Not me.
Jealousy spread through my veins like poison—slow, corrosive pain, starting from the heart and seeping into every limb, making each breath taste bitter.
My wolf growled deep in my soul.
That was our place.
She should be holding onto us.
She should be trembling in our arms.
She should...
"Don't mention it," Lucas said gently, his hand covering Layla's, giving it a light pat. Too familiar. So familiar I wanted to charge forward and snap his hand off. "Ella, I saw the news. Those bastards..."
He kept talking.
But I couldn't take it anymore.
I strode out of the shadows, into their little bubble of oblivious harmony.
Both of them looked at me.
Lucas's expression shifted from concern to surprise, then his eyebrow quirked up, mouth curving into an amused smile.
And Layla...
The instant Layla saw me, all color drained from her face. Her hand jerked back from Lucas's arm like she'd been shocked, body instinctively retreating until she hit the wall with a dull thud.
That look held fear, resistance, and something I didn't want to acknowledge—
Rejection. She was rejecting my approach, like I was some kind of monster.
That realization hurt more than any wound.
"Mr. Blackwood," Lucas spoke first, adjusting his shirt cuffs rumpled from the fight, tone casual like making small talk. "Didn't expect to see you in the neighborhood. Don't you have business to handle?"
He was playing dumb.
The bastard knew I was here for Layla.
"I need to discuss something important with Miss Ross." I stared at him, forcing my voice to stay calm. "Please give us some privacy."
"Oh?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. He stepped forward, casually positioning himself completely in front of Layla. "How about that, Mr. Blackwood—I also need to chat with Ella."
He paused, smile deepening.
"And you know how it is. First come, first served. I was here first."
He was provoking me.
This man who'd taken my three hundred million, who should be on a yacht counting cash, now stood before me, blocking me from my mate, challenging me.
My temples started throbbing. Fingers slowly clenched, knuckles cracking softly.
"First come, first served," I repeated the words, then smiled.
The smile must have looked ugly, because Lucas's expression froze for a moment.
