Page 17

17

Naomi

T he party drags on, loud and bright, and suffocating in a way I can’t quite explain. How can I sit here and pretend like my world hasn’t been flipped on its head by the one man who isn’t in this room?

Wyatt. No tales I’ve heard have done justice to the strength of the fated mate bond, and the thrill of finally getting closer.

Yet, here I am, alone, because things can never just be that simple.

Everyone around me seems to be laughing and having fun, while I’m left feeling exhilarated in one way and bereft in another.

The velvet pouch sits on the table in front of me, and I stare at it like it might explode. It feels dangerous. Not because of what’s inside, but because of what it represents, a public claim I never agreed to, a performance put on for the room to see.

No amount of shifting in my seat shakes off the uncomfortable, nails-on-chalkboard feeling that’s slithering down my spine every time Brad glances my way.

He was marking his territory in front of everyone, making sure every wolf in the room put us together. It was calculating and deliberate. He wasn’t just pressuring me, he was changing how others see me. As his.

As if Brad can just… give me something, decide for me, and that's it.

But nothing he can give me compares to what Wyatt and I just shared, even if it had to be cut shorter than I’d have liked.

He’s taking for granted that I’m too afraid of him to object, and what’s annoying me most is that he’s right. Not afraid for myself, but for Maddie.

I reach for my glass instead of running for the doors like I want to. Dean and Jamie are gone, hurrying past me as I make my way back inside.

Maybe nobody would care if I left too, but Blake Steel, head alpha of the region, is still here, and he’s watching everything. Maybe if I can work up the courage, I should talk to him about what’s going on.

My fingers tremble as I lift the drink to my lips, but I force my face into a neutral expression, looking around casually, when I notice Lynn watching me once more. Her eyes glaze over as she speaks to someone via mind-link.

She frowns and looks away, but her eyes flick to me now and then, sharp and assessing. When a young server approaches to ask her a question, she doesn’t shoo them away, but responds politely with a kind smile on her face despite the fact that the wolf should have seen she was talking to someone.

Lynn manages the entire packhouse with quiet efficiency. Nothing escapes her notice, not the young wolves trying to sneak extra strong alcohol, not the visiting alphas attempting to intimidate the staff, and certainly not my obvious discomfort.

Her gaze, when it catches mine, carries a weight of understanding that makes me wonder how much she's already figured out.

Eventually, Lynn sighs and scans the hall, looking almost like she's counting the wolves present, or searching for someone.

I glance around, wondering what's going on, and when I look back, she's staring right at me, hands on hips, expression full of concern.

She's always watching, like a mother watching her pups play fighting, always taking in the quiet dynamics playing out beneath the surface. And right now, her attention is all on me.

I force a small smile back and look away, but my stomach churns. Something's wrong. When I sense another gaze too, this one heavier and harder to ignore, my palms sweat.

Is there a sign over my head telling people I'm keeping deadly secrets?

When I finally have the nerve to see who else is watching me now, Blake Steel frowns slightly, letting me see his eyes flicking from me to the bag I keep pushing around the table, like it's something rotten. I make myself stop, folding my hands neatly in my lap, but it's too late. He's noticed, one perfectly arched eyebrow telling me I've piqued his curiosity. And he's not the only one.

I stand, but Amy catches me immediately. "Okay, spill. Enough with the shy virgin act." She grins at me like a cat with a cornered mouse. "What's the deal with you and the rogue?"

My pulse spikes, my throat dry as I try to play it off. "There's no deal."

I have to get out of here.

"Please," she drawls, chin propped in her hand. "I saw him watching you throughout dinner. And now, Brad's suddenly so interested in you, giving you jewelry, practically announcing his intentions to the entire games, yet you look like you're about to puke into your dinner."

Oh god. Is it that obvious?

"You're either the luckiest girl in the Games or the sneakiest," Amy says it playfully, like we're lifelong girlfriends, but there's an edge to her voice that tells me this is more than passing interest.

Many of the females here are more interested in finding an alpha mate than making friends or winning a pack. Does she think I'm playing games?

"Neither." I shake my head too fast. "Brad is my alpha, nothing more. Wyatt and I are just helping each other through the competition. "

"Right," Amy drawls, clearly not believing me. "Just be careful. These alphas don't like to share their toys."

My wolf bristles at being called anyone's "toy," especially Brad's.

