I walked right out of Isabella’s room after trying not to stare at her teary eyes. It only made me feel worse. She was so f*****g good at fighting, almost better than me.
But I needed to get her angry, furious, livid for tomorrow. Ryker was going to show up, and I needed her to screw up. I needed her to stumble. I needed her to fail.
I wanted to break her down piece by piece—had been trying to do it all week—so he would think she was just as weak as the next trainee. And so I could keep her to myself.
Her scent still lingered on my body, and I readjusted myself through my pants. I never wanted to hurt her. I wanted to love her. We had fallen out of friendship so many years ago … and I wanted her back.
But this—hurting her—I knew was beyond me. Even the dom in me wanted to take it back.
