Page 14 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #8)

Dawn bleeds through the clinic windows far too soon, and I haven’t slept, but I know I will need to drive. I've been watching light creep across the floor for hours, marking time in inches of sun while my team tries to piece together what's left of our plans. The antiseptic smell has long since burned out my sense of anything else, though every now and then, I catch traces of Camila's scent—gunmetal and sandalwood underneath the sharp bite of medical supplies.

She’s perfectly still even now.

"Kane's people have fallen back to the old lumber mill, ten miles out," Elena reports, her voice rough from lack of sleep. The bandage on her head stands out stark against her dark hair. "But they're not leaving. Just... waiting. And as far as we can tell, Kane lived.”

"They’re waiting on reinforcements, probably," Asher adds from his position by the door. He hasn't moved from guard stance in hours, though his wounds must be aching. None of us are healing right after yesterday's fight. "They know we were here. They’ll expect us to run.”

Unspoken: only some of us will.

James doesn't look up from where he's checking his own bandages. His face is pinched with pain, but he doesn’t complain.

"You’re going," Elena says quietly. "I knew we might end up separated, but I didn’t think…”

The words hang in the air like smoke. Through the pack bonds, I feel the weight of memory—our compound burning, Fiona screaming as the serum took her shift, Michael's silence afterward. All of it is my fault. All of it because I wasn't careful enough, wasn't fast enough, wasn't—

Movement from the bed draws my attention. Camila stirs, her eyes fluttering open.

For a moment, she looks younger somehow, vulnerable in a way that makes my wolf snarl with protective fury. Then awareness floods back, and with it comes that familiar steel I've come to associate with this new version of her.

"What—" She tries to sit up, wincing at the movement. "What happened?"

"Easy," James says, moving to check her vitals. "You took a nasty hit to the head. The fever broke a few hours ago, but you need to—"

"We need to move." The words come out harsher than intended, but time is running out. Through the windows, I can see Rosecreek coming awake—pack members moving with careful precision, watching the borders. Waiting for Kane's next move. "Kane's people will regroup soon. We have maybe hours before—"

"I'm not going anywhere." Camila's voice is rough but determined as she pushes herself upright. "This is my home. My pack. I won't—"

"This isn't a discussion." Alpha authority creeps into my tone without conscious thought. "Kane's already seen you. Already knows—" I cut myself off before I can say too much. "You're coming with me. Now."

Her eyes flash gold, wolf rising to challenge my command. "The hell I am. You don't get to order me around, Marcus. You lost that right five years ago."

"Camila—"

"No." She swings her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring James's protests. "You don't get to just show up here and start making decisions about my life again. I won't—"

Asher's voice cuts through our argument: “Marcus, if you’re going to leave, you need to leave now. Aris’ team have spotted scouts out on the roads. You need to go south, and you need to go soon.”

I feel pummeled by the words, by their haste. I can’t lose focus, can’t crumble under the pressure. Elena's already moving to her computers, fingers flying over keys. “One of their guys, Zane, is pulling up a car.”

"How long?" I demand, already calculating escape routes, defensive positions, all the ways this could go wrong.

"Five minutes. Maybe less. Whatever you need, you can buy it out on the road.”

James catches my eye, his expression grim. "I can't move yet, but if I could, I’d pat you on the back and say goodbye right about now."

"We'll be alright," Elena says firmly, not looking up from her screens. "We’ll move east as soon as we’re able, try to meet back up with some of the others. You get Camila out before Kane's people—"

"No." Camila's voice cracks like a whip. "Why is nobody listening to me? I won't leave my brother, my pack—" Her voice breaks on the following words: “I just got my own pack, aren’t you listening to me?! I can’t go—”

"You have to." The words tear from my throat before I can stop them. "Kane doesn't just kill his enemies, Camila. He destroys everything they love. Everyone they—" I stop, struggling for control. "He goes after mates first. Potential mates. Anyone he thinks might—"

I’m saying too much. I know.

But Camila is too furious to listen, to digest what I’m letting slip. “You can’t make this decision for me,” she rages, face waxy in the sterile light, eyes flashing angrily. “You can’t just—”

Asher's voice carries from the doorway: “The car’s out front.”

