Page 20 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #8)
The California mountains hold fast onto memories—I’ve known this for a long time. They rise sharp against the evening sky as I circle the cabin's perimeter, checking sight lines and escape routes with mechanical precision. Every shadow seems to hold echoes of the past—training runs at the barracks with other young Alphas, learning to track through these same forests. Planning futures that felt inevitable before Kane, before everything changed.
I grew up not far from here, before it all went up in smoke. Now, it’s not worth thinking about.
The security cameras are exactly where I remember, cleverly concealed in trees and under eaves. My pack has maintained this safe house network for years, though I never thought I'd bring Camila to one. I never thought I'd be back in California, much less with her. The irony tastes bitter as mountain sage on my tongue.
Through the cabin's windows, I catch glimpses of her moving restlessly through the rooms. Her scent has shifted again—that strange new note that makes my wolf pace with undefined anxiety. She's been quiet since our almost-conversation about the past, since I nearly told her everything. Since she fled to the porch like my words might burn her.
The secure phone buzzes in my pocket, Asher's signal. Modern technology layered over old instincts, just like everything else about our lives now.
"Asher," I say quietly, positioning myself where I can watch both Camila through the windows and the approaches to the cabin.
“I’m alive.” Asher's voice carries that particular mix of professional calm and personal dryness that I've come to rely on. “If you care to know.
Hope flares sharp and bright in my chest. "I called a few times.”
"Hard to answer while unconscious." He pauses, and I hear papers shuffling. It’s typical for him to work even from bed. “You’re in California."
It isn’t a question.
My hands tighten on the phone. "Yes. You’re in Rosecreek, still.”
“Yeah. Not going to be moving anywhere for a while, Marcus.”
“And you definitely still have your…?”
Marcus laughs in the back of his throat. “Of course. And I’m going to be fine, for the record. Everyone here is fine. Progress is being made on a cure for their serum, with the help of Veronica and Rosa, but it’s slow-going. But… it’s progress, I guess. We’re all worried about you both.”
“Camila’s fine,” I say automatically, though it isn’t true, and Asher probably knows me well enough to know that. “We both are.”
Movement inside catches my eye—Camila stood in the kitchen, pressing a hand to her mouth like she's fighting back grief or tears or nausea. She's been doing that more lately, though she tries to hide it. Add it to the growing list of changes I can't quite understand: her altered scent, her sudden aversion to certain foods, her quiet, her sadness that seems to grow each day.
"The team wants to move closer to your position," Asher continues, dragging my attention back. "We’ll be on the road as soon as I’m… portable. Maia’s been helping us with str—strategy.” He coughs hard, once.
Something shifts in his voice at Maia's name, subtle but unmistakable. I file the information away automatically, noting how his scent spikes with interest he's trying to hide.
"Maia's helping?" I keep my tone carefully neutral.
Asher coughs again. “She’s good with… strategy.”
A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. In years as my second, I've never heard Asher stumble over words like this. "Just… strategy?"
"Marcus." His warning tone carries no real heat. "Focus. Elena's coordinating transport routes. If we move in stages, using the sanctuary network—"
Static cuts through his words, followed by Elena's voice, sharp with urgency.
"Sorry to cut in, boys. Kane's forces have entered California, and we’ve got confirmation they crossed the border." She speaks clearly, quickly, lowly. "Two teams spotted at different locations—one near Redding, one fifty miles outside Sacramento. They're searching systematically, but... they don't seem to have your exact location yet. But they know you’re in the state, Marcus. You can lay low, but you don’t have infinite time.”
Ice floods my veins.
Because this is what I've been dreading since we crossed the state line—Kane bringing his violence back to where everything began. Back to where he killed my parents, where he first showed me how love becomes a weapon in his hands.
"How close to Sacramento?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
"Far enough for now, but they're being methodical. Moving in a search pattern that suggests they know we're somewhere in Northern California. The good news is they seem to be focusing on the larger cities first. Your location is remote enough that we should have some warning if they start moving this way."
"Recommendations?"
"Stay put for now," Elena says after a moment's consideration. "The cabin's defensible, and movement would just risk exposing your position. When you get a chance, dump the car in another town. We'll monitor their search patterns, give you updates if anything changes. Just... be careful, Marcus. We both know Kane's patient. He's willing to take his time to get what he wants."
I watch Camila curl up on the couch through the windows, her exhaustion visible even from outside. Something innate and protective surges through me at the sight—the need to shelter, to defend, to keep her safe from everything coming for us.
"Maintain distance," I order, already moving toward the cabin. "Don't engage unless necessary. And Elena? Be careful."
The line goes dead, leaving me with my thoughts and burdens.
Inside, the cabin feels smaller somehow, more intimate. Camila's asleep on the couch, her dark curls spilling across the cushions like ink. She’s unmoving, breathing slowly.
I should wake her. Should tell her about Kane's approach, about the need to move soon. She deserves to know.
Instead, I find myself moving closer, drawn by instincts I can't quite name. Her scent wraps around me. When I lift her carefully, she makes a soft sound that hits me low in the gut, but doesn't wake.
The bedroom feels like neutral territory and forbidden ground all at once. I lay her on the bed as gently as possible, meaning to retreat to the chair by the window.
But before I can move away, she curls toward me in her sleep, seeking warmth or comfort or something I'm not sure I can give her anymore.
I shouldn't, I tell myself even as I'm sliding onto the mattress beside her. This isn't safe. This isn't—
She burrows closer, fitting against me like she was made for it. Like no time has passed since we were here last, since I ruined everything trying to keep her safe. Her heart beats steady against my chest, its rhythm soothing something raw and aching in my soul.
My arms tighten around her automatically as she makes another small sound in her sleep. Something fierce rips through me—not just my usual need to keep her safe, but something deeper. Something that makes my wolf pace with an undefined purpose.
Through the windows, the mountains loom dark against the star-scattered sky. Somewhere out there, Kane hunts us through the California night. Somewhere to the north, my pack moves closer, bringing news of possible hope. And here in this bed, holding everything I've ever wanted and everything I'm terrified to lose, I wonder if running will ever be enough.
If love really is the weakness, Kane thinks it is, or if it's the only strength that matters.
If I'm protecting Camila, or just delaying the inevitable.
She sighs in her sleep, pressing against my chest, and my resolve crumbles like a mountain stone. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent, letting myself pretend just for a moment that this could last. That I could keep her safe this time. That whatever's changing in her—this shift in her scent, in her behavior, in the way she moves through the world—isn't another weapon Kane will use against us both.
The mountains hold memories like teeth, sharp and waiting. But here in the darkness, holding my mate while danger circles ever closer, I let myself remember how it felt to believe in forever.
Even if forever only lasts until morning.