Page 7 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

Marcus takes another half-step forward, and my wolf surges in response—wanting to run, to fight, to... something. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and untold truths. His scent is everywhere, overwhelming my senses, making it hard to think.

This, I think, is why it made me feel invincible to be a stranger. A traveler, a rogue, an unknown. Being unknowable is the best way to live. Because that way, this can’t happen to you.

"Camila," Marcus starts again, and there's something in his voice I can't read. Something that looks almost like fear in his eyes. "I need to—"

"No."The word comes out sharp as broken glass. I’m proud of myself for its viciousness. "No, you don't need toanything. You lost the right to need things from me five years ago."

He flinches again, but his expression hardens into something more familiar—that mask of Alpha authority I remember from our last night together. "This isn't about us. Things are happening that you don't understand—"

"There always are, aren't there?" I laugh, and it sounds bitter even to my own ears. "There were things I didn't understand then, too. Things you couldn't explain, couldn't tell me, couldn't—" My voice cracks traitorously. "You’ve never cared. I’ve known it for a long time. Just... stay away from me, Marcus. Keep me out of whatever brought you here, whatever you're running from. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t—let me live.Leave me alone, I won’t say it twice."

I push past him, not caring that I'm leaving medical supplies scattered across the floor. Not caring that my hands are shaking, that my wolf is howling, that every instinct I have is screaming to turn around. To demand answers. I want to make him explain why he walked away that night and why he left me alone with a half-formed mate bond and a heart full of questions.

"Camila, wait—"

But I'm already gone, moving through the pack center's halls with blind determination. Past curious faces and concerned looks, past the sound of his voice calling my name, past five years of carefully constructed walls crumbling like sand.

***

I don't stop until I reach Rafael's house, until I'm safely behind the door of my borrowed room. Only then do I let myself slide down the wall, let the tremors wrack my body as memories flood back.

His hands, his mouth, the gentle twisting of his wrist as he curled a piece of my hair around in his fingers. Marcus’ desire, the push of it, the feeling of his body against mine.

The night I told him, I thought he was my mate. The night he wasn’t mine anymore.

And the next morning, before he could hope to explain himself,Iwas gone.

I pride myself to this day on being the first to run. In some way, I won.

My phone buzzes—Rafael, probably checking on me. I ignore it. Instead, I pull my knees to my chest and try to remember how to breathe through the kind of pain I thought I'd left behind in California. Try to remember all the reasons I've spent five years running, all the ways I've made myself stronger, harder, untouchable.

But I can still smell pine needles and winter air. Can still feel the phantom touch of his hands steadying me. Can still hear the way he said my name, like a prayer or a curse or something in between.

Marcus is here. In Rosecreek. My sanctuary, my brother's home, the first place I've felt safe in years—and he's here, bringing with him all the ghosts I've been running from.

My wolf paces restlessly, torn between fury and that old, aching need that never quite went away. Outside, the spring sun continues to shine, oblivious to the way my world has tilted on its axis. Somewhere in the pack center, Marcus is probably in meetings, planning whatever brought his team here, being the Alpha I always knew he'd become.

And I'm here, hiding in my room like the girl I used to be. The girl who believed in mate bonds and forever and promises that turned out to be as fragile as morning frost.

Never again, I tell myself firmly. Never again will I let Marcus Hillmarton make me feel small. Never again will I let him see how much power he still has to hurt me.

I reach for my camera bag, seeking the comfort of familiar equipment, of focus and frame, and the ability to capture beauty even in pain. But for the first time in five years, not even the promise of the perfect shot can dull this ache.

Because Marcus is here, and suddenly all my careful distance, all my practiced indifference, feels like nothing more than another photograph—beautiful on the surface, but missing all the important truths hidden just out of frame.

Chapter 4 - Marcus

The guest quarters Aris has given us on the top floor of the pack center are more luxurious than we've seen in weeks. Clean lines, comfortable furniture, windows positioned for both light and tactical advantage—everything carefully chosen to make supernatural refugees feel at home while maintaining security. It’s a huge suite, enough space for all of us.

I should be grateful. Should be focusing on getting my team settled, on planning our next moves, on finding a way to counter Kane's weapon.

Instead, all I can think about is the way Camila's scent lingers on my skin from our collision in the hallway.

"Marcus?" Elena's voice cuts through my distraction. "The security feeds are ready for review."

Right. Security. Focus.

We've transformed the common area of our suite into a command center, laptops, and tablets, creating a nest of technology around Elena's laptop. She’s worked sleeplessly all this time to keep us safe, and now, for a moment at least, we really are. I’m not sure how to even begin thanking her for that.

---