"We need to go. Now.” I move toward Camila, but she backs away, eyes wild.

“No,” she snaps. “No, stop—”

"There's no time." I reach for her, wolf howling as she flinches away. "Please, Camila, don’t make this difficult—"

"They’re closing the main road on the north side," Asher reports tersely. "Marcus—"

"I know." The words taste like ash. Because this is exactly what I tried to prevent five years ago—Camila in danger, Kane using her against me, history repeating itself in the worst possible way.

She must see something in my face because her expression shifts, softens slightly. She’s about to beg, I know. Beg me to leave her alone. Beg me not to force her into this. "Marcus—"

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, and I mean it. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way.”

For a moment, just a moment, I see her resolve waver. Then, her expression hardens again.

“I’ll bite you,” she threatens, “I’ll kill you, I’ll—”

I move before she can finish or try to fight or run. My arms wrap around her waist, lifting her bodily as she snarls in protest. Through the pack bonds, I feel Elena's approval, James's relief, Asher's grim understanding.

"I'm sorry," I tell Camila as she fights and kicks and screams against my grip. "I'm so sorry. But I won't let him hurt you. Not like—"

"Put me down!" Her nails dig into my arms, drawing blood. "Marcus, I swear to god—"

Ignoring her cries, I carry her toward the front exit, where a dark, broad four-wheeler sits parked up against the curb outside, waiting for us in the shadows. Her struggles grow more desperate, more furious, but I don't let go.

I can't.

Because Kane is coming, and this time I won't let him take anything else from me. Won't let him destroy another mate bond, another family, another person I love.

"I hate you," she snarls as I navigate the back stairs. "I hate you, I hate you—”

"I know." The words come out rough as I push through the exit door. "Hate me all you want. As long as you're alive to do it."

“At least let me say goodbye to my brother—”

But there’s no time. Dawn paints the world in shades of blood and shadow as I carry her toward the truck. The morning air tastes like fear and the cold makes my teeth ache. Camila's heart beats hard and fast where she’s held tight against my chest, the familiar rhythm of it drowning out everything else.

Through the pack bonds, I feel the mournful acceptance of my pack. I’ll miss them desperately, I know. But it’s better this way—for them and for Camila.

I wrestle her into the passenger seat, my hands shaking with more than just urgency. She fights me every inch of the way, all predator grace and righteous fury. Her eyes flash gold in the growing light, and for a moment, I see everyone I've ever failed to protect reflected in them—my parents, my pack members, all the people Kane has hurt to get to me.

"I will never forgive you for this," she snarls as I buckle her in, her claws leaving fresh marks on my arms. The scent of my blood mingles with gunsmoke and morning dew.

"I know." The words come out rough, heavy with everything I can't tell her. Not yet. Not until she's safe. "Hate me if you have to. Just stay alive to do it."

Through the windshield, I watch smoke rise far in the distance, above Rosecreek's rooftops like storm clouds. Everything I've tried to prevent for five years is happening anyway, and all I can do is run.

Again.

I slam the door of her side hard and lock it. Whatever she needs, we can buy with cash out on the road.

Forcing down my overwhelming guilt, my fear, my nausea, I slide behind the wheel just as another burst of gunfire splits the air. Camila's fury fills the car like smoke, an overwhelming and fierce force. She’s stopped fighting, stopped wrestling with her seatbelt and clawing at the door handle, but she glares out of the windshield onto the road with a ferocity I’ve never seen in her eyes before.

She hates me, I know. She meant it.

"This isn't over," she says quietly as I start the engine. The words carry more weight than threats, more promise than fury.

"I know," I say again, because what else can I say? How do I tell her that nothing's been over since the moment I met her? That everything—the running, the fighting, the desperate attempts to keep her safe—has led us right back here?

The truck roars to life as dawn bleeds across the sky. Behind us, Rosecreek prepares for battle. Ahead, the road stretches into uncertainty. And between us lie all the truths I still can't tell her, with five years of choices and consequences and things left unsaid.

I hit the gas.