Page 4 of The Wolf

Dylan glared at me from across the room as I walked around, chatting with lobbyist and big-name donors.

I could feel his eyes trace my steps like a cat meticulously plotting its next move.

He cut across the dance floor, his eyes burning a hole into my chest. The weight of his gaze was heavy enough to make me feel like I was trudging through thick snow.

He was drunk; I could tell by his wavering, sloppy steps.

He bumped into the corner of a table and then stumbled into Mrs. Delfino.

She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes as she adjusted the corner of her sleeve.

But Dylan's eyes didn't move. He didn't acknowledge his bumbled footwork or even give her the courtesy of a subtle bow in apology.

His eyes were just fastened on me like a treble hook in the mouth of a fish.

I looked right to left, trying to find an exit. They all seemed so far away, leaving me anxious like a feral animal that was cornered. He was on me before I could slip away.

“Where the hell have you been all night?” Dylan asked. His tone was that of a jealous boyfriend.

“It's none of your business. I don't owe you any type of explanation for anything.”

“You've been avoiding me.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Dylan?”

“I saw you earlier. You had plenty of time to go around entertaining others.

Why don't you make some time for me now.” Right at that moment, a waiter perused by.

Dylan snatched two glasses of wine, drinking them one after the other as if he were at a frat party and all his pompous football buddies were chanting for him to chug.

“Dylan, you're drunk. Maybe you should have some water instead.”

“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business.” His words were mumbled, rolling out on a lazy tongue.

“I'm not doing this. You don't make sense. I'm leaving.” I tried to step around him, but he held his arm up to block me. “Dylan, let me by,” I commanded as my eyes met his.

Dylan's eyes veered, stilling on mine. “I saw you earlier at the bar flirting with that guy. Am I not good enough for you? Do you think you're so much better than me that I don't deserve the time of day? You have no idea how good I can make you feel if you just let me.”

“You're married and more than twice my age. So, the answer is yes. You're absolutely not good enough for me, and you don't deserve one more second of my time. Now, if you'll excuse me—” I was saying as I tried to move around Dylan again, but he refused to let me pass.

“Let me get this straight. You have no problem whoring around with a stranger, but I'm somehow beneath you? Do you really think you're better than me? Because you're not. You're just a pussy that needs to be tamed.”

“Dylan, stop,” I said sternly. “I'm not doing this.” I made another attempt to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me close. “Let me go,” I demanded.

“Not yet,” he snapped quietly.

Dylan pulled me to a doorway and shoved it open. It led to another empty banquet hall. The lights were low, barely bright enough to cast shadows on the far wall. He squeezed my wrist harder. His fingers burned against my skin as he dug in hard.

“I see you for who you are. You're a goddamn slut. You were ready to spread your fucking legs for that guy. But I've got something better to give you.” Dylan yanked me in so our chests were touching.

“Stop. Let me go, Dylan,” I growled. “I don't want anything to do with you. And I never will. So you might as well get the thought out of your fucking head.”

“But you'll fuck anyone else in a suit. Is that what you're saying?” He leaned in, placed his lips against my ear, and whispered. “I always knew you were a trashy little whore. You're a stain on this empire, just like your mother.”

Tears bubbled up over my eyes as my lip began to tremble with sadness and rage. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Oh, Poppy, you naive little twit. You really are just like your mother.

Your mother was a crazy fucking lunatic.

She made your father look bad. She made all of us look bad.

Your father couldn't control her, and it showed. By the attitude you have, it looks like your father might not be able to control you either.”

“Don't talk about my mother. It wasn't her fault.

She couldn't help it. She was sick. She—” It dawned on me that I didn't have to explain shit to him.

He was nothing to me. Dylan wasn't in charge of a damn thing.

He had no control over my life. No power over me at all. “You know what? Fuck you, Dylan.”

“It bothers you when you have to hear the truth, doesn't it? You still want to protect her. You're still making excuses for her.”

“My mother wasn't in the right frame of mind. She made mistakes. She—”

“Poppy, your mother belonged in a fucking mental institution. She never belonged with us.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright,” Dylan said as he smiled. “Your wish is my command.” He forcefully wrapped his arm around my waist, keeping me in place.

His breath stank of wine and caviar with the faint odor of Iberico ham.

I twisted my face as he tried to kiss me.

“Get off me!” I yelled. I desperately hoped someone else would hear me, but no one did.

The music was too loud, the people were too involved with each other, and the waiters were too busy.

I was like a child screaming for help from inside a closed refrigerator.

“No, I don't think so. I want what I want. And I get what I want.” Dylan's hand swept over my thigh, and his fingers began to pull up my dress. He clutched me so tightly that I could barely breathe.

“Don't do this. You don't want to be this man.”

“I'm already this man, Poppy. So don't bother begging me to stop. It won't work.” Dylan gripped the center of my dress and ripped it. There was no resistance from the threads. The thin fabric split easily up the side.

My back hit the wall as I tried to wiggle out of his grasp. I was trapped. Caged like a bird. He started to unbutton his pants when a noise startled him. Dylan's head jerked toward the sound, and I took the chance to escape.

I kneed him in the cock, causing him to drop to his knees, and I ran.

I ran out of the room and to the first door I found.

The exit opened to the outside. I was smacked in the face with icy cold air.

Tears were streaming down my face as my chest heaved with anger.

So much anger. How dare he talk about my mother like that. How dare he try to force himself on me.

I have to get out of this place. I don't belong with these people.

My heels dug into the soft ground as I kept walking with no direction in mind. I could hear the thud of my heart pounding against the quiet backdrop of trees and the faint hum of music inside. I stopped, allowing my heels to sink all the way into the earth to the point it felt like I was barefoot.

I looked up at the clear night sky, my eyes swollen with painful tears.

The stars glittered like fireflies suspended in time.

For a brief moment, I could feel her. I could feel my mother.

She was all around me. She was in the air I was breathing and the ground that was holding me up.

A sense of calm settled over me as if she were hugging me using the universe as her arms.

A twig cracked behind me, exploding through the silence. My ears perked, but I kept looking straight ahead, just listening. The silence elongated through the air like music from a speaker. Another branch snapped, cutting through the dense quiet.

I thought I was all alone. I thought that I had removed myself from the rest of the world. I was wrong.

I attempted to look over my shoulder, but I barely had the chance.

A large, gloved hand swiftly covered my mouth, muffling the scream that instinctively tried to escape.

Everything just stopped right then: my heart, my breathing, the noises between my ears, the voice inside my head.

I was frozen, unable to move or think, and then there was nothing.

No sky. No breeze. No fleeting voices behind closed windows. Just blackness.

A blackness that left me feeling weightless and unaware.

A blackness that felt endless.