Reborn With Revenge

Uninvited guest

(Alina)

The rain started to pour hard while I was walking. I didn't bother running for shelter like I saw other people doing; I welcomed the rain.

It cooled the fire within me; I hated Jason and Chelsea so much for what they did that nothing could phase me.

I kept on walking, trying to think about what I was going to do. I don't want to ever see Jason again, but I have to think of revenge. He and Chelsea killed me and plotted my murder like it was nothing but a joke for them. For what? Jason said that I brought nothing but stress to him. Saying that Chelsea gave him peace.

If I could, I would laugh. I gave him stress? When all I did was work hard to make sure that he was comfortable. I had to fly back and forth for meetings, made sure the bills were paid, cooked, cleaned, and even kept quiet when he came home late smelling like cheap perfume. And he says I gave him stress?

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I just kept walking. The rain soaked through my clothes, dripping down my face like tears I refused to let fall.

Chelsea. She used to smile like we were friends. She’d come over, bring wine, laugh at my jokes—meanwhile, she was sleeping with him behind my back. Plotting. Planning. And now they think they’ve won. That they’ve gotten rid of me.

But I’m still here.

They don’t know it yet, but I’m not the kind of girl you kill off and forget about. I’m going to make sure they feel every ounce of the pain they gave me. I just need time. A plan.

And when I come back, I won’t be the same Alina. They killed one version of me. What’s coming for them now… is something else entirely.

~~~~~~~~~~

I managed to find a small cafe and decided to get warmed up a bit there. I was still soaked as I sat down, but luckily for me no one came and kicked me out.

While I was trying to get the water out of my hair, a rag was pushed in front of my face.

I looked up and groaned when I saw who it was.

Damian Blackwood.

The one person who I was trying to stay away from. He's obsessed with me and never failed to show it even when he knew that I had a boyfriend. Even when he knew that I was engaged.

He continued to stalk me, dropped hints here and there letting me know that he would never stop.

I tried to stay away from him, but he just kept on showing up like a pain in the ass.

It's not that he's not handsome. Of course, he is. He's every woman's wet dream and then some. But at the time I was with Jason I never actually thought about anyone else.

"Come on, take it. you're soaking the place." He said with a charming smile, showing off his dimples.

Everyone here in Manhattan probably knew of him. He's mysterious, dark, powerful, handsome, and possessive of the things he cares most about.

I became one of those things. I didn’t say anything right away. I just stared at him as I wiped my face with the rag.

“You’re still following me,” I muttered, trying to sound bored even though I was anything but.

He tilted his head like he didn’t see the issue. “You say that like it’s new.”

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“I don’t listen very well.”

“No kidding.” I dropped the rag on the table and pushed my wet hair back. “I mean it this time, Damian. Stay away.”

“You look like you could use someone right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “I could use a lot of things. You’re not one of them.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking way too comfortable. Like he had all the time in the world. Like I didn’t just tell him to get lost.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said.

“I’m not pretending,” I snapped. “You’re not some hero, Damian. You’re not my savior.”

He smirked. “I never said I was.”

I stood up, but my legs were tired. Everything was tired. I didn’t even know where I was planning to go. I just knew I didn’t want to sit across from him any longer.

But before I could walk away, his voice stopped me. “You running again?”

I looked at him. “I’m not running. I’m walking away.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yeah,” I said. “One means I’m done. The other means I’m scared. I’m not scared of you.”

He stood too, slowly. “You should be.”

I crossed my arms. “You think you scare me? You think just because you’re rich and have people whispering your name I’m supposed to fall in line?”

“I don’t need you to fall in line,” he said. “I just need you to listen.”

“I’m done listening to men who want to control me.”

He stared at me for a long second. “I don’t want to control you.”

“No?” I raised my eyebrows. “So showing up wherever I am, talking like you know what’s best for me, that’s not control?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“Then why are you still here?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to the floor like he was thinking. When he looked up again, his face was serious. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I shook my head. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“No, Damian, you don’t,” I said. “You’ve been obsessed with me for years. That’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t react. Just kept watching me, calm like always. It pissed me off. I wanted him to get mad. To walk away. To say he’d had enough and leave me the hell alone.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, taking it all in.

“Do you want something?” I asked finally. “Because I’m tired and I don’t have the energy for whatever game you’re trying to play.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He stepped closer, and I didn’t move back, but every nerve in my body was on edge. I hated how he made me feel—like he knew something I didn’t. Like I was always one step behind him.

“I know you’re hurting,” he said.

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to say anything about what I’m feeling. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know what happened to me. You don’t know anything.”

His jaw tightened. "I know enough.”

“Then do yourself a favor and stay out of it.” I snapped.

“I can’t.”

I sighed, exhausted. “Why not?”

“Because I care.”

I laughed, but it came out hollow. “You care? That’s funny.”

“I do.”

“You care about the idea of me. Not me. You don’t know what I’ve had to do just to keep myself from falling apart.”

“Then tell me.”

“No.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but something stopped him. Maybe he knew I wouldn’t budge. Maybe he was finally getting it.

“I know I’m not what you want,” he said after a long pause.

“You’re not even close.”

“But I’m still here.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But maybe it’s also your solution.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, like he was debating something in his head.

“You always do this,” I said. “You show up, say some cryptic crap, and expect me to chase the meaning.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Alina.”

“Then stop showing up.”

He stepped even closer, and I stayed still. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid. I wasn’t. I just hated that he made me feel like I couldn’t breathe when he was this close.

“I’m not leaving,” he said.

“You’re not staying.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you hear what I have to say.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”

He smiled faintly. “You really hate me, huh?”

“I don’t hate you. I just want nothing to do with you.”

“Too late for that.”

I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

I turned to walk away again, but this time he reached out and grabbed my wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop me. I looked at his hand, then at him.

“Let go.”

He did, right away. No fight. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”

“Just say what you came to say and then get out of my life.”

He hesitated.

I waited.

Then he said, “I have a proposition for you.”