Page 4 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

But before I can speak, a scent drifts through the open window—gunmetal and sandalwood and something wild, something that hasn't changed in five years of silence. My wolf surges forward with such force that I nearly shift right there, every instinct screaming.

Asher's hand lands on my shoulder, steadying. Through my haze of shock, I register my team's immediate response to my tension—Elena shifting to cover the door, James palming something that's probably a weapon. Five years of working together means they can read my every micro-expression, sense every shift in my mood.

And right now, I’m inches from being in pieces.

Because Camila Diaz is walking past the conference room window, down on the street outside, and she's even more beautiful than I remember.

She's carrying camera equipment, talking animatedly with someone I can't see. The morning light catches her wild, dark curls, turning them almost iridescent. Her movements are different—more predator grace than human fluidity. She’s older, looks wearier, a kind of heaviness in her shoulders. But her smile, the way she talks with her hands, the slight tilt of her head when she's listening—it's all achingly familiar. All exactly the same as the memories I've tried so hard to bury.

"Marcus." Aris's voice seems to come from very far away. "You still with us?"

I force my attention back to the room, the mission, and the real threats facing my team. But my wolf is clawing at my control, desperate to follow that scent, to cross the distance I put between us five years ago.

To explain, to apologize, to—

No.

The thought comes with the same brutal finality as it did the night I walked away.

"Kane," I say, and my voice comes out steady despite the chaos in my head, "has developed a weapon that can permanently suppress shifter abilities. Weeks ago, he used it on two of our pack members during an attack on our compound. They’re back in the city still, laying low, receiving treatment, though nothing’s worked. As far as we can tell, there’s no cure. We've been on the run ever since, trying to stay ahead of his forces while we figure out how to counter it. Most of our shifters have been evacuated to various haven packs out of state.”

Aris swears softly, all traces of welcome replaced by tactical focus. "Permanently suppress? You're sure?"

"James?"

My team's medic straightens, switching seamlessly into professional mode despite the pain I know he's still in. "The effects appear to be permanent based on our current data. The weapon delivers a serum that targets specific genetic markers in shifter DNA. We've been working on developing a counter-agent, but..." He glances at me, hesitating.

"But we lost most of our research when we had to abandon the compound," Elena finishes. Her voice is tight with anxiety, but steel, too. Unrelenting steel. "Along with half our supplies and nearly all our tactical gear."

Through the window, I hear the faint, muffled sound of Camila laughing at something her companion said. The sound hit me like a physical blow. Focus, I tell myself firmly. Focus on the mission. On protecting your team. On everything that depends on doing this right.

"Tell me everything," Aris says, and there's steel in his voice now. The warmth of old friendship is still there, but layered over it is the authority of an Alpha protecting his territory. "Start with how Kane found you in the first place. Once I’m clear on all of that, I’m bringing in the rest of my core team, and we’ll strategize. We’re going to help you.”

I draw a careful breath, forcing my wolf back under control. This is what matters now—securing sanctuary for my people, finding a way to stop Kane, keeping the poison of his ideology from spreading further. Not the way Camila's scent makes my head spin, not the memories threatening to drown me, not the desperate need to ensure she never, ever gets caught in Kane's crosshairs.

"It started," I say, "with a message about my parents' murders."

Behind me, through the window, Camila's voice fades into the distance. My wolf whines, but I keep my eyes on Aris. Keep my voice steady. Keep telling the story that might save my team's lives.

Images flash through my mind as I speak: the burning remains of our compound, the terror in Fiona’s eyes when the serum took her shift, the way James's hands shook as he tried to treat their wounds. Kane's voice on the phone, smug and certain as he detailed exactly how he'd destroy everything I'd built. Everything I'd tried to protect.

"The message came through old channels," I continue, each word carefully chosen. "Someone claiming to have new information about their deaths. It should have been obvious it was a trap, but..."

"But it's your parents," Aris finishes quietly. Understanding colors, his tone. It isn’t soft—he cannot afford softness, not in the face of this. But he understands.

"Kane used it to track our movements. He sent in spies to study our defenses. By the time we realized what was happening, he'd already positioned forces around the compound. The attack came at dawn—coordinated, professional. They knew exactly where to hit us."

I know the look on Asher’s face without having to glance at him. I see the pain there, the fury, the fear. The memory of that morning is etched into all of us: the explosion that breached our walls, the clinical precision with which Kane's forces deployed the serum, the terrible silence when Fiona tried to shift and couldn't.

"How many did you lose?" Aris asks, his voice gentle but firm. An Alpha who knows the weight of such questions.

"None." Pride creeps into my voice despite everything. "We got everyone out. But two of our core team members, Fiona and Michael, can't shift anymore, and Kane's forces have been on our trail ever since. We've stayed ahead of them, but barely. Each stop has been shorter than the last."

Asher steps forward, laying out a tablet with surveillance photos. "Kane's ideology has been spreading. What started as a fringe movement has grown into something more organized, more dangerous. The attack on us was a test run—he's planning something bigger."

"A purge," I say, the word bitter on my tongue. "He wants to 'protect' shifters by stripping shifters he considers ‘traitorous’ of their powers.”It’s why he killed my family.

It’s a cycle that will never end.

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