Page 16 of Mating Mia (The Alphas’ Perfect Prey #2)

I collapse back against Kane’s chest, completely spent, my brain struggling to return to reality after that intense release.

“How much longer until we reach my family’s farmhouse?” I ask breathlessly, suddenly remembering why we’re on this road trip in the first place.

From the driver’s seat, Jace’s amused voice floats back to us. “About ten minutes, princess. Hope you’ve got enough time to make yourself presentable.”

“Ten minutes?” I squeak, panic instantly replacing post-orgasmic bliss. “Are you serious?”

I look down at myself in horror. Kane’s cum is leaking from my ass, trailing down my thighs. My pussy is swollen and dripping with arousal. My dress is bunched around my waist, and I probably look exactly like what I am—a thoroughly fucked omega.

“Ten minutes,” Jace confirms, grinning at me through the rearview mirror.

Behind me, Kane finally “wakes up,” a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he feels my panic. “Good morning, little omega,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice thick with amusement. “Sleep well?”

I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of his pretend sleep when his cock shifts inside me, reminding me of our current predicament.

“Kane, you need to let me go,” I say urgently. “We’re almost there, and I need to clean up and?—”

“It’s okay, love,” he says, kissing the side of my neck. “We’ll pull over at the gas station I can see up ahead. You’ll have time to freshen up.”

His hands move to my hips, lifting me carefully off his length. The sensation of him sliding out of me after so many hours makes me gasp from the unexpected loss.

After an hour of frantically trying to clean myself off in the restroom of the gas station and buying a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I’m finally walking towards the old farmhouse of my childhood.

The farmhouse looks smaller than I remember, the white paint peeling in places, the wraparound porch sagging slightly on one side.

My sore clit throbs with every movement, and my asshole burns from Kane’s thorough claiming, making me wince visibly.

Jace’s arm is linked with mine, supporting most of my weight as I hobble forward like I’ve spent the night riding a horse instead of my alphas.

The thought makes heat rise to my cheeks despite the anxiety churning in my stomach.

It’s been four years since I stormed out of this place, swearing never to return.

“You okay?” Jace murmurs, his eyes scanning my face with concern. “We can come back tomorrow if you need more time to... recover.”

“No,” I shake my head firmly. “If I don’t do this now, I might never do it.”

I’ve always wanted to ask about my adoption, but my parents have always been close-lipped about it for some reason. Memories of the farmhouse rush through me the closer we get to it. There were good memories of my siblings, but most of my memories here weren’t great.

We’re halfway up the gravel driveway when the screen door bangs open and a figure emerges, rifle in hand.

My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the stooped silhouette of my adoptive father. He’s aged dramatically in the four years since I left. His once-broad shoulders now hunched, his hair completely white, probably from the stress of yelling at his children all day.

“Who the fuck?” he calls out, rifle not quite aimed at us but not pointed at the ground either. His rheumy eyes squint in the morning sunlight, struggling to make out our faces from a distance. “Get outta my property. Now!”

I feel Kane tense beside me, his alpha instincts flaring at the potential threat to his pregnant mate. Finn moves subtly to my right, positioning himself to intercept any danger. The silent coordination between them makes my heart soar.

“It’s me,” I call back, stepping around Kane despite his low warning growl. “It’s Mia.”

Steve Jenkins lowers the rifle slightly, recognition dawning on his weathered face.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he grunts, shaking his head. As we draw closer, I can see the missing teeth in his scowl, the deep-set wrinkles that map a life of hard work and harder drinking. He’s wearing the same stained overalls he always wore for farm work.

“Hi,” I begin, unsure of what to say.

“You’re back, huh?” he says when we reach the porch steps. “After all your rebellious ways and high-falutin’ talk about never settin’ foot on this property again?”

The familiar sting of his aggressive speech makes me shrink back slightly, old insecurities rushing to the surface. My alphas bristle around me. I can feel it in their energies, but I had warned them before coming here not to say anything that would sabotage anything.

“I just want to talk,” I say softly, hating how easily I slip back into the meek persona I adopted for survival in this house. “Just a visit, that’s all.”

Steve’s gaze shifts to the three men surrounding me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “And who the hell are these fellas? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got yourself mixed up with more trouble.”

“They’re my friends,” I answer quickly. Then, grabbing Kane’s hand, I introduce him. “And Kane is my boyfriend.”

I feel both Jace and Finn stiffen at being described as just my friends. It’s a necessary lie for now. Explaining that I’m mated to three alpha werewolves and carrying their pup would not carry over well.

Steve snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Boyfriend, huh? Well, I suppose he’s a step up from that tattooed delinquent you ran off with.”

The casual mention of Justin makes my stomach turn. Somehow, my adoptive father always knew how to reduce me to nothing in his eyes.

“Can we come inside?” I ask, changing the subject. “I’d like to see Momma.”

He eyes us for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Kane’s imposing frame with apparent distrust. Finally, he grunts and turns toward the door. “Suit yourself. But don’t expect no warm welcome. You made your choice when you walked out that door.”

The interior of the farmhouse is exactly as I remember—worn furniture arranged with military precision, doilies placed on every surface of furniture.

The smell of strong coffee and something baking fills the air, mingling with the ever-present scent of pine cleaner that my adoptive mother, Martha, uses obsessively.

I can hear her in the kitchen, the aggressive clatter of pots and pans announcing her presence before she appears.

