Page 59 of Betrayed Alpha Mate
The argument dies in the warmth of our embrace, and Emily’s mixed emotions ease into sleep when she finds it on the bed, in my arms. I fall asleep, too, even if it’s just to close my eyes for a moment. What feels like hours later, my wolf wakes me before my mind does.
Dark magic is evident in the air, even though it’s faint. I turn to check on Emily, but she’s sound asleep, and there’s no indication that she’s bleeding magic.
Inside the house.
I’m moving before thought catches up, heart slamming as I sprint down the hallway toward the living room, where the scent of black magic feels the strongest. I reach the fireplace and freeze.
Burn marks scar the wall above the fireplace, black whiffs of smoke still faintly curling upward—the air reeks of rot and cold and something ancient enough to make my blood run ice-cold. There’s a note that floats down from the top of the fireplace, and I snatch it midair before it lands on the firewood that isn’t burning.
My heart sinks when I read the note.
“THE FIFTH WITCH WILL FALL.
THE PROPHECY WILL BREAK.
YOUR ALPHA WILL BLEED.”
My vision tunnels, and rage surges violently and blindingly, my wolf slamming against my ribs, demanding blood.
I glance back at the hallway where Emily is sound asleep and unaware, only her magic flickering restlessly beneath her skin like a candle fighting a draft. I can feel it through the bond. That’s how I know she’s safe. It’s how I know she’s still asleep.
No.
She will not see this.
I grab the box of matches from the shelf, light one, and throw it onto the firewood. I throw the note into the hot, licking flames, watching as the paper burns to ash. But the message remains floating in my head.
Burned into my mind.
The Harrower isn’t just attacking Emily anymore. She’s warning me. And I swear—to the Moon Goddess, to the pack, to the bond itself—that the Harrower will not take my mate, or my blood.
Not over my dead body.
I have two people to protect now, not just Emily. I have to protect myself, too, if I don’t want her to get hurt.
Chapter 22 - Emily
My feet barely touch the ground, the forest bending and stretching around me like it’s breathing. The air is too thick, too heavy, each breath scraping my lungs raw as I run. And I’m running as fast as my feet can carry me. I know I’m chasing something, or someone, but the knowing comes without memory, without reason. Panic is already in my bones, and I’m running purely on instinct, fueled by adrenaline.
“Sean?!” I yell out in desperation, my voice breaking apart before it reaches the trees.
There’s no response, while the bond is screaming in my bones and inside my chest.
It isn’t the steady hum I’ve grown accustomed to, the quiet pull that anchors me even when I’m resisting it. This is jagged. Torn. Like a cord snapping inside my chest, cracking my heart the harder it tugs. Pain flares so sharply I nearly drop to my knees, clutching at my sternum as if I can hold my heart together with my hands.
I stagger forward anyway. I need to keep going—that’s all I know. I need to find Sean.
The trees open, and a clearing suddenly appears in front of me, too wide, too exposed, too vulnerable. Moonlight spills across the ground in a pale wash, illuminating the truth I’ve been running from.
Sean is on the ground, and my heart lurches as his name rips out of my throat like a wretched cry. His body lies twisted at an unnatural angle, one arm outstretched as if he tried to reach for me. The bond surges violently, then stutters—weak, fading—like a pulse slowing beneath my fingers.
“No,” I whisper, throwing myself forward. “No, no, no…”
I fall beside him, my knees hitting the dirt hard enough to rattle my teeth. My hands shake as I reach for him, afraid of what I’ll feel when I touch him. Afraid I already know, even when it takes every ounce of courage to look down.
Blood pools beneath his chest, dark and endless, soaking into the earth like it’s being swallowed. It stains my hands the moment I press them to his shirt, warm and slick and impossibly real.
“Sean!” I choke. “P-please!”
