boil.

"I will make you pay for this, Maria," I snarled silently, the words echoing darkly inside my skull. My hands trembled—not with sadness, but with fury. She had taken something from me. Something I had waited for, something I believed was finally mine.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

If she thought she could walk in, steal his attention, and run away with it so easily, then she was gravely mistaken. I would not be pushed aside. I would not be ignored. And I would not lose Noah to a rogue who didn’t even understand what she was taking.

One way or another, I would make sure of that, because, initially, my intentions had been clear, cold, calculated, and carefully layered.

I had gone to Noah with a purpose.

My first plan was simple, almost laughably straightforward. I would ask Noah to stand before my brothers and declare that he wanted to get engaged to me. I already knew how that conversation would end. Noah was predictable in that way, honorable to a fault, cautious with emotions, always choosing what he believed was right over what he truly wanted. He would reject me. Politely. Gently. With that apologetic look he always wore when turning someone down.

And that rejection was expected.

That was where my second plan came in.

If he refused, I would sigh, look defeated, maybe even let my eyes glisten a little, and tell him the truth, or at least a version of it. I would tell him I was tired. Tired of my brothers’ control, tired of living under their claws, tired of having every step of my life dictated by power and expectations. I would tell him I wanted to leave. Just leave. And I would ask him to help me.

Noah was soft-hearted. Too soft.

He would agree. Of that, I was certain.

He would take me to his pack, away from my brothers, away from their suffocating grip. And once I was safely there, once distance and time dulled the edges, I could always cancel the engagement. Cleanly. Quietly. No scandal. No blood on my hands. I would be free, and Noah would still believe he had done the right thing.

Those were the two plans I had walked in with.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

But plans have a way of unraveling when emotions slip through the cracks.

Seeing Noah earlier, seeing how vulnerable he was, how tightly wound his restraint had become, changed something in me. It wasn’t just desire; it was opportunity. His wolf was restless, starving, clawing for release. And for the first time, I realized I didn’t need to beg or manipulate him with words.

I could trap him.

If I pushed him just far enough, if I let him cross that line willingly, he would feel responsible. Noah was built that way. He carried guilt like a second skin. If he believed he had compromised me, touched me when he shouldn’t have, took something that couldn’t be returned, he would insist on taking responsibility.

He would choose me.

Not because he loved me—but because he believed it was the honorable thing to do.

And I was prepared to accept that.

I was ready to play the part, to let him believe whatever he needed to believe, to secure my place beside him. I had already seen the cracks in his control. I knew exactly where to press.

Everything had been aligning perfectly.

Until Maria.

Her name burned like acid in my thoughts.

She wasn’t part of the plan. She was never supposed to be. A rogue. A nobody. Someone insignificant. And yet, in a matter of moments, she had undone everything, walked in like a curse and shattered the fragile moment I had been crafting so carefully.

The way Noah shoved me away to chase after her replayed in my mind, over and over, each time sharper than the last. That wasn’t an obligation. That wasn’t decency.

That was instinct.

And instinct was dangerous.

I smoothed my dress slowly, forcing my hands to stop trembling, forcing my expression back into place. Anger was useless if it wasn’t directed. Panic was pointless if it wasn’t shaped into action.

Standing up, I drew in a deep breath, steadying myself.

Noah was no longer the problem.

Maria was.

And Maria wasn’t just an inconvenience anymore, she was a threat. A living, breathing disruption to everything I had planned. She didn’t even realize the damage she was capable of causing, and that made her even more dangerous.

Threats needed to be dealt with.

But not recklessly.

I needed guidance. Strategy. Someone who understood how these games were played on a higher level. Someone who knew how to twist situations without ever getting blood on her hands.

Vanessa.

Only she would understand. Only she would know what to do next.

Vanessa had always been brilliant, sharp-minded, patient, ruthless when necessary. I had followed her advice more times than I could count, and it had never failed me. That was one of the many reasons I wanted her as my brother’s mate. Power recognized power. And Vanessa knew how to wield hers without ever lifting a blade.

If anyone could tell me how to neutralize Maria without drawing attention, it was her.

My decision made, I straightened my spine and walked toward the door, my steps quickening as resolve hardened inside me. The hurt was still there, festering, but it was being buried beneath something far more useful.

Purpose.

Maria might not realize it yet, but she had stepped into a world she didn’t understand. And in doing so, she had placed herself directly in my path.

I didn’t slow down as I moved through the corridors. I didn’t hesitate. My footsteps echoed with urgency as I headed straight for Vanessa’s room, my mind already racing with possibilities.

One way or another, this would be handled.

And Maria?

She wouldn’t stand in my way for long.