Page 37 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

A nikka stood motionless, staring at the elevator long after the doors had closed.

He was gone.

The man she loved— truly loved —was walking into danger, and she couldn’t shake the raw terror that pressed against her ribs like a vice. Jace wasn’t just some powerful Alpha on a mission. He was hers . And she was his. That bond pulsed in her chest like a second heartbeat, painful and loud.

All her life, she’d obeyed Wilton’s orders, shrinking beneath his sneering authority, thinking biology and instinct were loyalty.

But it wasn’t loyalty. It had been fear—and manipulation.

The truth cut like broken glass: Wilton wasn’t her uncle .

He was just a power-hungry monster who had stolen her childhood and forged shackles from lies.

But not anymore.

She clenched her fists. No more blind obedience. No more staying behind while others fought the battles that shaped her life. Jace hadn’t commanded her to stay. He’d merely ordered her to be naked when he returned—and sure, she’d obey that one. But only if he came back in one piece.

The thought twisted her insides.

Anikka turned and looked around his suite, her lips thinning.

The space was beautiful but sterile. Sleek furniture.

Expensive lines. Cold luxury. It wasn’t a home—it was a command center with a bed.

And damn, what a bed. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of everything they'd done in it.

But she wanted more. She needed roots , a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon and butter, walls covered in photos of babies and wolves, and a backyard with claw marks on the trees and toys scattered in the grass.

She wanted a life. Their life.

And she wasn’t going to sit around and pray the universe handed it to her.

She had plans—culinary school, maybe starting her own business, selling food that warmed bellies and hearts.

She’d buy a real house, the kind with squeaky floorboards and chipped paint and a porch swing.

She’d build it with her own hands if she had to.

But none of it mattered if Jace didn’t come back.

If Janice or Gustov—or whoever the hell else was trying to destabilize everything—hurt him… she wouldn’t survive it.

The fear sharpened into fury.

Without hesitation, Anikka peeled off her clothes, baring herself to the cool air. She stepped forward, took a deep breath, and shifted.

The wolf rose inside her—fierce, determined, lethal. As fur overtook skin, Anikka shook herself out, exhaling a low, satisfied growl. She loved this feeling—the wildness, the clarity. The scent of Jace filled her nose, potent and grounding.

She didn’t waste another second.

She padded to the elevator and waited, tail twitching.

A little finesse—and a lot of luck—got her out of the building without alerting anyone.

Once outside, her senses exploded. The cool air whipped through her fur, street sounds hummed beneath her paws, and Jace’s scent hit her hard—strong, recent, a thread of warmth she could follow into the dark.

He was ahead of her. A few miles, maybe more. He was fast—so much faster—but she didn’t care. She remembered the way he’d run beside her that night in the woods, how her lungs had burned and her legs had trembled, and still she’d kept up.

She would do it again.

She would do it for him.

With a low growl and a flash of determination in her eyes, Anikka surged forward, chasing the man she loved into the night.