Page 60 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

Maisie and I often spend our afternoons together, working on small projects around the pack center. We’ve started planting a garden out back, just a few herbs and vegetables to start. It’s something to keep our hands busy, something to remind us that life continues despite the chaos of ours. Occasionally, quiet, standoffish Triste joins us. The best days are when Rosa comes along, with her formidable knowledge of plants and brilliant sense of humor.

On the bad days, I resist the impulse that still lingers within me to isolate myself in my work. Instead, I push myself to rely on Ado, and he holds me steady.

It’s in the way he brings me coffee in the morning without me having to ask, or the way he touches my hand lightly as I find myself holding back tears on the floor of his bedroom, silently asking if he can come closer and hold me. It’s in the way we can sit together in silence and feel completely at ease, knowing that we don’t need words to communicate.

Aris tells me I don’t need to ask when I reach out to him to confirm that I can stay. That I can be a part of this.

“You were always part of the pack,” he tells me, and I believe him.

When I lie in bed that night, all of the luck I’ve had seems to harden around me, a protective shell. I believe I will be alright. I really, truly believe it, I realize.

I’ve come to see that I was never really angry at Ado. Not truly. I was angry at the world, at the situation, at the lack of control I had over my own life. But Ado… he’s always been my constant, even when I didn’t want to admit it. He’s the one who saved me and fought for me when I couldn’t fight for myself.

And now, I’m finally able to let go of that anger. It’s like releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a sense of relief washing over me as I let it all go. What’s left in its place is love, pure and simple.

My life doesn’t have to be a battle. I know that now. It just has to be mine.

***

A month after the final raid, when the follow-up missions are over, and there is no longer a smuggling route along our river, I stop putting off the inevitable.

I sit on the edge of my bed, turning my phone over and over in my hands. The pack center hums quietly around me, with the sound of laughter drifting up from downstairs. Everyone is already getting ready for the barbecue down by the lake, and I can hear Byron shouting instructions to Bigby about the grill.

I told them I’d come along soon, and to leave without me.

I take a deep breath, unlock my phone, and dial Director Jenkins’ number.

It rings twice before that familiar, clipped voice answers. “Jenkins speaking.”

“Hi, Director. It’s Keira.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost hear her thinking. “Keira. To what do I owe the pleasure? Any updates on the case in Rosecreek?”

I swallow, trying to steady myself. This job was all I wanted when I first applied for it—it was my lifeboat in a storm. But I don’t need a lifeboat anymore. “I’m calling to hand in my resignation.”

The words hang in the air. I brace myself for the shock, but when she speaks, I hear something like amusement in her voice.

“I had a feeling this might happen,” Jenkins tells me. “I knew you wouldn’t be behind that desk forever.”

I blink, surprised. “You knew?”

“I didn’t know,” she corrects herself. “But I suspected. Sending you to Minnesota for the Rosecreek pack’s mission… I thought it might remind you of what fieldwork was really like. The rush, the camaraderie, the… unpredictability of it all. You’re not someone who thrives on routine, Keira. You never have been. It’s why I hired you—I expected you’d become an operative for us eventually. But years went by, and…”

She’s right. I shake myself. How could I not have realized before that she knows me so well? To get to her position, you have to understand your people in that way. She reminds me of Aris.

“It’s not just the fieldwork,” I admit. “But that was a big part of it, realizing I’m still capable. But I’ve also reconnected with some people from my past—old friends from the army. And… it’s made me realize that I’ve been holding myself back. For years.”

Jenkins falls silent, hesitating. “I see. And this is what you want? You’re sure about leaving?”

“Yes,” I say, more confident this time. “I’m sure. I’m ready to start living my life more fully, more happily, Director. It’s time.”

“Well,” Jenkins says, and I can hear the professionalism re-entering her voice, though she still sounds like she finds the whole thing somewhat funny. “If you leave, the job won’t stay open for you. You understand that, don’t you? There’s no coming back if you change your mind. You leave; you’re gone for good.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I’m okay with that.”

There’s another pause. I hear a car horn sound faintly in the background. Then Jenkins speaks again, and her voice softens, just a little. “Then I suppose all that’s left is to congratulate you. It’s not easy, making a choice like this. It takes courage.”

Warmth spreads through my chest at the unexpected kindness in her words. “Thank you, Director. For everything.”

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