Ricardo
My hands hit hard on the punching bag, my thoughts a mess, every damn thing going on was a mess.
I mean, why would Jayson even invite me into that room?
Why did it matter if she lived or died?
I would have thought he did it on purpose to inflict more pain on me, if I hadn't known him well enough.
God.
I barely noticed the door open until I smelled his scent, the perfect freshwater scent of my brother Nathan, that did nothing but calm the raging storm in me.
I didn't turn. My arms kept striking the helpless punching bag, hitting harder and harder as though it could wipe away my sorrow, take away the worries.
Did it help? Yes.
But did it wipe the sorrow? No.
My jaw tensed, my knuckles turned white, begging me to stop, but I never did.
At least, not until I felt his warm touch on my arms, holding them as he crouched low to my level.
"Give it time."
I ducked my gaze away from his, fighting so hard not to let those sorrowful tears fall.
At least not now. I should be strong.
He heaved a sigh, leaning in so my head rested on his chest. I tried to resist, but he didn't hesitate.
"It's okay to cry," he said, gently rubbing my shoulders.
"I'm always here for you, you know that, right?" His voice carried so much emotion, emotions that struck the deepest part of my heart.
The crack of the door drew our eyes in that direction as Jayson stepped in. My arms buckled over the side of the wheelchair as I leaned away from Nathan, eyes locking onto Jayson's.
"Greetings, Alphas," he said, bowing his head slightly in respect.
"I bring great news," he announced, and my brows lifted.
"That bitch is dead?" I asked impatiently.
"That's not true, right?" Nathan interjected, his breathing suddenly ragged.
Our gaze locked on him, and for a moment he seemed tense, until Jayson spoke.
"Far from that, Alpha."
"God," Nathan exclaimed, his hands running through his neatly layered hair. I could see sweat beading on his forehead as he moved away from us toward the punching bag.
His fists slammed into the bag, each hit echoing through the entire room. I had never seen him this strong or this fast, not even when we trained together in the past.
"Why didn't she just die?" he groaned aloud as his fists kept tearing into the bag.
"Why did she survive?" His breaths were ragged, his knuckles white, pieces of fabric from the bag scattering onto the floor.
But he never stopped punching, not until Jayson moved over to hold his arms. Nathan shook him off, eyes shimmering with so much anger and hatred as he grabbed Jayson and hurled him against the wall.
"How dare you stop me!" he howled, the room vibrating under the intensity of his voice.
His eyes burned a blistering red, his claws forming, and I knew exactly what that was.
"Stop!" I yelled.
Silence. Absolute silence.
He released Jayson, who stumbled backward, eyes on the red imprint Nathan's grip had left on his arm.
Nathan let out a heavy sigh as he looked at Jayson, sorrow and regret in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Jayson." He ran his hand through his hair, then looked at me. "It's just that…"
He paused, moving closer. "There's something I've wanted to tell you." He sighed, crouching low and locking his gaze with mine.
His hand rested gently on my arm over the handle of the wheelchair, and I glanced at the spot of his touch, warmth spreading for only a moment.
"It's just that... I love you, brother, and I can't stand seeing you in a wheelchair, knowing that the bitch who did this to you is still out there breathing."
His words cut deep. I could see compassion in his eyes as he flashed a weak smile, squeezed my arm, and stormed out of the gym.
The sound of the door closing pulled my emotions back in check. My hand flew to my eyes, quickly wiping away the tears I hadn't realized were there all this time.
"It's okay, Ricardo," Jayson spoke, taking my arm, his eyes drifting toward the partially closed door.
"At least you should be grateful for such a gift as a brother," he said with a small smile, nodding.
More than ever, I was grateful to have these amazing people around me, those who still stood by me even in a torturous condition like this.
"But that's not why I'm here." He smiled, and I knew that smile:
The playful Jayson, the same from when we were teenagers. That part of him could never change.
The same reason my brother and I loved him so much as a friend, standing with us even in the hardest times, aside from all his other qualities.
"Guess what?" His eyes flashed with mischief that teased my heart, and before I even realized it, I was smiling.
"You sure have your way, don't you?" I teased, and his loud laughter made me grin like a child in front of a stack of candies.
"I know, but…" His smile faded.
"Aunt is here to see you."
"God." I exhaled sharply.
"One day I will have to kill you," I teased.
My hands tightened on the wheelchair's arms, already moving it forward before I could even think.
"Guards," I called out, and two guards immediately appeared at the door.
"You can leave, I'll handle it," Jayson said, and they bowed their heads slowly before walking out.
Jayson's hands tightened on the wheelchair as he pushed me out of the gym toward the elevator leading to the sitting room.
Thoughts of Aunt Beatrice filled me, leaving a smile on my face. Memories I had long lost.
The moment she stood by us, me and my brother, taking care of us and making sure everything went well even after our parents' death.
Those passionate moments we shared together as one happy family all flashed in my mind, leaving smiles that lasted only briefly.
Not until Jayson wheeled past the empty rooms meant for the servants, and my eyes caught on a particular door, one that reminded me of a certain person.
Amanda.
I heaved a sigh as Jayson pushed forward. But then I heard it, noises, like screams.
So loud, so raw, they ripped through me.
I should just keep going, right?
But no, I couldn't.
My hand shoved the door open with a hard knock, and I wheeled inside…