Page 12 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“You’ll see.”

His cryptic answer does nothing to calm my nerves. By the time we stop in front of a set of double doors I remember leads to a hall we used for important ceremonies, my pulse ispounding in my ears. Inside, it’s decorated simple but elegant, with rows of empty chairs and a table at the front draped in white.

A middle-aged man I recognize as our old healer is wearing a neat suit as he stands by the ceremonial altar, flipping through a stack of papers that rest on top. He looks up as we enter, not even looking surprised to see me.

“Alpha,” the man says with a nod. “Everything is ready.”

“Good,” Gray replies. He turns to me and extends a hand, which I don’t take. “Come on.”

I hesitate, keeping my feet rooted to the floor as unease snakes through me. “What is this?”

“You’re getting married,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

My brain stutters. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His tone is calm, but there’s a firmness beneath it that leaves no room for argument. “We’re getting married. Now.”

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” I manage, taking a step back. “There’s no way—”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re safer here as my mate than as a witch on her own. Plus, this way, not a single wolf in this pack will so much as question your return.”

My stomach twists at the mention of the rest of the pack, but it’s not enough to drown out my fury. “So this is your big plan?” I hiss. “Drag me back here and slap a ring on me like that fixes anything?”

“It’s not about fixing,” he says evenly. “It’s about protecting you. And protecting the pack.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, stepping closer. “But this is happening. Now, are you going to stand here and argue, or are you going to let me help you for once?”

I glare at him. Every muscle in my body is screaming to fight, to run, to do anything but go along with this. But I can see it in his eyes—he’s not budging. And deep down, I know he’s right. I hate him for it, but I know. Besides, it’s not like I have any other choice. Even if I managed to run away, I wouldn’t get far. Between the shifters and Malcolm, my life will never be my own.

“Fine,” I bite out, but the word is sour on my tongue. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ceremony is short, efficient, and devoid of anything resembling romance. The healer recites the necessary words while Gray stands beside me, solid and unmoving. I barely hear him. My mind is a mess of anger, fear, and grief for the life I’ll never get to live all because of who and what I am.

When it’s over, the officiant hands Gray a document, which he signs with a flourish before passing it to me. I take the pen with shaking fingers, and my chest tightens as I scrawl my name at the bottom.

“Congratulations,” the man says, his voice polite but hollow. “You’re officially mated.”

I don’t feel congratulations are in order.

Gray doesn’t give me time to ask questions as he leads me through the packhouse. I trail behind him, feeling like a piece of debris caught in a current. The corridors are bothfamiliar and alien, like they belong to a life I’ve long since left behind. Everything smells sharper, cleaner, like the air here has somehow managed to scrub away the stains of the past.

We pass a few pack members in the hall, and they nod at Gray with a respect that borders on reverence. None of them look at me like I’m an outsider. Not yet, anyway. I keep my head down, waiting for the first glare, the first whispered insult. But it never comes.

When we step into the banquet hall, it’s alive with light, laughter, and the smell of roasted meat that makes my stomach churn, though not from hunger. I stand in the entryway, trying to process what I’m seeing: dozens of shifters gathered around long tables, eating, drinking, and chatting like this is some kind of celebration.

What the hell are they celebrating?

I’m still trying to figure that out when Gray gently nudges me forward. The sound of the door clicking shut behind us draws every eye in the room. For a moment, the hall goes silent, and I feel the weight of their stares pressing down on me like a boulder.

And then it happens: they smile.

“Jaslyn!” someone calls from one of the tables. A young man with sandy brown hair and an easy grin waves me over like we’re old friends. “Welcome home!”

Home? Did he hit his head?

I glance at Gray, who’s watching the scene unfold with his usual calm. He gives me a slight nod as if to say,This is fine. Everything is fine.

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