Rejected Their Broken Luna Chapter 192: Chap-192*The Unfiltered Anger*

Cynthia Dion:

"Do you realize the toll this time has taken on me? Atticus! I can't erase the memory of how you branded me and then abandoned me to the whims of that brute. I was terrified when he whisked me away on my honeymoon and unveiled the test results for my pregnancy. I was torn, unsure whether to rejoice or weep because he had discovered the truth. I was by myself, and the father of my child was --," forgiving him was an uphill battle.

Each time I believe I've made progress, I regress to that period, recalling one detail or another.

"Why? Why did you subject me to that? Why didn't the punishment cease? Why not just reveal whatever evidence you have, allowing me a fair chance to present my side, and then, if I couldn't prove my innocence, end it all by killing me? Why?" I found myself in tears once more. Every victory I achieve is tainted by the memory of all I've lost.

"You murdered your own father after he -- killed your sister," he sank onto the bed, running his hands over his face. "I had evidence that, if exposed, would ensure you could never live it down," he confidently asserted, and my heart sank in my chest.

"Is someone documenting my every move?" I inquired, "Perhaps while I was asleep?" I couldn't fathom what was so unsettling about these purported videos.

"Cynthia! I aimed to discipline you, but believe me, every time I marked or touched you, it wasn't meant as punishment. I yearned to be close to you. I was desperate, but then the realization of the torment my sister endured would hit me, causing me to either pull away or inadvertently hurt you. The intimate moments were genuine. Pushing you away was a necessity," he sounded defeated, and so did I.

I'm uncertain when this conflict between me and these people will conclude, but, at least, I'm in control now.

"Promise me one thing," I said as I settled beside him.

"Don't be the one to oust Mr. Holt," I urged, and he turned to face me.

"Whatever punishment he deserves, I'll be the one to administer it," I declared, and he continued to gaze blankly at me.

"Promise me, Atticus!" I reiterated, and this time, he acquiesced.

"I promise!"

After conversing for a few more minutes, he rose to go and speak with Maleeka, who was still pregnant and likely in tears.

As he left the room, an impulse to confront Mr. Holt surged within me. I still held some leverage over him, and I couldn't wait to wield it against him too. I reached the garden and, as anticipated, found him seated with his eyes closed, likely scheming against me.

"Ahem!" I cleared my throat to grab his attention. He opened his eyes and stared vacantly at my face.

"So! It must be quite challenging," I muttered, and he frowned when he didn't grasp what I was insinuating.

"Excuse me?" He sat up straight, maintaining eye contact, awaiting an explanation.

"I see you're sitting all alone. Perhaps the stench of your rotten soul has started to bother your partner too," I grinned, relishing the frown that crept onto his forehead.

"Your wolf waking up ruined your mannersims," he commented, but surprisingly, he refrained from making any threats.

"It must be quite a challenge to be so good-looking that every young girl is after you," I remarked, sensing he caught on. He rolled his eyes and feigned indifference.

"How did your scheming go?" I inquired, and he released a deep sigh.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't plan anything," he concluded, showing little interest in making threats. It was the first time he didn't appear particularly invested in intimidating me or engaging in conversation.

"Of course, you'd have given your 'special friend' better advice, but she ruined all the fun for you," as I brought up that part, I noticed his body twitch.

"She's not my 'special friend'; she just had a crush on me, that's all," he defended himself almost instantly, glancing around, perhaps thinking I was trying to extract a confession.

"There's nobody around; spill the beans. I'll keep it under wraps," I smirked, and I wager he grunted while clenching his jaw. My happiness appeared to be the last thing he wanted to witness.

"What do you want, Cynthia?" he asked. It was strange how he had nothing substantial to say to me this time. This loss must have made him feel like he couldn't win all the time.

"There's nothing you can offer me. In fact, I came here to extend my condolences for the demise of your ---," before I could complete my sentence, he jolted to his feet, evidently displeased by my words.

"Aren't you flying too high?" His eyes swept over me, and a malicious grin stretched across his lips. There it was -- the bastard Mr. Holt that I know.

"Maybe you're forgetting that my mate loves me unconditionally. You'd better start watching your back because soon your own mate will see the darkness within you, and when that happens, he'll never want to see your face again. Have you ever considered where you'll go after that? You don't have family or friends, or wait!" He smirked wider, infuriating me further, saying, "You can always come to me. My arms are always open for you, and I promise I'll be gentle too." As he whispered those words, the memory of him assaulting me and causing the loss of my child flashed in my mind.

It triggered me so much that I lost my composure and didn't think about anything else. I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could; the resounding slap echoed, likely audible to people in the mansion, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to understand that there would be consequences for his malicious intentions against me from now on.

“How ---,” he gasped in shock but I didn’t budge. I was ready to attack him if it came down to that.