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“What the fuck?” The photo she’d sent me a week ago vanished as well, the one with her standing in front of the mirror, making a face. That was one of my favorites.

Then the next vanished, and the next.

One by one her photos and messages disappeared.

I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding, my stomach clenching tight.

Her little updates, telling me about her day, what she’d been doing, how work was going, they were all being deleted as well.

Shaking my phone, I roared at it, stabbing at the screen, as if that could stop what was happening.

She was deleting them all, months’ worth of messages and photos—until there was nothing left.

Until she’d taken everything she’d given me away.

A pounding filled my ears as blood flooded my extremities. I curled my fingers into tight fists when my skin flushed hot. My chest, it felt weird—there was pain. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking swallow.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I feel this way? Why did I feel any-fucking-thing? They were just photos—they were just silly fucking messages.

If that’s all it was, then why did it feel as if I were coming apart, as if my world had been torn out from under me?

It was barely daybreak when I rolled up to the little cottage on the outskirts of Linville, only a short ride from the clubhouse.

Grabbing the bags from the back of the truck, I strode up to the front door. I’d cut most of one stag into steaks, and a few larger pieces for roasting. There was enough here to last a good long while.

The sound of a guitar, of Lenny’s soft voice singing, stopped abruptly when I knocked.

A moment later, the curtains twitched, and one big brown eye peered at me through the small gap.

I lifted the bags. “Venison. Thought your freezer might be getting low?” Lothar said he’d keep an eye on the place, and it looked like he’d taken care of the yard while I’d been gone, but the skittish little female was my responsibility, no one else’s.

The curtain dropped, and her light tread could be heard through the door as she approached. “Okay…uh, thanks,” she said through the wood.

She wasn’t going to let me in, she never did. I put the bags down in front of the door, planted my hands on my hips, and looked at my boots, knowing she’d be watching me through the peephole and not wanting to freak her out by staring back. “You need anything else, Lenny?”

“No, thank you.”

I nodded. “Okay, babe, you got my number if you need anything, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna head off, but you call if you need me.”

Silence.

With no other choice, I got back in my truck and headed to the clubhouse.

The garage was already open when I pulled in.

Relic and Fender were sipping their morning coffees and getting ready for work.

I got out, lifted the second stag from the back of the truck, and carried it behind the workshop to the walk-in chiller to hang it.

When I came back around, Fender was looking down at his phone, scowling.

I heard someone say Sutton’s name through the speakers.

“What are you watching?” I said, closing in on him.

His scowl lifted to me. “Someone from Draven’s pack posted this on Nightscape.” His scowl deepened. “What the actual fuck, man?”

I snatched his phone, then thrust it back. “Make it play from the start.” I didn’t know how to work all this shit. Maybe if I did, I could have stopped Sutton from deleting all those photos and messages or saved them somehow.

Fender tapped something on the screen and handed it back, and I watched as Sutton stood at the tall table, looking at the female beside me with her arm around my waist. Sutton’s veins turned black, her eyes shifting, now swirling red and black.

“I—I’d like you to s-stop touching him.” Her voice broke, shaking, and I could see the rest of her was as well even on the small screen.

“What the fuck did you s-s-s-say to me?” the wolf said, mimicking Sutton.

I growled.

“I think you heard me.” Sutton squared her shoulders a little.

The wolf screwed up her face. “What the fuck is wrong with your face? Freaky-looking bitch.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. I’d been too busy trying to wrestle down my hunger for her when she walked up, and the blood that had been rushing through my fucking ears had blocked everything out. I hadn’t even heard the wolf say that shit.

I watched the rest unfold, while I just fucking stood there and let Sutton be disrespected, humiliated, in front of everyone. While Fern tried to lead her away—when she’d looked up at me again.

“Jagger…”

Every muscle in my body jerked at her voice saying my name through the speaker. Fern tried to draw her away again while Sutton looked at me with wide eyes.

“Jagger?” she said again. I fucking hated the look of betrayal on her face. “What are you doing?” she rasped.

“What are you talking about?” My voice rang out.

Fern tried again to pull her away. “You know. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Sutton. Spell it out.”

Her pretty, swirling red eyes sliced through me. “You’re my mate. We’re…mates.” Her voice was a barely there whisper.

My shock was obvious. “Female, you’re confused.”

“I’m not.” She shook her head. “Your scent…you gave me your shirt, and?—”

“I wanted you to stop crying.”

“No…that’s not what happened. I’m not…” She was stuttering, flustered. “You kissed me, and I felt it, I felt?—”

“You kissed me, Sutton,” I said to her. “I’m not your mate, that’s impossible.”

My fingers curled into a tight fist as her expression went from betrayal to horror, then devastation. Loyalty, anger, and lust may be the extent of my emotions, but Lucifer gave us the ability to recognize others, to understand them, and I wanted to take my own fucking eyes out.

A smile curled her lips, and I realized that wasn’t Sutton’s smile, it didn’t reach her eyes, it didn’t make her whole face light up. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I was…sorry,” she said again. “I was confused. I think I…I need to go now.”

She stumbled back, looking around while people stared at her, laughed at her, while the wolves filming her talked shit about her. And I did nothing.

“Put those fucking phones down.” That was Relic.

Sutton spun away then, running for the door. The crowd had closed in, and I’d lost sight of her at that point, but then again, I’d forced myself to look away.

I snarled viciously when I saw what actually happened after she ran. She’d tripped, hitting the ground hard. Her familiar had exploded from her coat, while she lay there, her dress tossed up, her bag sliding across the floor, her things going everywhere, clothes, underwear, a toothbrush.

She’d packed as if she’d planned to stay.

Then it hit me, she thought she’d be staying at the clubhouse—with me.

I was growling continuously now, and there was no stopping it. I didn’t like the strange sensations inside me, or the physical responses that came with them, like I was burning up, like I was in someone else’s body and mind. No, I fucking hated them.

Fern and Willow helped her up and gathered her things, while the female filming laughed and said a bunch of shit about how Sutton looked.

Then I saw blood drip from her lip to the floor, more when she stood, from her knee.

Willow said something, and Sutton held out her hand, her familiar finally coming back to her, then she glanced at the camera, then back to Willow and shook her head.

That’s how her fucking lip was split open. Then she shoved her way through the crowd and ran out to the parking lot.

Rage pumped through me. In the end, my instinct had insisted I go after her.

I’d told myself I’d just see if she was okay, instead I’d yelled at her while she’d cried, like a fucking deranged asshole.

Now I couldn’t work out if I was more pissed off at the wolves who’d filmed and posted that video, or myself.

No, I wasn’t her mate, but she hadn’t deserved that.

The beast slammed against my psyche, trying to break free, the roar in my head so loud that my fucking bones rattled. What the fuck ? Why was I so messed up over this little female? It didn’t make sense.

Fender pried his phone from my tight fist, then shook his head at the way it was now crushed on the sides.

“Brother, I thought you and Sutton?—”

“Don’t fucking think,” I snarled and strode away before I took all this rage out on the wrong person.

The truth was, if I could have a mate, if things weren’t so fucked up and I could have what War and Relic and Dirk had, I’d want that with her.

That’s why I’d stormed after her, that’s why I’d stopped her from leaving and acted like a giant prick, because she stirred something inside me, made me feel things, want things, that should be impossible—things that fucking terrified me.

Because if I could have a mate, I’d want it to be Sutton.

A mate wasn’t something I’d ever wanted, though, for several reasons—and I’d made a deal a long time ago to ensure that I never found one.

That’s how I knew Sutton wasn’t mine.

It was impossible.