Chapter 145: _ Broken Pretty Flower_Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother

<h4>Chapter 145: _ Broken Pretty Flower</h4>

 "Mateo!"

 I blinked when María Jose snapped with frustration.

 Right.

 I was supposed to be responding.

 I forced myself to focus, shaking off the intoxicating pull of her presence. "No one saw me," I finally murmured, though my voice came out slightly rougher than I intended.

 She exhaled in relief. "Good. Because if someone did..."

 I reached for her hands, cradling them gently between mine.

 She froze.

 "How have you been, angel?" I asked in a soft voice.

 Her lips parted as though she were about to respond for a moment there before she changed her mind and just stared at me.

 Then, to myplete and utter horror, She yanked her hands away.

 And took a step back.

 I squinted in surprise. Was that a little bit of... hostility toward me?

 "Stay away from me," she muttered, her tone sharper than I had ever heard it.

 Was that my 

 I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"

 Her jaw tightened. "I said, stay away from me."

 I stared at María José, my mind struggling to process what I had just heard.

 "Stay away from me."

 Had she lost her mind?

 I blinked slowly, my hands still outstretched from when she had yanked hers away. The warmth of her skin remained on my palms, teasing me.

 "Excuse me?" I rasped, narrowing my eyes.

 Her lips tightened, her soft facial features hardening into something I didn’t like—something I didn’t want on her face.

 Defiance.

 "I said, stay away from me," she snapped again, way sharper this time.

 Oh, no. No, no, no. That would not do.

 I tilted my head, staring at her as if she had just sprouted another head. "What did you just say to me, angel?"

 Her eyes red with something that made my fingers twitch at my sides; anger, frustration... pain.

 She folded her arms across her chest, looking at me like I was the worst kind of filth to ever walk the earth.

 And I hated it.

 My stomach twisted, and a slow burn of irritation and confusion roared like ava in the depths of my mind.

 What the hell had Axel done to her?

 Because this... this wasn’t my María José. This wasn’t the soft, timid little flower I had met in that pigsty. This wasn’t the girl who had stared at me with wide, tear-filled eyes, looking forfort—looking for me.

 This was someone else. Someone who bared her teeth at me. Someone who dared to push me away.

 And I didn’t like her.

 I stepped closer, forcing myself to remain calm, even as my hands itched to grab her, to shake some sense into her, to remind her who she belonged to.

 To me, Amor. You belong to me. 

 "María José," I murmured, my voice softer now and coaxing, as if I was talking to a frightened animal. "Do you remember me? It’s me, Luis. From the pigsty."

 Her jaw clenched, but she gave me a look like I was stupid. "Of course, I remember you. How could I ever forget you?"

 Well. That didn’t sound very affectionate.

 I arched a brow, waiting for her to continue.

 Her nostrils red, and her hands balled into fists. "You pretended to be a good person," she hissed. "You came to me like you cared, like you wanted tofort me. But all along, your n was to kill the pigs!"

 I blinked.

 "...What?"

 She was serious.

 She thought I killed the pigs? My friends? My unpaid entertainers? My human flesh-eating machines?!

 I let out a shortugh, certain I had misheard her. "I’m sorry, what did you just say?"

 "You killed them, didn’t you?" she snapped, taking a step forward. "Don’t y dumb, Mateo. I know you did it."

 For a moment, I just stared at her, utterly baffled. Why on earth would she think such?

 Then, the realization sank in.

 Oh.

 Oh, that was rich.

 A slow grin spread across my lips, though my amusement was quickly overshadowed by disbelief. "Wait. Wait—you actually think I killed those pigs?"

 Her lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders rising and falling with each sharp breath she took.

 "I know you did."

 I let out a breathy chuckle, dragging a hand through my hair. "Cari?o, I hate to break it to you, but you’re using the wrong person."

 Her eyes burned with rage. "Then tell me—did the pigs die that night?"

 I squinted my eyes, skeptical. This was a trap question.

 Well. Shit.

 I schooled my features into something more neutral. "...I don’t know. Did they?"

 She scoffed. "Oh, <ie on! You know they did! And you know exactly what happened to them, don’t you?"

 I sighed, shaking my head. "I heard about it. It shocked me too."

 But she wasn’t having it. She let out a humorlessugh, taking another step back. "Oh, how convenient! You heard about it!"

 "Because I didn’t do it."

 "Then who did?"

 I shrugged. "How the hell should I know? Maybe it was someone else. Maybe it was some other bastard trying to mess with your father’s business. But I promise you, angel, it wasn’t me."

 Herugh this time was bitter, filled with something that made my stomach churn ufortably. "Oh, please. Do you think I’m an idiot?"

 "No, I think you’re confused," I corrected, my patience thinning. "Because I..."

 "You saw my desperation," she interrupted, her voice rising and eyes glistening with emotion. "You saw my suffering. You pretended to be my friend, just so you could—so you could..."

 I took a deep breath, trying to reel in my frustration. "María José..."

 "I was punished because of you!" she screamed, her voice breaking.

 I froze.

 A cold weight settled in my chest.

 Punished?

 "I—I was med for it," she continued, her voice shaking now. "I was beaten because of you! Do you even know what that was like?"

 Oh.

 Oh, Dios mío.

 She had been beaten for something I didn’t even do?

 A foreign emotion that I wasn’t aware I could feel coiled in my stomach... something that almost felt like guilt.

 But worse than that... was the rage.

 Don Diego beat her?

 I was going to kill him.

 But before I could even process that thought, sheughed bitterly, her eyes wet and furious. "Do you want to know the worst part, Mateo?"

 I stayed silent, my fists clenching at my sides.

 She took a shaky breath. "Nobody believed me."

 I swallowed.

 "Nobody believed I wasn’t alone in that pigsty. Nobody believed that you were there." She met my gaze, and then, her voice cracked as she shouted—"Do you know why?"

 I clenched my jaw.

 "Because you don’t exist!"

 My heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

 The words hit me like a freight train, leaving me reeling.

 Because she was right.

 The position I had imed in their household—my little lie about being one of Don Diego’s guards wasn’t valid.

 To them, to her father, to everyone in this godforsaken estate... I didn’t exist.

 And because of that... María José had suffered.

 Oh.

 Oh, I was going to burn this entire fucking house down.

 But more than that, I was going to fix this.

 I looked at her, my breathing slow and steady as I stared at my beautiful, angry, broken little flower.

 I should have been mad at her for speaking to me like this. For yelling. For daring to act like I was her enemy.

 But all I could think about... was how badly I wanted to ruin her. To pin her beneath me... of sweat and moans.

 To take all of this anger, all of this pain, all of this defiance... and mold it into something else.

 To have her sobbing, begging, calling me Big Bad Daddy Luis in that sweet, broken voice of hers, pleading for my mercy, pleading for me to im her, to make her mine.

 Because she was.

 Even if she didn’t know it yet.

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Chapter 145: _ Broken Pretty Flower