With that bombshell dropped, Amy turns her attention to Trish, who's chattering excitedly about some male she met earlier. No longer the subject of conversation, I tune them out, my fingers absently turning the velvet pouch over and over. I can’t leave it behind, but I really don’t want it either.

Before I can plan how to dispose of it, the door bursts open.

Callum strides in, his presence like a live wire snapping through the room. He doesn't even pretend that everything is okay. Face flushed and veins bulging, he shouts as he crosses the room. "Blake." His voice is clipped, urgent. "Need you. Now."

The room falls silent. Blake's already halfway to his feet, all alpha command and coiled readiness. "What happened?"

It must be bad if they can't handle it without Blake. Every single person in the room stops what they're doing and stares.

Callum visibly bristles under the weight of their attention but continues on, not having time to conduct this conversation more privately.

"The forest."

The mate bond flares suddenly with a surge of emotion, not mine, but his. Determination. Anger. Pain. My wolf slams against my skin, desperate to break free and find him. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

Blake crosses to the door immediately, trusting that Callum wouldn't be involving him unless it was vitally important.

The hum of conversation rises as everyone guesses what's going on. The atmosphere turns electric, wolves shifting uneasily, scenting tension in the air. Nosiness finally gets the better of everyone when chairs creak, cutlery clinks, and everyone abandons their meals and heads toward the forest.

I follow the crowd pouring outside, my heart hammering so loud, it drowns out the rest of the room. A sinking feeling inside me, a knowing, a pull on the fragile bond, tells me exactly who's caught up in this.

Wyatt.

The night air hits me like a slap, cold, carrying the crisp bite of pine needles and the faint metallic tang of blood. Above us, the sky is a heavy dome of ink, stars pinned like jagged glass. The trees sway under the weight of a gentle wind, not even remotely stormy, yet we can hear snapping branches and something crashing through dense undergrowth deep in the woods.

Somewhere in the distance, a bone-chilling snarl shatters the quiet. Raw. Feral.

My mate.

The sound goes straight to my heart, vibrating through my chest. I clutch my arms, nails digging into my skin to hold myself together. Every instinct in me screams to run to him, but I can't. Not here. Not when eyes are already on me. Instead, I step backward, melting into the crowd, ready to slink into the shadows and go the long way around.

Wolves shift, skin melting into fur, jaws stretching into muzzles.

"Nobody follows us," Blake booms out, and everyone freezes, including me. “

His command washes over us like a physical force, the power in his voice impossible to resist. Even my wolf, stubborn and strong as she is, hesitates. Blake's authority isn't just his title, it's something intrinsic, something ancient that speaks directly to our most primal instincts.

The other visiting alphas move first, their wolves massive and gleaming under the moonlight, paws pounding the earth as they charge into the darkness. Then, when he's sure we're all following his order, Blake leaps into the air and transforms into his magnificent black beast, catching up with the others easily as they charge toward the chaos.

Behind me, voices murmur. Snippets drift to me in the air as everyone slowly snaps out of their daze.

"Did you hear? Someone trashed Wyatt's room earlier."

"Pissed all over his stuff."

"Good enough for him. Did you see the look in his eyes when he left the hall? You tell me that man isn't a ticking time bomb."

"Bet he went feral. That's what rogues do, right? Snap and lose it."

"Probably needs Blake to put him down. I mean, they'll have to, right? To stop him?"

“Maybe he’s running away. I mean, he knows nobody wants him to win.”

My hands shake, rage and fear churning inside me, until I can't tell one from the other. They talk about him like he's some wild animal, not a person, not a wolf with honor and heart. Like his strength is something to fear, not respect.

They don't know him.

I do.

And all I want, all I long for, is the moment I can step into the light beside him and tell them all, He's mine.

Let them have their charming, rich alphas. Let them chase titles and wealth and easy power. I want him.

Whatever's happening in those woods, Wyatt isn't running. He's fighting. And from the sounds echoing through the trees, he's not backing down.

The forest swallows the alphas, their howls ringing back toward us, and all I can do is stand here, helpless and furious, and so desperately in love, that I can barely breathe.

Lynn appears beside me, staring into the distance in silence, saying nothing but slipping her fingers into mine and gripping my hand with hers in support.

Please come back. Please, don't let them, or this stupid competition, break you.

I stare into the trees until my vision blurs, until the cold bites through my skin.

And I wait.