Page 45 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

My muscles lock, sensing that this is as serious as what happened back then.

“Talk to me,” I snap back sternly, already swinging my legs off the bed and mentally kicking myself into gear.

“We found scorch marks near the threshold. They don’t belong to any werewolf,” he responds tersely. “And the garden outside Emily’s cottage has been thrashed.”

My vision goes red. “Where is she?”

“She’s at her cottage. Shaken, but unhurt. She called it in herself.”

That should calm me, but it doesn’t.

I sever the mind link and move fast, dragging on jeans and boots, barely registering the cold air biting at my skin as I bolt out of the house. My wolf surges under the surface, pacing, snarling, demanding blood. Every instinct I have is screaming the same truth.

Something came for her.

The short run through Silverfang is a blur. Trees whip past, the forest on one side feeling wrong—too quiet, like it’s holding its breath. When Emily’s cottage comes into view, my heart slams so hard, it hurts.

She’s standing outside now, her body visibly trembling, arms crossed tight around herself, her chin lifted in defiance as she speaks to Dustin. Her tone is perfectly measured, like she’s fighting to pretend that she hasn’t been affected by the findings.

Relief crashes into me first. Then fear. Then rage.

The scorch marks at the back of her cottage are unmistakable; jagged black scars burned deep into the earth beside the back door. They’re not clawed. Not lightning. Not magic I recognize as hers. Whatever did this didn’t belong here.

I slow my steps only when I’m a few feet away from her.

“What happened?” I ask, forcing my voice into something controlled, eyes flicking to Dustin when I’m made aware of her powerful scent like jasmine, reminding me of what happened here the other night.

Emily turns, her eyes flickering to mine for half a heartbeat before she walls herself off completely. I feel it through the bond, mentally hear the snap of barriers slamming into place. It feels too strange, too awkward to have such a powerful bond and not be able to do anything about it. I can’t reach for her. Can’t pull her into my arms.

I can barely meet her eyes, recalling how she kicked me out after the most passionate tryst in her bed.

I crouch near the marks, studying them carefully. The residue prickles against my senses, sour and foreign, raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

“This isn’t your magic,” I observe, lifting my eyes back to Dustin.

Emily exhales sharply. “I never said it was.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” I counter. “You should have called me immediately,” I say without turning to her, slightly annoyed. “What else have you found, Beta?” I direct at Dustin, who appears slightly confused as he frowns.

Nothing makes sense to him, for obvious reasons. My mate is living in her cottage again, and not in my house. Now, she’s lying about the cause of these scorch marks, as if it were as simple as an experiment with her healing potions.

If she called this in herself, she was obviously frightened, and now she’s acting as if it doesn’t bother her. Not to mention, I wasn’t the one she called.

“More of these marks have been sighted near the south border, but no one has seen what could have caused them,” Dustin explains. “The flowers in the front garden have also instantly withered, as if they’d been exposed to some sort of poison, and some were ripped out from the stems, like someone was furious.”

I nod slowly as I straighten up, noticing how Emily shifts her weight, irritation bleeding into panic through the bond. Fear seeps through the cracks she’s trying so desperately to seal, while anger brews in my chest. A sense of protectiveness comes over me, and my hands curl into fists at my sides.

“Go on, Beta,” I tell Dustin without removing my eyes from Emily’s face. “Do a full sweep of the perimeters, and make sure every warrior is alerted about this finding.”

Dustin nods firmly and says, “Yes, Alpha,” before he gives Emily another firm nod and jogs toward the woods, where he shifts into wolf form.

“You’re shaking,” I say matter-of-factly, but Emily tilts her chin with an air of defiance.

“I’m fine,” she lies, hugging herself tighter.

“You’re not.”

She takes a step back, eyes flashing with a glint of malice and accusation. “Stop hovering.”