Page 12 of The Reluctant Mate (Shifters of the Three Rivers #5)

Chapter twelve

Sofia

T rying to spy on Derek while serving customers was like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach while riding a unicycle. Thankfully, after years at the Bottley, I could make Mrs. Henderson’s half-caf oat milk latte with my eyes literally closed.

Which meant I caught Derek glaring at his phone, the muscle in his jaw jumping like it was trying to escape his face, the lines around his eyes carving deeper as he typed furiously. His knuckles went white around his phone before he shot me a quick glance, stood, and stalked outside, the device already pressed to his ear.

I didn’t need to hear the words to know the conversation wasn’t good. His free hand raked through his hair like he was trying to pull answers directly from his skull, his posture military-straight.

I couldn’t pick out most of the words, but twice, he angled his head toward the window as his eyes scanned the road. I could have sworn the words he said at those times were: “Not yet.” Then, a few seconds later: “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

My stomach bottomed out.

Her . Who the freaking hell was “her”?

Me? Mai? Another enforcer? I shouldn’t care about Derek Shaw’s drama. Yet here I was, practically straining to eavesdrop like the world’s nosiest barista.

A new wave of customers flooded in, but my head wasn’t in it.

When Derek stepped back inside, it wasn’t the same Derek who had walked out. He moved differently—less of the calm, deliberate grace that usually clung to him like a second skin. This Derek moved with harder edges, every molecule in his body vibrating with tension.

I watched him scan the room for the bazillionth time today. My wolf recognized it for what it was. Predatory. He was on a hunt. His gaze swept past customers and staff alike until it zeroed in on me, a homing missile finding its target.

Our eyes met, and suddenly, breathing seemed like an advanced skill I’d forgotten. He stalked toward me with such intensity that every instinct screamed RUN.

No way. I wasn’t running from Derek Shaw.

He stopped close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Can we talk?” His voice had dropped an octave, rough and gravelly in a way that sent rebellious shivers across my skin. He cleared his throat, glancing at the crowd still filtering in. “Outside. In private?”

I crossed my arms, holding his gaze even as my wolf nudged at me, sensing something I couldn’t quite name.

I sighed. Being alone with Derek was dangerous in more ways than one. He’d hear my betraying heartbeat, catch my shallow breaths, smell the desire I fought so hard to suppress. But this might be my only chance to demand answers about whatever the hell was happening.

I glanced toward Julie, who had just finished ringing up Mrs. Redmore’s Alpha’s Bite cappuccino.

“Cover for me?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

Julie’s smile bounced from me to Derek and back, her eyes lighting up with enough matchmaking gleam to power a small city. “Sure, hon. No problem.”

I sighed. Julie could give Wally a run for his money in the gossip department. Knowing her, by the time I returned, the entire town would not only know about our “private chat” but would probably be planning our mating ceremony.

I untied my apron, hanging it on its usual hook, and followed Derek out the back to the alley. The scents hit me all at once—strong, layered, and impossible to ignore, a complex tapestry of scents no human could detect. The sharp tang of spilled beer clung to the pavement near the dumpsters, mingling with the lingering bitterness of roasted coffee from discarded grounds. The faint metallic scent of city rain still clung to the bricks despite the clear skies, mixing with the ever-present aroma of damp earth from where weeds had stubbornly pushed through cracks in the asphalt. The alleyway stretched wide enough for delivery trucks to pull in and unload, but today, it was empty apart from Derek’s black SUV parked near the entrance. A set of rusting fire escapes zigzagged up the brick walls, their bolts slowly surrendering to time.

Derek stopped a few paces ahead, his back to me, one hand gripping his neck as he stared at the ground like it might offer answers.

“Well?” I crossed my arms. “You wanted to talk? Then talk. No more lies, Derek. No more bullshit. I want the truth. I saw you steal something from your brother. Either tell me what’s going on, or I’m going straight to Sam.”

His shoulders tensed at my words, but it took him a full minute before he turned to face me. When he did, his face was carefully blank, but his eyes, normally so guarded, held a cocktail of regret, pain, and something that looked dangerously like guilt.

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then finally said the last words I expected to hear:

“I’m sorry, Sofia.”

I blinked. “Sorry? Sorry for what? What the hell is going on, Derek?”

Without warning, he closed the distance between us in two strides. I instinctively stepped back, my shoulder blades hitting the cold brick wall of the alleyway. My wolf bristled but didn’t attack; something about how Derek loomed over me wasn’t just threatening—it was protective. Desperate. Dangerous.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he murmured as he slipped a hand around the back of my neck, tilting my face to his.

My eyes widened as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above mine, his breath warm and coffee-scented as it mingled with my own. Time slowed to a crawl. The space between us charged with electricity.

Oh, my Goddess, was Derek Shaw about to kiss me? Here? Now? In this grimy alley behind the Bottley with discarded coffee grounds and rusting fire escapes as witnesses? After five years of nothing but cold shoulders and cutting remarks, this was his move?

My traitorous heart hammered against my ribs. My wolf—the same one who’d been snarling moments ago—went suddenly, suspiciously quiet, like she was holding her breath. A thousand teenage fantasies flashed through my mind, memories of wondering how those perfectly sculpted lips would feel against mine.

“What are you—?” I started but then felt a sharp pinch in my neck. My hand flew up, fingers brushing against the spot where something had pricked me. A syringe? The realization crashed through me just as the effects began taking hold.

“Derek?” My voice slurred, my limbs suddenly weighing about a thousand pounds each.

“I’m sorry, Sofia.” His voice sounded far away now, though I knew he hadn’t moved. The brick wall behind me seemed to tilt and sway. My knees buckled, and strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground.

I couldn’t believe it. Derek fucking Shaw had drugged me! I wanted to scream, or run, or better yet, to punch the look of regret clean off his face.

But the world was already slipping away, everything fading into darkness, his repeated apology—“I’m sorry, Sofia”—chasing me into oblivion.