Page 10 of The Reluctant Mate (Shifters of the Three Rivers #5)

Chapter ten

Derek

T he nightmare hit me like it always did—swift, merciless, and too damn real. Harris’s blood spattered across my hands as he struggled to breathe, the acrid stench of cordite sharp in my nose. His eyes locked onto mine as his lips twisted into a grotesque smile.

“You’ll fail her too. You know you will.”

This time, though, the dream shifted to the night before he died. I was in my office at Echo Command, 0200 hours. Intelligence reports scattered across my desk under buzzing fluorescents that hummed like angry wasps. Cold coffee, printer ink, and gun oil—night shift’s permanent perfume—surrounded me, while outside, the base’s massive generators thrummed.

The rest of the unit had cleared out hours ago, but something kept me here, had kept nagging at me, pulling me deeper into the web of data. This was the moment when I realized Harris was working with Victor Kane, feeding him information, keeping Kane one step ahead of us all this time. Good men in our unit had died tracking him—brothers-in-arms, friends.

I stared at the laptop, my mind refusing to believe the evidence in front of me.

Boot leather whispered against concrete—footsteps I’d recognize anywhere. Even before Harris’s familiar scent of gunpowder, mint, and something sharply medicinal reached me, my wolf was alert. The air pressure changed as his broad frame filled the doorway, bringing with it a draft from the corridor that stirred the papers on my desk.

“Still burning the midnight oil, Shaw?” Harris’s deep voice carried its usual warmth, but something felt off. Did he know that I’d worked it out? My wolf stirred as Harris crossed to my desk with that fluid grace that had always made him stand out among the humans in Echo Command. Perching on the edge like he’d done countless times before, he pulled two protein bars from his pocket, tossing me the peanut butter one he knew I preferred.

Such a small gesture. How many nights had we shared these awful bars, trading complaints about their cardboard taste while poring over mission reports?

I kept my eyes on the screen, afraid my expression would give me away. “Just reviewing some reports.”

“Must be fascinating stuff to keep you here at…” He made a show of checking his watch. “Zero-two-hundred.”

I looked up at him. Same pressed uniform, same easy smile, same scar above his left eyebrow from the time he’d taken a hit meant for me in Kandahar. Nothing about him suggested a traitor.

“Found some interesting patterns,” I said carefully, watching his reaction as I turned the computer to face him.

His smile held, but something flickered behind his eyes as he read the screen. “Where did you get this, brother?”

“I dug it out of the files we found at Kane’s base in Tripoli.”

Harris’s facade cracked then, his shoulders sagging as he sank into the chair across from me. “I didn’t have a choice, Derek, you gotta believe me.”

“There’s always a choice,” I growled. “Those men trusted you. I trusted you.”

“They sent me photos of my sister.” His voice broke. “They’re following her every move, Derek. They threatened to do things… I can’t let anything happen to my baby sister.”

He leaned forward, desperation etched on his face. “I know I fucked up, but I can make this right, Derek. I can. I just need you to help me one more time.”

Was he for real?

“Why didn’t you come to me before?” I said, my anger warring with the instinct to help my friend. “We can get your sister somewhere safe, bring in—”

“No!” Harris’s response was sharp, panicked. “Kane has people everywhere. The moment we use official channels, she’s dead.”

I studied him carefully. Everything in my training screamed that this was wrong, that I should report it immediately. But this was Harris. The closest thing I had to a brother here.

I leaned back in my chair. “Okay, nothing official. You have a plan?”

Relief flooded his face. “Kane’s meeting some suppliers tomorrow night. I know where. If we move fast, we can take him down before he knows I’ve flipped. I have a friend back home. I’ll get him to pick up my sister, make it look casual. He’ll keep her safe until this is over.”

I considered it, but we couldn’t go AWOL on this, it’d be a suicide mission. Our best chance of getting Kane was with a team.

“If you’re right about him having people everywhere, I can hold the information until the last minute, then tell Command the tip came through our usual agent. That way, it’ll still be a legit operation and we’ll have backup.”

Harris hesitated. “I don’t know, Derek. Even last minute…”

“I’ll choose the team myself. It’ll work.”

Harris stood. “Alright, then. Thank you, brother. I’ll make this right, I promise.”

As he turned to leave, I caught his arm. “Harris. If this goes sideways…”

He gripped my shoulder, his eyes meeting mine. He never did respect Shifter etiquette, meeting our eyes no matter what. “It won’t. We’re Echo Command’s finest, remember? Kane won’t know what hit him.”

The dream shifted again, back to the moment everything went wrong: the explosion ripping through air, Harris shoving me clear, taking the blast meant for me. Kane knew we were coming. If I had listened to Harris, if I hadn’t gone through official channels, maybe he would still be alive. Maybe Harris’s blood wouldn’t be on my hands.

I looked down at his body in horror as his face morphed into Sofia’s. Her green eyes wide with terror, her copper hair sprawled out as blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the dark earth. My hands pressed against her wounds like they had Harris’s, but no matter how hard I applied pressure, the blood wouldn’t stop. It kept pumping out of her, great gushes of it, in time with her slowing heartbeat.

