Page 23 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

“I’m tired,” she admitted.

“That doesn’t usually stop people from screaming,” he shot back.

She gave him a faint look before she responded, “I already did that. You didn’t flinch.”

Marcus raised a brow.

He crossed the room slowly, still studying her the way a predator stalks something strange in its path.

“So this is your new escape approach? You think if you play nice, I’ll let you go?”

“No,” she said. “I think the better I behave, the safer my son is.”

Marcus stared at her again, puzzled. Minutes before, she had been feral—snapping at him like a cornered animal, spitting defiance with fire in her eyes like it could burn through steel. And now?

Now she looked like she had resigned herself to a new fate, and she was ready to play the part of the agreeable recruit.

The change was too quick.

Or maybe he was just too damn tired to observe things properly.

Marcus rubbed at the back of his neck with his eyes still fixed on her. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at his bones—heavier with every breath he took.

He hadn’t rested in what? Two days? Three?

Time had become a blur since the moment he tracked her magical terrains to the town of Ellensburg. He knew he couldn’t afford any slip-ups while hunting a dark witch, so he had been so occupied with the mission that he barely had time to rest.

And now here she was, suddenly calm, cooperative, and composed.

It was a trap. It had to be.

But then again... fear did strange things to people. Especially people with children.

Riley.

Marcus’s jaw tightened.

He had said that name to scare her earlier, but when it passed through his lips, something else stirred in her. He noticed the way she froze. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was afraid for the kid.

She would cooperate if it meant keeping him safe, he concluded.

He let out a sharp breath, rubbing his thumb against the bridge of his nose. The inside of his skull throbbed again with a dull, persistent ache. He glanced over at her one more time, and her posture was still composed.

There was no tremor in her fingers. No darting glance toward the door. If he didn’t know better, he would say she was almost waiting or potting something.

But the room was secure. No one could come to save her. The silver cuffs were still pulled against her wrists. And she didn’t know where they were. She could not escape.

So why couldn’t he shake off the feeling that he was missing something?

Or maybe he was overthinking it. But fatigue blurred the line between his instinct and his imagination.

Marcus leaned back onto the table positioned in the corner of the room. His eyes fought to stay open, but the exhaustion was a heavy fog now, curling around his mind, seducing him into stillness. His body was giving out before his instincts could protest.

He needed to recharge. Then he could interrogate her properly and extract the necessary information from her.

He didn’t say a word to her as he went out the door. It was better that way, so she could stay on alert for him. He darted up the dark stairs and into the spartan area in the main cabin.

He second-guessed going into the spare bedroom to lie down. He already had Riley in the main room. Besides, the less comfortable he was, the faster he would nap. He didn’t need a bed.