Page 61 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

The fight explodes like a thunderclap.

Kane moves with inhuman speed, but I'm ready for it. The skills I learned in a dozen countries flow through muscle and bone, and I fightdirty,throwing elbows and stabbing out my makeshift weapon with abandon, aiming for his throat.

Marcus, even without his shift, reads my moves like a language he's fluent in. When Kane tries to flank me, Marcus is there with purely human precision. We move together like we've been fighting side by side for years, covering each other's blind spots, creating openings for each other to exploit.

Kane's composure cracks further as we press him back.

"Kill them!" he barks at his guards. "Kill them both!"

Gunfire erupts, but we're already moving. I roll behind a marble column, snatching up a fallen guard's pistol. Years of practicing with every weapon I could find pay off as I return fire with deadly accuracy.

Marcus takes down two guards with precise hand-to-hand despite the serum burning through his veins. His military training shows in every movement—economical, efficient, lethal, even without supernatural power. When a third guard rushes him, I put a bullet through the attacker's knee.

Kane snarls with genuine fury as his forces fall. "Your father died crying about peace. Your mother died protecting weakness. And now—"

"Now you die knowing they were right." The words tear from my throat as I line up the final shot. "Knowing love made us stronger than your hatred ever could."

The bullet takes him high in the chest. His expression freezes in perfect disbelief as he looks down at the spreading stain on his expensive suit. For a moment, he seems more offended by the ruined clothing than the mortal wound.

"Impossible," he breathes, swaying on his feet. "You—”

My second shot cuts off whatever slur he was about to voice. He crumples like a marionette with cut strings, all that ancient evil reduced to cooling meat on imported marble.

Marcus stumbles as the serum's effects peak, his skin burning with unnatural fever. I catch him before he can fall, lowering us both to the floor as boots thunder in the distance—Elena and the others, finally arriving to secure the compound.

"Had it under control," he mumbles, fighting to stay conscious. "Didn't need... protecting."

"I know." I brush sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, trying to smile through tears I refuse to acknowledge. "But that's what partners do, right? Protect each other?"

His hand finds mine, pressing it against my stomach with clumsy urgency. "Both okay?"

"We're fine." I kiss his temple as his eyes start to flutter. "All three of us are going to be fine."

He tries to say something else, but the serum pulls him under. His breathing stays steady, though, his heartbeat strong against my palm. Whatever Kane's weapon did to him, he's still fighting.

Still strong, in all the ways that matter.

Even as the reinforcements sourced by Rosecreek and the others surge through the doors with a tactical team all around us, weapons raised, I barely notice. All that matters is this: Marcus's warmth against my side, our child safe beneath my heart, and Kane's blood seeping into the marble floors where he made his last mistake.

Chapter 28 - Marcus

The serum's effects linger as we drive north, a constant reminder of what Kane tried to take from us. My shift comes and goes in waves, unreliable, unstable, never close enough to the surface for me to use it. James and Veronica are close to a cure back in Rosecreek—their last message said they're on the brink of a breakthrough—but for now, I'm caught between forms, between worlds. The others all tell me it won’t be for long.

God, I hope they’re right.

The mountains fall away behind us as Camila guides the SUV along winding roads, her hands steady on the wheel while I focus on breathing through the fever.

We haven't spoken much since leaving Kane's compound. Not about her killing him. Not about my parents. Not about the child growing inside her or the unsealed, unconfirmed mate bond humming between us like an unsung melody.

The silence feels heavy with possibility, with things too big for words.

The afternoon sun paints the world in shades of gold as she pulls off at a scenic turnout overlooking a river valley. The engine's quiet lets me hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, anchoring me as the last traces of Kane's weapon burn away as Camila unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at me.

"You're still running hot," she says softly, pressing her palm to my forehead. The touch sends electricity down my spine, my newly-restored senses drinking in every detail of her—the lingering traces of gunpowder on her skin, the way her scent mingles with our child's, the slight tremor in her fingers that betrays her exhaustion.

"I'm fine." The words come out rougher than intended. "The cure's coming. James and Veronica are close. But right now, Camila, we need to—"

"Talk. I know." She turns in her seat to face me fully, and the intensity in her eyes steals my breath. "So talk. Tell me everything."

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