Her mouth moved, forming words I couldn’t hear over the deafening roar in my ears. And then her head lolled to the side, lifeless.

I shot upright, gasping. Sweat drenched my back. The tangled sheets felt too constricting, and I ripped them away, planting my feet on the floor, gripping the edge of the mattress to anchor myself.

Fuck. That was a bad one. They were always worse when I was too busy working to make it to the Bar in the evening, didn’t get to see her, smell her, watch her put her hands on her hips and trade barbs with me.

I staggered to the bathroom, not bothering to flip on the light. The moment my feet hit the cold tiles, my stomach revolted. I lunged for the toilet just in time, retching up acid.

When there was nothing left, I slumped back against the wall, the sweat cooling on my forehead and neck. Guilt and shame swirled inside of me—a cocktail I’d grown intimately familiar with since Harris died. But this wasn’t about him anymore. This time it was Sofia. Seeing her like that—losing her—night after night; it was killing me.

I needed to move. Needed to do something. My chest still felt too tight, my skin too hot.

Mate. Safe.

Yes , I thought back, we would make her safe. My wolf hated the dreams as much as I did. It was prey we couldn’t hunt, couldn’t defeat.

I glanced at my watch: 5:03 a.m. I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. Instead, I splashed cold water over my face, trying to wash away the memories of the dream. Next, I grabbed my toothbrush and worked mechanically, bristles scrubbing away the bile and the bitter taste of panic from my tongue. Every movement was deliberate, grounding me back in the present, back in control.

My wolf didn’t settle, though. His agitation crawled under my skin, demanding action, demanding I check on her.

I pulled on a pair of gray joggers and headed downstairs, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. I crossed to the dining room and switched on the wall of monitors. My eyes immediately landed on the feed from outside her apartment, and the footage from her arriving home at 2:35 a.m. I’d already seen it before I went to bed; knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I knew she was safe in the apartment. I checked my phone, saw Jase’s message from 3:15 a.m. saying he was finally home and that Sofia was asleep. I ran the feed forward. No one else had come in or out of her apartment.

My fingers danced across keys, cycling through exterior cameras. Building perimeter, surrounding streets. Clear.

She was safe.

My wolf settled, appeased for now. But this watching from afar wasn’t enough. Never enough.

The buzz of my phone snapped me out of my thoughts, and I nearly knocked the damn thing off the desk. The name on the screen froze me in place: Torres.

I hadn’t talked to Torres in years. He was a human who’d trained with me and Harris, but I’d never liked him. He’d always been too quick to laugh when a new recruit wiped out during an exercise or when someone got injured during a sparring match. He was always watching, assessing, cataloging weaknesses instead of building the team.

I opened the message:

Sofia seems nice. Shame if anything happened to her.

My pulse spiked as I tapped on the attachment icon with jerky fingers. The image that filled the screen sent a cold fist squeezing my insides.

Sofia. She was taking a break at the Bottley, hair pulled back, wearing that green sweater I’d never told her brought out her eyes. The photo had been taken through the window—close enough to see a laptop open in front of her, a half-empty mug at her elbow. She had no idea she was being watched.

Fuck!

My vision tunneled red, the instinct to Shift and hunt this threat to our mate surging through me.

No. Focus. Losing control wouldn’t solve anything. Wouldn’t protect her.

I hit Jase’s number, pacing as it rang. He answered on the second ring.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep. “What the hell? It’s barely five thirty.”

“Active threat. Your place. Don’t wake Sofia, but secure the apartment. Now.”

I listened to the sound of rustling sheets on Jase’s end. His voice hardened immediately. “On it.”

I paced again, waiting, listening as Jase moved through the apartment, checking locks and the windows.

My phone buzzed again. I kept the line open to Jase as I checked the messages. Another photo.

This image was of Sofia sitting in her car, wiping tears from her eyes. She was pulled over on the side of the road. It was taken yesterday, before I got to her.

I slammed my fist into the desk, sending a stack of papers and a scout knife clattering to the floor.

“Derek!” Jase’s voice cut through my spiraling rage. “Place is secure. No one is here. All doors locked. Sofia’s fine. She’s still asleep.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the wolf to stand down. “Stay alert. No one gets near her.”

“You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“I’ll handle it. Stay on her when she wakes up. Text me before you leave the apartment. I’m going to send someone in to sweep for bugs and cameras. Do not leave her side today, Jase. You understand? I’ll clear it with Carlito, but you need to be wherever she is today.”

“Understood.”

I hung up as another text came through.

Your protections aren’t worth shit, Derek. We can get to her anywhere. Want to keep her safe? Sam Shaw has something of ours. We want it back. USB stick. You have 6 hours. Text when you have it.

My wolf growled inside me, fury barely contained, but I pushed him back. There was no room for emotion now. No doubts.

I had one objective: keep Sofia safe. Nothing else mattered.