Page 13 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

I narrow my eyes at him. By the look on his face, as he raises an eyebrow in my direction, I know Aris means the opposite. He thinks I won’t risk hurting her.

“Okay,” I say. I have no real choice, not when he’s like this. The pack is democratic, our structure is far less hierarchical than most. When there’s something we seriously don’t want to do, any one of us can refuse. But training and combat are my job. When Aris asks any one of us to do our job, he asks with the kind of implicit trust that it will get done that keeps the pack running, the trust we all rely on every day.

Aris nods. He picks up his gym back, wiping his face with his towel.

“Keep it up,” he tells Keira.

Still sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her, Keira nods tiredly. “Got it, boss.”

Aris disappears. I shrug my hoodie off and take a long drink of water, then stretch out a hand to pull Keira to her feet.

She stares at my fingers, then my face. Her bright, intelligent eyes flicker with something I can’t identify. She takes my hand, and the soft skin of her palm against mine sends an electric pulse through my body. A soft, rumbling feeling, like the first shuddering of an avalanche, seems to ascend through my abdomen; I have to settle my weight back on my heels and steady my body just to keep my balance. What’s wrong with me?

Keira lets go of my hand fast. She flexes her fist, then balls it, settling into form. Her high-set shoulders shine with sweat. I can’t look her in the face.

“Let’s go, then,” she says.

I spread my feet. “Catalog these moves,” I tell her, then swing.

Chapter 7 - Keira

In the following days, I struggle to find my footing in Rosecreek.

The weight of the rift between Ado and me is a lot to bear. We train for long, awkward hours, and when we’re not training, we ignore each other like it’s a competition to see who can say the least. We’re being immature. We both know it.

I move through the rhythms of my daily life in the most sensible way I can—I sleep more than I have in months each night, try to remember to eat real meals around my work, and I take a few long walks around Rosecreek to clear my head in the evenings when the rest of the team are winding down. With the others, I go through the motions of camaraderie, but the ease I once felt with them has splintered, replaced by something uncomfortable and brittle.

Ado’s silent presence seems to follow me everywhere I go. Every glance, every accidental brush of our shoulders in the training gym leaves me on edge, teetering between wanting to withdraw completely and wanting to reclaim the sense of belonging I’ve lost.

But it’s not just Ado. The whole team feels different now, like an old coat that doesn’t fit the way it used to. The easy banter, the unspoken understanding we once shared, is strained. Much of that is my fault, I think. I’m the one who refused to reach out. But we’ve all changed—I see it in all of them, how each team member I once called friends is now a fundamentally altered presence. They have been through things I can’t and will never understand.

I can sense their cautious glances, the subtle shift in the air when I enter a room. Percy and Bigby do their best to includeme, but it’s clear that I have become a stranger to them, too. And that’s what hurts the most: realizing it isn’t just me who’s changed, but all of us. It’s like my own turmoil has seeped into the fabric of the group and frayed the edges of what used to feel like home.

I hate that I can’t shake the feeling of being an outsider, even here, among the people who used to be my closest allies. I’ve always prided myself on being independent, adapting to whatever situation I find myself in, but this is different. This is personal. It gnaws at me in ways I didn’t expect.

Every time I catch Ado’s eye, there’s this sharp pang inside—regret, maybe, or longing. I’m not sure anymore. All I know is that it’s impossible to ignore, no matter how hard I try.

Rosecreek was supposed to be a place of peace, a sanctuary where I could find some clarity. Nothing consumes you like New York can. I had foolishly imagined a place of respite. But with Ado around every corner, his silent gaze just a little too knowing, I can’t focus on anything but my work, and even that is a struggle.

The smell of cooking food drifts through the air as I make my way into the room off the kitchen, where the team is already gathering for breakfast. The familiar scent of frying eggs and toast should be comforting, but it only makes my stomach twist today. The chatter is quieter than usual, a subdued murmur.

I hover near the doorway for a second, wondering if it’s too late to just grab something quick and eat outside, but someone—Olivia—glances up and catches my eye, giving me a quick smile that leaves me no escape.

I force myself to step forward and take an empty seat at the table. I end up sitting beside a man I don’t know very well.Zane. Given his haughty posture, I wonder whether he might be a source of the tension.

“Morning,” I say, trying to sound casual. I busy myself with reaching for the coffee pot, hoping to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Morning,” comes a chorus of replies, too synchronized, too forced. Byron is sitting across from me, silent, his hands wrapped around an energy drink. Waves of discomfort seem to physically emanate from him.

Percy is the first to break the awkward silence, though his voice is just a bit too bright, as if trying too hard to cut through the thick air. “So, Keira, any new leads from your contacts?”

I nod, grateful for something neutral to latch onto. “Some whispers of activity down south, but nothing solid yet. I think our guys are laying low.”

“Anything to worry about?”

I shake my head and pour milk into my coffee. “They seem to do this between movements each time. I don’t think they know anyone’s got eyes on them just yet. And we’d do well to keep it that way.”

Olivia hums thoughtfully, pushing her food around on her plate. She makes eye contact with her mate for a fleeting moment, and a hundred things I can’t decipher pass between them. “That’s good. If anyone can pin them down, it’s you.”

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