Hybrid Alpha’s Prettiest Obsession

a forgotten piece

I lunged at him with all the rage that had been festering inside me for years, my dagger aimed straight for his heart. But before I even closed the distance, Malakai’s arm shot out, catching me by the wrist effortlessly. His grip was iron, and I felt the bones in my wrist groan under the pressure.

"Really?" he asked, not even a flicker of concern crossing his face. He turned his head slightly, as if I were no more than a nuisance, a fly that had buzzed a bit too close to his ear. His eyes barely grazed mine.

There was no recognition in them. No apology. No sign that I had ever mattered to him at all.

He released my wrist with an almost bored flick of his fingers, sending me stumbling backwards. The dagger clattered to the floor, and my breath hitched as I fell against the plush chair behind me. For a moment, I felt ridiculous—like a child who had thrown a tantrum only to be met with cold indifference.

“You think I care what happens to you, Mina?" His voice was smooth and unhurried, like he was discussing the weather during the war. I was that insignificant to him. "You’re nothing to me. You never were."

Those words hit harder than any blow he could have delivered. My chest tightened as the severity of his disgust and disdain sank in, like I was some forgotten sadness in his past. A discarded relic, unworthy of a second glance. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, and humiliation like a thief creeped into my bones.

"You killed my family," I choked out with barely uncontrolled rage. "You slaughtered them all, and you have the nerve to act like none of it matters?" A small part of me mockery despite my words: “What are you expecting him to say? Sorry for killing Ma and Da? Sorry for rendering you useless?”

Malakai raised a brow, his expression indifferent, as though my accusations were beneath him. "I don’t keep track of every little casualty. War demands sacrifices. If they were weak enough to die, then they deserved it."

The casualness with which he spoke ripped through me. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms until I felt the sting of broken skin. All I could feel was bitterness. How could he? How could he speak about my family like they were nothing?

“And you were supposed to be better,” I whispered, tasting the fresh bitterness of anguish over the back of my tongue. “You were supposed to be different.”

He laughed then. A low, chilling sound that bounced off the walls and through the room. His voice had gotten thicker and… colder. “Different?” he repeated like I was five again, his eyes narrowing in the most dangerous way. “You really thought I would waste my life for a pathetic thing like you? We had a few moments. That’s all it was. Whatever you thought we had—” he waved a dismissive hand, “—it was in your head, Mina. A fantasy.”

My stomach twisted violently, and I thought I might be sick. Was this really the man I had once trusted with my heart? The man I had given everything to, only for him to toss me aside as if I were nothing more than a distraction?

"Get out," he said flatly, turning his back on me. "I've no time for your little theatrics. You serve no purpose here."

For a moment, I stood frozen, disbelief locking me in place. Every fibre of my being wanted to scream, to shout, to make him understand the depths of the pain he had caused. But as I stared at the broad expanse of his back and at the powerful, inked arms that once held me, I realised something.

I didn’t matter to him. I never had.

And now, standing in his presence after all these years, I meant even less. My throat constricted, and the consequences of my love... he killed Ma and Da, yet... It all crashed down on me in waves. I couldn't breathe. There was nothing left to say. Nothing I could do to change the cold reality that Malakai Bloodrot had moved on. I was nothing more than a forgotten piece in his story. Without another word, I turned on my heel, my heart shattering anew with every step I took towards the door. The moment I reached the threshold, his voice called out to me, low and condescending.

"And Mina?"

I paused, my hand trembling on the doorknob, hoping for the smallest sign of regret.

"Don't think about coming back.”

I froze at the door, my fingers tightening around the brass handle, those words like a noose around my neck. His voice was so casual yet so cold, cutting through the anger and leaving something else. A hollow space that filled with longing shame. How long had I been clinging to this bitterness, carrying it like a shield when it was nothing more than a weapon forged out of his indifference? For a moment, that familiar pain crept up my spine. But then something shifted. It started deep in my chest, bubbling up from the raw wound his words had opened.

