Chapter 144

Ava’s POV

The words sent a chill through me, but I refused to let it show. Dylan’s grip on my hand was firm, his fingers like iron shackles. His movements were deliberate and commanding as he led me into the opening steps of the dance. His touch felt like fire and ice—a blistering mix of control and fury—and I hated the way he held me so effortlessly, as though he still had a right to.

The music swirled around us, a slow yet haunting melody that echoed the tension in the room. Every step we took seemed deliberate, a calculated move in this twisted game he was playing. My heart pounded in my chest, not from the routine, but from the growing rage simmering beneath my skin.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I hissed, trying to yank my hand free from his unrelenting grasp.

His grip only tightened, his claws teasing the edge of my skin, daring me to struggle further. His lips curved into a mocking smirk as his voice dropped low, just loud enough for me to hear.

“Then listen,” he whispered, his words cutting like a blade. “That’s something you’ve always been good at, isn’t it? Obedience. You’re nothing more than a pathetic little puppy on a leash, pretending you’ve broken free.”

My jaw clenched as his words sank in, each one carefully crafted to strike where it hurt the most. I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I glared at him, forcing venom into my tone.

“Let me go, Dylan,” I snapped. The routine forced me closer to him; his smirk widened as he leaned in, our movements flowing seamlessly despite the tension.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. He spun me outward, the motion smooth and practiced, before pulling me back into his chest. His lips brushed close to my ear, his next words sending a chill down my spine.

“You’re going to be useful for once,” he said, his tone sharp and biting. “You’re going to get me an in with Grayson Blackwood.”

The audacity of his demand stunned me into silence for a moment, but then a laugh escaped my lips. It wasn’t one of humor, but of disbelief and rage.

“Grayson doesn’t associate with lowlifes,” I said coldly, my voice steady despite the anger boiling beneath the surface.

His smirk faltered briefly, replaced by something darker. Without warning, I felt his claws extend, sharp and unforgiving, pressing into my side. The sting was immediate, and a gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it.

The music swelled, covering the sound of my pain, and as quickly as they had appeared, his claws retracted. I glared up at him, fury burning in my chest, but he didn’t seem the least bit apologetic.

“I’ve played nice long enough,” he growled, his voice dripping with menace. “Don’t forget, Ava—I still have every ability to hurt you, just like before.”

Anger surged through me, and I refused to let him see the pain he had caused. Instead, I spun myself in time with the routine, using the motion to slam my heel into his leg. Hard.

His eyes darkened, a flash of his wolf breaking through his carefully crafted façade. The sight should have terrified me, but I held my ground, watching as the wolf inside him receded almost as quickly as it appeared.

Dylan’s response wasn’t what I expected. Instead of lashing out, he smiled, his gaze dropping pointedly to my neck. His smirk widened; his voice softened into something that was almost intimate, though the malice in his tone made it anything but.

“I see he’s marked you,” he said, his eyes gleaming with something that sent a shiver down my spine. “But you should remember something, Ava. No matter how much you try to escape it, you’ll always be my fated mate. You’ll never fully belong to Grayson.”

His words struck a nerve, but I refused to let him see it. Instead, I met his gaze head-on, my voice steady as I replied. “I couldn’t care less,” I spat. “Is there a reason you’re suddenly interested in the fact that we’re fated? Last I checked, you were too busy sticking your dick in someone else while we were still married. Congratulations on marking a slut, by the way.”

For a moment, the venom in my words seemed to hit its mark. His expression faltered, the smirk slipping into something colder, more dangerous. Then, as if regaining control, he spun me again, his movements sharp and abrupt.

This time, he released me at the peak of the motion, sending me off balance. My heart leapt into my throat as I stumbled, but before I could fall, his hand shot out, catching me and yanking me back toward him.

The force of the motion left me breathless, my chest heaving as I stared up at him in shock. His smirk returned, sharper and more menacing than before.

“Next time, I’ll let you fall,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “Think about how much your parents would hate that. For you to embarrass them.”

The mention of my parents hit a nerve I’d been trying to bury all night. My hands curled into fists, but I kept my voice steady. “I don’t care what they think anymore.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through my chest. “That’s a lie. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be hosting this ridiculous ball, and we wouldn’t be here.”

His words struck deeper than I wanted to admit, but I shoved the thought aside, focusing on the rage bubbling beneath the surface. I tried to shove him away, but his grip was unyielding, his claws hovering just below the surface of his skin.

“We’re not done,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “The dance isn’t over.”

My wolf, silent until now, surged forward, her presence a comforting strength I hadn’t realized I needed. I felt my eyes darken, mirroring his, and the power of my wolf lent steel to my voice.

“You’re five seconds away from having your eyes clawed out,” I warned, my voice sharp and unwavering.

For a moment, his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as if considering the threat. Then, with infuriating calm, he smiled, his lips curling into a mockery of amusement.

“I almost forgot about your little performance,” he said. “And I heard the moon goddess finally pitied you to give a wolf as pathetic as you.”

His words were the final straw. My claws extended, and I shoved him with everything I had. The force of it caught him off guard, sending him stumbling backward.

The routine broke. Gasps rippled through the ballroom as the music swelled, the haunting melody now a sharp crescendo that mirrored the chaos in the room.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. All eyes were on us; the weight of their stares was suffocating. But I didn’t care. I was done—with the dance, with the ball, with Dylan.

Ignoring the whispers and the judgmental glares, I turned on my heel, ready to leave this suffocating nightmare behind. But I didn’t get far.

“Ava.”

My father’s commanding voice cut through the tension, freezing me mid-step. His tone left no room for argument, and I clenched my fists at my sides, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill from my lips.

“Finish the dance.”

The weight of his authority was like a chain around my neck, dragging me back into place. Before I could protest, Dylan’s hand shot out, grabbing mine once more. His grip was almost bruising as he yanked me back into the routine.

“You’re pathetic and worthless,” he growled under his breath, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage. “And you’ll never be his.”

Before I could respond, he moved in closer, and his lips crashed on mine with a force that stole the air from my lungs.