Page 21 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

I try to shrug it off, leaning back against the wall. “That the best you’ve got? I’d think for a guy who chokes out women and locks them up in the dark, you’d be a little more creative.”

He leans closer to the bars, his breath hot and foul as it seeps through the narrow gap. “Keep talking like that,” he says softly, “and I’ll show you exactly how creative I can be. You won’t like it, though.”

His voice is low, almost a whisper. Phantom pain pounds in the back of my skull. My body remembers what they did the last time I upset these people.

But I refuse to flinch. I refuse to let him see that he’s gotten under my skin. Instead, I lift my chin a little higher and smirk.

“Guess we’ll see,” I say, though the bravado in my voice feels thinner than the air in this godforsaken place.

He doesn’t move or say anything for a long time, just stares at me through the bars. Then he straightens up. Thehatch slams shut with a harsh clatter, and he turns, his boots echoing down the corridor as he walks away.

I wait until the sound of his footsteps fades before I let out a shaky breath. My pulse is racing, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The stale bread sits in my lap, untouched, but I grab it and take a bite, chewing mechanically. It tastes like nothing, but I force it down anyway.

The memory fades and leaves me aching. I realize I am back in the present only when the tired aching of my eyes becomes real, not just something I’m looking back on. I blink hard. The darkness around me is different now. The sounds of the night are a constant murmur in the background: the quiet rustling of the reeds on the bank, the soft lapping of water against the shore. And next to me, Ado breathes steadily, his eyes fixed on the distant outline of the warehouse across the river.

We’ve been camped out here for hours, alongside the same swamp where, only hours ago, we incapacitated three enemy shifters. Ado and I will be staking out this site until the morning, when two of the others will take over. It’ll only need to be watched for a few days, to make sure nobody comes to check on their now missing criminal pals.

It’s an easy job. We can sleep in shifts if we want to. But neither of us does.

I have grown comforted by the silence of the night, punctuated only by the occasional shift of Ado’s weight, the quiet crackle of the radio in his hand, or the faint, distant cry of a bird of prey hunting in the dark. My muscles are stiff from sitting so long.

I need to focus; I can’t stop thinking.

Ironically, these two things do not allow for one another.

I glance at Ado. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s always been good at this, the waiting game. Patient, methodical, able to sit in the same spot for hours without moving a muscle. I envy him that. I’ve never had that kind of control, not over my body, and certainly not over my brain.

But tonight, it’s worse. The flashbacks keep coming, and I can’t stop them. I can still hear the echo of that man’s voice, the way he sneered at me, the threat lingering in the air long after he’d walked away. I can still feel the cold stone beneath me, the oppressive wall of darkness pressing down on my chest. I feel the raw tips of my fingers scraping uselessly in the dirt, the bleeding sores that once ringed my wrists.

And I know why.

It used to happen far more often. Back in New York, I saw my captors everywhere. I would find myself certain I’d spotted one of those men on the subway every other week when I first moved there. You see so many people every day in such a big, busy place that it’s easy for your mind to conjure monsters in the mess.

It hasn’t happened in a long time. I thought I was past it. I don’t know why it had to happen now, on my first field mission in years, which I only asked to go on to prove to myself that nothing bad would happen—I don’t know why my brain has decided now that one of the three men on the river was the same man who terrified me when I was captive under the Bloodtooths.

“Keira,” Ado’s soft voice cuts through the fog in my mind, bringing me back to the present again. “You alright?”

I blink. I’ve been gripping my rifle too tightly. My knuckles are white; my fingers ache. I force myself to relax, loosening my grip and taking a steadying breath.

“Yeah,” I murmur, though my voice sounds thin and unconvincing even to my own ears. “Just… tired.”

I’ve already decided not to mention what I thought I saw to the team. Bringing my past into this—especially on what was most likely a mistaken identity—ruins my credibility. They’d kick me off the mission.

Ado glances at me, his brow furrowing. He’s not the type to press, especially with how determinedly we’ve been ignoring one another. But I can tell he’s concerned.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he shifts slightly, adjusting his position as he scans the horizon again.

“Sleep,” he says after some time. “I’ll keep watch. Nothing’s moving out there.”

I can’t bring myself to nod. I know rest isn’t going to come easy. The warehouse looms in the distance, past the treeline on the other side of the bank, a dark shape against the night sky. It’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean anything. We both know that dangerous types could show up at any time to funnel whatever it is they move through these waterways aside from women. We have to be ready when they do.

Still, I lie back, resting my head against the pack behind me. The ground is hard beneath me, and the night air is cold against my skin, but it’s better than the cell. Anything is better than that cell.

Cold wind rustles through the reeds, sweeping up the silver face of the river. I shiver. I wish I was tougher than this, like the other girls of the Rosecreek pack, whose bravery and optimism seems to shine off them. I wish I had brought a thicker sweater.

Ado moves, and I almost flinch. He scoots closer, his movements deliberate but slow. He’s giving me a chance to stop him.

I don’t. My body tenses out of habit, my muscles taut as bowstrings, but I don’t pull away. I feel the heat radiating off him even before his arm brushes against mine. When it does, it’s like touching a live wire.

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