It was a sound not even I expected.

It started as a low chuckle. Then it grew louder, uncontrollable, bursting from my lips like a bloodcurdling scream disguised as amusement. I couldn't help bending over slightly to control my shaking shoulders. It didn't work out, so... I clutched the door frame for support. I wasn’t laughing because his words were funny. No. It was the laughter of someone who had been broken so many times that all she had left was the absurdity of her situation. Where was I supposed to go? If I leave here, I will be taken to the pit. Don't come back? If I could, I wouldn't be here, you bloody bastard!

Irritation replaced the confusion in his eyes. "What's so amusing?" Malakai asked, his tone heavy.

“You’ve always been like this, haven’t you?” I whispered, not bothering to turn and look at him. “Always boasting about your strength, your power, like it makes you more of a man.”

My voice hardened as I spoke; each word wrapped in stones hurled back at him. “But it’s always the smaller men, isn’t it? The ones so desperate to prove they’re anything at all.”

I heard the rustle of movement behind me, and I knew my words had landed, though his silence only stroked my fury.

“How long, Malakai?” I spat, spinning on my heels to face him. “How long have you been stalking me? Watching me from your throne while you crushed my family, my life, without even a second thought?”

His lips twitched, and the faintest curl of amusement played at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes told a different story—an irritation that burnt beneath the surface, just enough for me to notice.

He tilted his head, as though considering me from some great height, like I was an insect crawling beneath his feet. Slowly, deliberately, he took a step toward me. Then another. The room seemed to shrink with each movement, my heart pounding louder in my chest, but I refused to go back to The Pit without causing him damage.

He stopped mere inches from me, his towering form casting a shadow that swallowed me whole. The scent of smoke and leather and the raw heat of his skin brushed over me like a suffocating blanket. I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze, the dark blue of his eyes cold and indifferent, pinning me where I stood.

“What are you going to do, Mina?” His voice was as low as a murmur, but it dripped with condescension. He leaned in intently, hot breath against my ear, making my veins race despite the frothing storm of hatred inside me. “s***h your tiny dagger into my skin again? You think that changes anything?”

He said it, knowing the first scar on his face was a mistake. There won't be a second time. Those words should have sent me reeling, but instead, they only fanned the flames of my fury. What was my confidence? Anything, anything at all was better than the f*****g pit! My body trembled with the force of it, but I was no longer sure if it was anger or something entirely else. Something obsessive and possessive had always lingered between us.

Without thinking, my hands shot up, pressing against the hard muscle of his chest, pushing him back as best as I could. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his large hands curled around my wrists, trapping them against him as he loomed over me, his lips so close I could almost taste the smoke and vaping venom on his breath.

“You’re still so weak,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle, as though he were speaking to a child throwing a tantrum. “Just like you were back then.”

The reminder of the past sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through me, and I thrashed in his grip, trying to pull my hands free, but it was like fighting against iron. My nails bit into his skin, and for a moment, I thought I saw the briefest flicker of something in his eyes—pain, perhaps? Guilt? No. Not him. He was too far gone for that. Too consumed by whatever darkness had overtaken the man I once knew.

But even as I struggled, I couldn’t deny the electric charge that slowly hummed between us, that twisted and coiled in the space where our bodies were far too close. It was maddening and infuriating that even after everything, I could still feel this way.

I cursed myself for it. Cursed him for it.

“Let me go,” I hissed, the demand sounding weak even to my own ears. But he didn’t. Instead, he held me there, watching me with an intensity that made my skin crawl and my heart skip a beat. The intensity of his gaze was unbearable, as though he could see right through me to every broken piece and every scar he had left behind. I could almost trace the scar above his eyes...

“You always thought you were special, didn’t you?” His gaze dropped lower, allowing his thumb to brush over the pulse in my wrist. The contact sending shivers down my spine despite my raging self. “That you meant something to me. But you never did, Mina. You were just convenient.”