His Fake Obsession: My Fake Omega

Abigail hung from the cold stone wall, her weight straining against the shackles that bit into her wrists and ankles. Agony was a fire in her veins, but it was nothing compared to the icy regret that filled her soul. She cursed the day she had ever sensed his presence, the moment fate had branded him as her mate. He was to have been her sanctuary, her destined love. Instead, he was her torturer. “You know what?” Her voice was a raw scrape against the dungeon’s silence. “I curse the day I met you. I regret ever meeting you!!” Byron watched her, his expression a mask of cold indifference. He stood with his arms crossed, a statue of Alpha authority, though a muscle in his jaw twitched. Her words, sharp as shrapnel, found their mark somewhere deep beneath his facade. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” he said, his voice a low, controlled monotone that seemed to amplify the horror of the scene. “I only need you to understand. You will keep your distance from other males. I am the only one with the right to touch you.” “Go to hell, Byron.” She spat the words, each one a struggle against the pain. “You don’t own me.” This was all the turbulence and torture she had to face. Later on she could not stay anymore so she ran away. Escaping torture. Will she come back? Will he stop the torture if he finds her?