“Who was at the… ?” She stops dead in the doorway, dishrag still in hand, when she sees me. Martha has aged as well, but differently from Steve. The lines around her mouth are deeper, her eyes colder, her hair pulled back in the same severe bun she’s worn for as long as I can remember.

“What are you doing here?” she asks coldly. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I’m just here to ask you something,” I start, my heart beating hard with fear. I can’t help it after being scolded for years of my life.

Through the window, I can see my three adoptive brothers working on the farm: Ben, Mark, and Thomas. In the distance, my two sisters, Rachel and Mercy, hang laundry on the line, their movements synchronized from years of shared chores.

As if sensing my gaze, Ben looks up from his work.

Our eyes meet through the glass, and for a brief moment, I think I see excitement in his expression.

He’s the youngest of my siblings and closest to me.

Then he quickly looks away, returning to his task as if he had never seen me at all.

One by one, the others do the same—a fleeting glance, then deliberate avoidance. They’ve been turned against me.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the cold rejection still hurts more than I expected.

“What brings you crawling back after all this time? Need money? Got yourself in trouble again?” asks Martha.

“No,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’m doing well. I have a good job and a nice place to live. I came because I need to see my adoption papers.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly, becoming charged with a tension so thick it’s almost visible. Martha’s movements in the kitchen stop abruptly.

“What for?” Steve demands, eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. “Those papers are ancient history. Nothing in them that concerns you.”

“They’re about me,” I counter, a spark of the backbone I’ve developed with my alphas showing through. “I think that makes them very much my concern.”

“Watch your tone, girl,” Steve warns, leaning forward in his chair. “You may think you’re all grown up now, but in this house?—”

“In this house, what?” Kane interrupts, his deep voice startling everyone. “In this house, she’s still expected to cower and obey without question? Is that what you were going to say?”

Steve’s face darkens with anger. “Now see here…”

“No, you see here,” Kane continues, his tone deceptively calm but underlined with steel. “Mia came here with a simple request. She has every right to her adoption papers. They’re legally hers once she’s an adult, which she is.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Mia gave up her right to be part of this family when she ran away,” says Martha, looking at me in distaste.

“I only left because I was tired of getting beaten. I was tired of being screamed at and worked to death!” I yell, my heart pumping loudly in my ears.

Silence fills the house at my outburst.

“The adoption papers,” Finn says into the silence, his voice cool and detached, as if this were a business transaction. “Where do you keep them?”

Martha’s chin lifts defiantly. “That’s none of your business.”

“Actually,” Finn continues in that same measured tone, “as Mia’s legal counsel, it is very much my business.”

Even though Finn’s lying, he certainly has the demeanor of a lawyer. Authoritative, slightly intimidating, and utterly convincing.

“Legal counsel?” Steve echoes, some of the color draining from his face.

“Yes,” Finn nods solemnly. “I can return with a court order if necessary.”

It’s a brilliant bluff, and for a moment, I think it might work. I see uncertainty flicker across Martha’s face, her eyes darting to Steve for guidance.

But Steve has never been one to back down, especially not when his authority is challenged. “There ain’t no adoption papers,” he says flatly. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart sinking.

“Burned ’em,” he says with a shrug, trying to act casual, but I can see he’s hiding something. “Years ago, after you left. Figured there was no point in keeping ’em since you made it clear you weren’t no daughter of mine.”

“You... burned them?” I repeat, disbelief giving way to devastation. “All of them? The original certificate, the court documents, everything?”

“Everything,” Martha confirms, a hint of vindictive satisfaction in her voice. “Actions have consequences, Mia.”

The room spins slightly as the implications hit me. My one lead, my one hope of finding information about my birth mother, is gone.

“I think we’re done here,” Kane says quietly, his hand on my shoulder steadying me as I sway slightly. “Mia, let’s go.”

I allow myself to be guided toward the door, too numb to resist, too heartbroken to even cry. As we reach the threshold, I turn back one last time, searching the faces of the people who raised me for any sign of regret, any flicker of the love I desperately wanted as a child.

There’s nothing but cold gazes and people who have always hated me. They were never my family.

I feel numb with every step back to the van. Tears roll down my face in a flood as Finn closes the van doors and I’m safely inside.

“They burned them,” I sob, collapsing against Jace’s chest as he pulls me into his arms. “They actually burned my adoption papers.”

Kane starts the engine but doesn’t immediately start driving. Instead, he turns in his seat to face me, his expression determined despite the gentle way he wipes a tear from my cheek.

The men are just as angry as I am.

“This isn’t over, little omega,” he says firmly. “So they burned the papers. That just means we need to find another way.”

“How?” I ask, hiccupping through my tears. “That was my only lead.”

“We’ll check every adoption agency in the state,” Kane declares with the confidence of an alpha who’s used to making the impossible happen. “We’ll go to court records, hospital archives, wherever we need to go.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, Kane. There must be dozens of agencies. It could take forever, and we might never find anything.”

“Baby,” Finn growls gently as he kisses my forehead and touches my belly. “We will do everything in our power. And your real dad is one hell of a tough warrior, considering what he’s gone through. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I thought we could help him,” I say, hiccupping as Jace passes me tissues, my face wet with tears. “I always wanted to know about my birth parents but never dared to ask.”

“Understandably,” growls Kane as he drives through the streets, clearly still bristling at our interaction with them. “Don’t worry, little omega, we’ll do everything we can to bring your family together again.”