Chapter 0222

Zachary

My fists slammed into the punching bag repeatedly.

Isabella refuses to let me touch her during her period.

She calls it disgusting.

She says if I try, she’ll cut my dick off without hesitation.

I’d rather keep my cock.

So I take my frustration out on the training equipment.

I stop when stuffing bursts from the torn seams.

I unhook the bag and carry it toward the pile of others I’ve destroyed.

The woman who repairs them is going to curse my name.

As I lift another bag onto my shoulder, a sharp pain shoots through my chest.

It doubles me over.

I gasp for air.

“Isabella!”

I drop the bag and sprint across the training grounds.

I ignore the concerned looks from other pack members.

“ISABELLA?” I shout, bursting through the back door into the packhouse.

She stares at me, wide-eyed.

A spoonful of ice cream is halfway to her lips.

The stabbing pain continues to pierce my heart, but my mate is right there.

She looks perfectly fine. And confused.

Her brows furrow.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” I snap back, fighting to control the anger surging inside me.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

She nods slowly, still watching me.

The pain vibrates deeply in my chest but doesn’t spread.

It couldn’t be.

“Zachary?” Her voice is laced with worry.

But if she was unharmed, only one possibility remained.

I rub my sternum.

“I think… I think Gabriel is dead.”

Her spoon clatters onto the table.

“He’s… dead? But you’re still here?”

“I felt pain. I thought it was you. But you’re fine. It has to be him.”

I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let go.

She blinks several times, as if not processing.

“Who… who would have killed him?”

“Could’ve been anyone. That bar where I found Lottie wasn’t his only hunting spot.” I press my palm against my chest again. The sensation was unexpected. I didn’t think any connection to my brother remained. “The fool must’ve gotten himself into more trouble.”

“Are you okay?” she asks softly. “I know you wanted to be the one to end him. For what he did.”

It was true.

I wanted to be the last thing he ever saw.

I wanted to watch the life leave his eyes.

I nod. He was dead. One less threat to worry about. “What about you?”

She may not say it aloud, but I feel her questions.

She wonders how he became so hateful.

She keeps those thoughts to herself.

Sometimes she forgets I can hear them.

After last time, I won’t force them out of her.

“He deserved it,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip.

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I just want you to tell me the truth when you’re ready.”

I choose my words carefully.

I watch her subtle reactions.

I make sure not to push too hard.

She isn’t afraid to shut me out if I do.

“I cared for him once. You know that.” She releases a heavy sigh. “He seemed like a good man at first. He filled my head with lies. Told me what I wanted to hear. Made promises he never intended to keep. He did horrible, horrible things.” She glances down at her leg. It’s nearly healed, but she still refuses to join pack runs or shift. Just in case.