Page 27 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #8)
The marble floors beneath my feet are slick with blood and brass shell casings, marking our violent path through Kane's compound. Every surface gleams with obscene wealth—crystal chandeliers casting fractured light across mahogany panels, gilt frames holding priceless art, all of it a monument to Kane's twisted vision of shifter supremacy.
Marcus moves ahead of me with lethal grace, checking corners as we navigate the labyrinth of corridors. Even now, even after everything, he tries to keep himself between me and danger. Part of me wants to bristle at the protectiveness, but I understand it better now. The weight of our child beneath my heart changes everything.
Kane's voice echoes through the compound’s overhead speakers, all cultured malice: "Did I ever tell you about the day I killed them? About how your father begged at the end?"
"Trying to get in our heads," Marcus mutters, but I catch the tremor in his hands as he reloads his weapon. "Classic psychological warfare."
"Oh, this isn't warfare." Kane's laugh bounces off marble and mahogany—he’s watching us, listening to us. "This is family history. Educational, really. Your child should know about its grandfather's weakness, how he died whimpering about cooperation and peace like a coward."
A door slams somewhere ahead. Marcus tenses, scenting the air. Without his enhanced senses, I can't parse the complex layers of scent, but the click of boots on marble tells me all I need to know.
"He's herding us," I whisper, noting the blocked exits, the strategic placement of Kane's remaining forces. "Driving us somewhere specific."
Marcus nods grimly. "The centre of the compound, I think.”
"Getting sentimental in my old age." Kane's voice drips false warmth. "Thought we could make this a proper family reunion. Your parents died trying to unite our kinds. Seems fitting their son should die the same way, right alongside the wife and pup.”
We round the corner into an architectural fever dream—soaring ceilings, marble columns thick as redwood trunks, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the mountain valley. The space breathes old money and older violence.
Kane stands at the center of it all, still immaculate in his tailored suit. The modified pistol in his hands looks almost delicate, but I've seen what those serum darts can do.
Behind him, a dozen guards maintain covering positions with military precision.
"I had such hopes for you once." Kane's voice carries genuine regret. "Your bloodline is ancient, pure. You could have been magnificent. Once upon a time, I believed in your father and his family. But he was weak. And just when I thought you might be different… Instead, you followed your father's path. Chose weakness.”
He inclines his head toward me. I scowl, head still spinning.
"I chose strength," Marcus counters, voice steady despite the odds against us. "Real strength. Not whatever twisted thing you're selling."
Kane's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Ah yes, the power of love. It’s an admirable thing to cry about until someone opens your throat. Where’s love then?”
The pistol rises with elegant precision. My heart stutters as the barrel aligns with my chest.
"History repeats," Kane muses. "Though this time, there's a third generation to consider. Tell me, Marcus, which should I kill first? Your mate, or your unborn child?"
Several things happen at once.
Marcus launches himself forward, faster than I thought possible. Kane's finger tightens on the trigger. The dart meant for my heart strikes Marcus's chest with terrible accuracy.
The sound Marcus makes as the serum takes hold will haunt my nightmares.
His shift ripples beneath his skin like a dying star, trying desperately to manifest as the chemicals strip away everything that makes him more than human.
He staggers but stays upright, placing himself between me and Kane with stubborn defiance.
"Predictable." Kane sighs like a disappointed teacher. "Just like your father, throwing yourself in front of those you love. He did the same thing, you know. Tried to shield your mother even after I took his shift. Such noble weakness."
Marcus's breathing comes ragged, but his voice stays steady as he tears the dart out of his chest with one shaking hand: "You talk too much."
Kane's perfect composure cracks. "Insolent pup. I'll make you watch as I tear them apart. Then maybe you'll understand what real strength—"
The crystal shard I've been concealing slices through air and flesh as I surge forward, opening a line of red across Kane's cheek as I whip my makeshift weapon down through the air. His eyes widen in genuine shock as blood mars his perfect suit.
"You were saying?" My voice comes out deadly calm. "Something about real strength?"
Guards move to intervene, but Kane waves them back. His mask of civility slips, revealing something ancient and terrible beneath. "You dare?"
"Five years." I shift my stance, remembering countless hours of training in war zones across the world. "Five years learning to fight without relying on shifter strength. Want to see what else I picked up?"
The fight explodes like a thunderclap.
Kane moves with inhuman speed, but I'm ready for it. The skills I learned in a dozen countries flow through muscle and bone, and I fight dirty, throwing elbows and stabbing out my makeshift weapon with abandon, aiming for his throat.
Marcus, even without his shift, reads my moves like a language he's fluent in. When Kane tries to flank me, Marcus is there with purely human precision. We move together like we've been fighting side by side for years, covering each other's blind spots, creating openings for each other to exploit.
Kane's composure cracks further as we press him back.
"Kill them!" he barks at his guards. "Kill them both!"
Gunfire erupts, but we're already moving. I roll behind a marble column, snatching up a fallen guard's pistol. Years of practicing with every weapon I could find pay off as I return fire with deadly accuracy.
Marcus takes down two guards with precise hand-to-hand despite the serum burning through his veins. His military training shows in every movement—economical, efficient, lethal, even without supernatural power. When a third guard rushes him, I put a bullet through the attacker's knee.
Kane snarls with genuine fury as his forces fall. "Your father died crying about peace. Your mother died protecting weakness. And now—"
"Now you die knowing they were right." The words tear from my throat as I line up the final shot. "Knowing love made us stronger than your hatred ever could."
The bullet takes him high in the chest. His expression freezes in perfect disbelief as he looks down at the spreading stain on his expensive suit. For a moment, he seems more offended by the ruined clothing than the mortal wound.
"Impossible," he breathes, swaying on his feet. "You—”
My second shot cuts off whatever slur he was about to voice. He crumples like a marionette with cut strings, all that ancient evil reduced to cooling meat on imported marble.
Marcus stumbles as the serum's effects peak, his skin burning with unnatural fever. I catch him before he can fall, lowering us both to the floor as boots thunder in the distance—Elena and the others, finally arriving to secure the compound.
"Had it under control," he mumbles, fighting to stay conscious. "Didn't need... protecting."
"I know." I brush sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, trying to smile through tears I refuse to acknowledge. "But that's what partners do, right? Protect each other?"
His hand finds mine, pressing it against my stomach with clumsy urgency. "Both okay?"
"We're fine." I kiss his temple as his eyes start to flutter. "All three of us are going to be fine."
He tries to say something else, but the serum pulls him under. His breathing stays steady, though, his heartbeat strong against my palm. Whatever Kane's weapon did to him, he's still fighting.
Still strong, in all the ways that matter.
Even as the reinforcements sourced by Rosecreek and the others surge through the doors with a tactical team all around us, weapons raised, I barely notice. All that matters is this: Marcus's warmth against my side, our child safe beneath my heart, and Kane's blood seeping into the marble floors where he made his last mistake.