Page 17 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

"The genetic markers are fascinating," he explains between bites, spreading papers across our workspace. "The weapon doesn't just suppress shifter abilities—it rewrites specific DNA sequences. But the bonds are unstable, which might give us an opening..."

"James," Elena warns softly. "Maybe not here."

He catches himself, glancing at me apologetically. "Right. Sorry. Need-to-know basis."

"It's fine," I say, though something in my chest aches at being kept at arm's length. "I understand."

It’s a strange place to have landed. I’m not in either pack’s core team; I'm just a secondary helper, lingering idly on the sidelines, watching as plans are made and paths forged. Half the time, I try to hide behind my camera—it brings back memories of all the places I’ve been with it. I’m not a stranger here, but I am still, I think, an outsider.

The afternoon brings Asher, his quiet presence a balm to my churning thoughts. He settles into what's become his usual chair, reviewing security feeds while I process photos.

"Tell me about him," I say suddenly. "As an Alpha."

Asher looks up, his expression unreadable. "Marcus?"

"I knew him... before. In California. But not as a leader."

Something softens in Asher's face. "He's the best I've served under. Puts everyone else first, sometimes to his own detriment. The kind of Alpha who would die for his pack without hesitation."

"Sounds like him," I murmur, remembering the boy who used to give away his lunch every day to stray cats, who would take off his jacket if someone else looked cold.

"But?"

"But he's also the kind of Alpha who makes decisions for other people. Who decides what's best for them without asking."

Asher is quiet for a long moment.

"Sometimes," he says carefully, "leaders have to make hard choices. Choices that hurt people they care about, to protect them from worse pain."

"Is that what happened with Kane?" The words slip out before I can stop them. "Was Marcus protecting someone when he pissed him off?"

But Asher's expression has already closed off, that same careful mask I've seen on all of them when Kane's name comes up. And so I slide back into my spiral of confusion and disappointment once again, deciding now, it must simply be where I live.

***

Days blur together in a rhythm of shutter clicks and careful lies. The Marshall City pack becomes a constant presence in my life—Elena's quiet strength, James's passionate research discussions, Asher's steady calm.

After a few more days, a tentative few more members of their time arrive in the middle of the night, hurried covertly over the border into the pack center: Sara, their communications specialist with a dry sense of humor that catches me off guard; Devon, the weapons expert who can talk for hours about the history of supernatural armaments; Michael, one of the ones who lost his shift, whose grief runs so deep I can barely look at him sometimes.

They're good people. Warriors, scholars, and survivors carry wounds that go deeper than flesh.

"The thing about Kane," Sara tells me one evening as we review surveillance footage, her voice pitched low like she's sharing secrets, "is that he truly believes he's right. That's what makes him so dangerous. He's not just some power-hungry radical. He thinks he's saving our kind."

"From what?"

"From ourselves, mainly." She taps her screen, bringing up news reports of growing tensions between humans and supernaturals. "There have always been extremists who think we should separate completely from human society. But Kane... he takes it further. Anyone who works with humans and tries to build bridges is a traitor in his eyes. Deserving of punishment."

"Like losing their shift," I say softly, thinking of Michael and Fiona.

"That's his latest method." Sara's scent darkens with something like fear. "Before the suppression weapon, he had... other ways."

Before I can ask what she means, movement at the door catches my attention. Marcus stands there, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. How long has he been there? How much has he heard?

"Sara," he says quietly. "Elena needs you for the Seattle feed."

She goes without question, leaving me alone with Marcus and all our unspoken words.

"You need to stop," I say before he can speak.

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