Page 67 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

Marcus exhaled sharply, a sigh of relief releasing from his lungs. Marcus knew Kieran didn’t usually meddle. The fact that he had stepped in said everything.

“Thank you,” Marcus said sincerely, offering his gratitude to Kieran.

And all he got in return from the man was a grunted, “umpf” before he added, “Cheer up, Vale. If you get back in time, you might be able to escort your witch and her son.”

The line clicked off.

Marcus sat frozen for a beat, the words ringing louder than they should’ve.

Your witch.

His heart thudded hard at the thought of it, but it wasn’t true. She wasn’t his.

Not anymore.

***

Marcus turned his horse around, galloping back toward the camp at the old church with the same urgency that had brought him out. He tore through the forest, heart pounding, desperate to get back before the night descended into the sky.

He didn’t want to waste another second.

But the forest had other plans.

Suddenly, his horse whined sharply and came to an abrupt halt, the hooves skidding against the underbrush.

Marcus stiffened. He scanned the trees and strained his ears to listen for any unusual sound. Nothing.

He had masked his scent. No demon should have tracked him.

He clicked his tongue and tugged the reins to move.

“Go,” he whispered.

The horse only stomped and whined again, without moving. Marcus’s ears flattened as his eyes went wide with terror.

Before he could even reach for his blade, a force like a wrecking ball smashed into his side, hurling him from the horse across the clearing. He slammed into the earth with a grunt as the pain exploded in his ribs.

Two figures in front of him as he raised himself off the ground in defense.

Their eyes were hollow. Not blank—void. As if whatever soul had once resided there had been scraped out and replaced with raw malice.

Dark forces.

Beings who had given themselves to the dark influence so completely that they no longer had a mind of their own—they only obeyed.

They were more skilled since they operated without reasoning and emotions and with the darkest form of magic.

Marcus managed to get to his feet as his muscles screamed in pain from the blast. He could not face them off alone. Somewhere along the fall, his telecom had fallen out of his ear, so he couldn’t even call for backup.

He reached for the silver dagger at his hip, his closest weapon, and sliced through one of the creatures in combat, aiming for the heart, when he felt another blast hit him from behind, flinging him like a rag doll. He crashed into the forest floor as his breath knocked from his lungs.

Marcus gasped as everything inside him convulsed. His wolf surged forward, snarling, trying to take over, to shift, but his body refused. The dark magic was suppressing his powers.

He was losing

One of the dark creatures raised its silver blade for a strike when suddenly a piercing, radiant column of white light erupted from the trees, like a spear thrown by the gods themselves, making the dark forces stumble to the ground as the energy radiated across the forest.

Marcus’s vision blurred as he blinked against the glow, his body screaming and writhing in pain.