Page 60 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

The marble floors beneath my feet are slick with blood and brass shell casings, marking our violent path through Kane's compound. Every surface gleams with obscene wealth—crystal chandeliers casting fractured light across mahogany panels, gilt frames holding priceless art, all of it a monument to Kane's twisted vision of shifter supremacy.

Marcus moves ahead of me with lethal grace, checking corners as we navigate the labyrinth of corridors. Even now, even after everything, he tries to keep himself between me and danger. Part of me wants to bristle at the protectiveness, but I understand it better now. The weight of our child beneath my heart changes everything.

Kane's voice echoes through the compound’s overhead speakers, all cultured malice: "Did I ever tell you about the day I killed them? About how your father begged at the end?"

"Trying to get in our heads," Marcus mutters, but I catch the tremor in his hands as he reloads his weapon. "Classic psychological warfare."

"Oh, this isn't warfare." Kane's laugh bounces off marble and mahogany—he’s watching us,listeningto us. "This is family history. Educational, really. Your child should know about its grandfather's weakness, how he died whimpering about cooperation and peace like a coward."

A door slams somewhere ahead. Marcus tenses, scenting the air. Without his enhanced senses, I can't parse the complex layers of scent, but the click of boots on marble tells me all I need to know.

"He's herding us," I whisper, noting the blocked exits, the strategic placement of Kane's remaining forces. "Driving us somewhere specific."

Marcus nods grimly. "The centre of the compound, I think.”

"Getting sentimental in my old age." Kane's voice drips false warmth. "Thought we could make this a proper family reunion. Your parents died trying to unite our kinds. Seems fitting their son should die the same way, right alongside the wife and pup.”

We round the corner into an architectural fever dream—soaring ceilings, marble columns thick as redwood trunks, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the mountain valley. The space breathes old money and older violence.

Kane stands at the center of it all, still immaculate in his tailored suit. The modified pistol in his hands looks almost delicate, but I've seen what those serum darts can do.

Behind him, a dozen guards maintain covering positions with military precision.

"I had such hopes for you once." Kane's voice carries genuine regret. "Your bloodline is ancient, pure. You could have been magnificent. Once upon a time, I believed in your father and his family. But he was weak. And just when I thought you might be different… Instead, you followed your father's path. Chose weakness.”

He inclines his head toward me. I scowl, head still spinning.

"I chose strength," Marcus counters, voice steady despite the odds against us. "Real strength. Not whatever twisted thing you're selling."

Kane's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Ah yes, the power of love. It’s an admirable thing to cry about until someone opens your throat. Where’s love then?”

The pistol rises with elegant precision. My heart stutters as the barrel aligns with my chest.

"History repeats," Kane muses. "Though this time, there's a third generation to consider. Tell me, Marcus, which should I kill first? Your mate, or your unborn child?"

Several things happen at once.

Marcus launches himself forward, faster than I thought possible. Kane's finger tightens on the trigger. The dart meant for my heart strikes Marcus's chest with terrible accuracy.

The sound Marcus makes as the serum takes hold will haunt my nightmares.

His shift ripples beneath his skin like a dying star, trying desperately to manifest as the chemicals strip away everything that makes him more than human.

He staggers but stays upright, placing himself between me and Kane with stubborn defiance.

"Predictable." Kane sighs like a disappointed teacher. "Just like your father, throwing yourself in front of those you love. He did the same thing, you know. Tried to shield your mother even after I took his shift. Such noble weakness."

Marcus's breathing comes ragged, but his voice stays steady as he tears the dart out of his chest with one shaking hand: "You talk too much."

Kane's perfect composure cracks. "Insolent pup. I'll make you watch as I tear them apart. Then maybe you'll understand what real strength—"

The crystal shard I've been concealing slices through air and flesh as I surge forward, opening a line of red across Kane's cheek as I whip my makeshift weapon down through the air. His eyes widen in genuine shock as blood mars his perfect suit.

"You were saying?" My voice comes out deadly calm. "Something about real strength?"

Guards move to intervene, but Kane waves them back. His mask of civility slips, revealing something ancient and terrible beneath. "You dare?"

"Five years." I shift my stance, remembering countless hours of training in war zones across the world. "Five years learning to fight without relying on shifter strength. Want to see what else I picked up?"

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