Page 31 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

The room is quiet, along with the rest of the house. Or maybe it’s just the way I’m feeling inside, empty, barren, like something had been stripped from my soul.

For a split second, I expect to hear her moving down the hall. Bare feet on hardwood, or the soft click of a mug against the counter, or Emily clearing her throat like she always does before speaking, as if she needs to brace herself against the world.

Instead, there’s nothing, just the echo of her in my head, and on my lips.

I scrub a hand down my face and stare at the ceiling, willing my thoughts to slow or move away from what happened, but they don’t. They never do when she’s involved. My thoughts always fracture, jumping timelines, bleeding memories together until I can’t tell what’s past and what’s clawing its way back into the present.

The memory of Emily in my childhood home, kneeling beside my mother’s bed, comes filtering through. Gloves on her hands, calm in her voice, telling me to breathe when my lungs refused to work.

When words were not enough, she’d breathed life into me when I couldn’t take breaths of my own, when air wouldn’t settle in my lungs. All it took was one look, one measly attempt to say her name, for her to recognize that I needed her desperately.

I still remember it like it was yesterday—the way she held me, the way she kissed me one night when my mother’s condition had worsened, and we’d all been panicked. That night was terrifying, and the shift happened so suddenly that I was far from prepared to accept the inevitable. I was losing my mind watching my father weep over his wife, and I couldn’t stand to watch any longer. So I stumbled out of that room and fell into Emily’s arms, while she fell into mine the moment we reached her bedroom.

Through my grief, I’d felt the fated mate bond so strongly that it had overshadowed the pain of watching my mother wither away. I’d never felt more powerful than when I was inside Emily, gazing deeply into her eyes to see my own soul reflected back to me. All my darkness, all my pain, and all my potential, wrapped up in the cool depths of sapphire-blue eyes and presented to me with her loving smile as she lay under me, thighs wrapped around my waist.

Two halves of one whole—that’s what it felt like, and I was terrified. I knew my mother wasn’t going to make it, and I knew that I was losing the internal battle I was facing. I lost the day Mom died, and I had to run because I couldn’t accept defeat.

So, I joined black ops, but not without hurting Emily in my wake.

I close my eyes as sadness washes over me, seeing Emily’s eyes staring at me when her emotions were in upheaval. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing when I spat cruel words at her, but it was the only way I could leave without feeling a force pulling me back. I couldn’t take her down into my grief with me, but then she came to me a year later as if that force we once felt could never be broken.

I open my eyes and see Emily again, her eyes blown wide, breath hitching as something ancient and undeniable snapped into place when we kissed yesterday.

The bond. The unshakable, undeniable bond that keeps resurfacing even when we both deny it. The lunar binding spell has made it impossible to ignore, but no matter how gentle I am, how understanding, Emily won’t consider it, even going as far as pretending that the kiss we shared yesterday meant nothing.

I press my fingers to my temples as if I can shove the memory back where it belongs. It didn’t mean anything to her, I tell myself for the hundredth time, words that have been playing in my head over and over again throughout my restless night. The kiss was a mistake. An experiment. Clinical. Detached. That’s what she made it feel like, and that’s what I have to believe.

But my wolf doesn’t agree. He’s restless beneath my skin, pacing, agitated, like he’s been caged for too long and can smell freedom just out of reach. Every nerve ending hums with awareness, with where she is, how far away she feels, even when she’s in the same damn room.

I bolt upright and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, dragging in a breath that tastes like resignation.

Get it together, Sean. You have a meeting to attend, plans to discuss, and training to oversee.

Drilling those things into my head, I finally have enough courage, through the storm of feeling rejected and dismissed, to prepare for the day that lies ahead.

By the time I shower and dress, I’ve slid the mask back into place. Easy grin. Loose shoulders. The version of me that cracks jokes during fights and pretends nothing ever sticks.

The goofball alpha.

It’s the only way I know how to survive mornings like this.

The meeting room in my pack den is already half-full when I walk in. Familiar faces. Familiar energy. Black ops wolves don’t do quiet; there’s always motion, noise, someone arguing about tactics or coffee strength.

“Morning, sunshine,” Nicholas calls out. “Nice of you to finally join us in your own pack den. By the way, you look like hell.”

I grin automatically. “Missed you too, princess.”

A few laughs ripple through the room. Normal. Good. I drop into my seat and stretch my arms behind my head like I didn’t spend half the night replaying the taste of Emily’s lips. A cool, calm, and collected mask remains on my face while internally, I’m losing my mind.

Then she walks in, and everything in me locks up.

Emily takes the chair farthest from mine, her posture stiff, expression neutral to the point of being brittle. She doesn’t look at me. Not once. The distance is deliberate, and it hits harder than if she’d snapped at me outright.

My wolf snarls, but I ignore him.

Dominic sits at the foot of the table, eyes sharp, taking everything in without saying a word. Hunter leans back beside him, arms crossed, gaze flicking between Emily and me like he’s already piecing together a puzzle he doesn’t like.

Donna smiles at Emily, soft and encouraging. “Ready to try again today?”