Page 23 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

Her words hang in the air between us, heavy and unyielding. She takes a step back, her expression unreadable. “You want to make this right? Start by letting me do my job. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“Jaslyn—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I don’t want your apologies, Gray. I don’t want your guilt. I just want you to stay out of my way.”

She turns and walks away before I can say anything else, her steps quick and deliberate as if she’s afraid I’ll try to stop her.

I don’t. I just watch her go before I follow silently, giving her space but staying close enough to remind her that I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere this time.

Even if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll prove to her that I’m worth trusting. That I’m not the same man who banished her all those years ago.

Chapter 8 - Jaslyn

The chains are cold against my wrists, biting into my skin like icy fangs. They’re heavy, unyielding, and with every futile twist of my arms, the iron seems to tighten as if mocking my efforts. I strain against them, and my muscles burn and tremble with exertion, but it’s no use. The weight of the chains presses against my chest, against my throat, until it feels like I’m being swallowed whole by the darkness surrounding me.

I can’t see anything—no walls, no floor, no sky—just an endless void that wolfs down the sound of my ragged breathing. The only thing that exists is me, the chains, and the voice.

That voice.

It starts as a low chuckle, slithering through the dark like smoke curling into the cracks of my mind. Then it sharpens, familiar and cruel, until I know exactly who it belongs to.

“You belong to me now,” Wiley taunts. The darkness shifts, and his silhouette is there, towering over me like a shadow given form. His face remains obscured, but I can feel the weight of his gaze, the sick satisfaction radiating from him like a physical force. “No one’s coming for you. No one even cares.”

“I don’t belong to you!” My voice tears out of me in raw desperation. I yank at the chains again, harder this time, but they only dig deeper into my skin. Blood drips down my forearms, hot and sticky, but the pain is drowned out by the wave of panic crashing over me.

“Don’t you?” Wiley’s tone is almost amused. The sound scrapes against my nerves, setting my teeth on edge. “Look around, Jaslyn. Where else would you go? You’re nothing. A stray dog without a home. Even your precious pack couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

I shake my head, clenching my teeth against the tears threatening to spill. “That’s not true.”

“No?” His shadowy figure leans closer, until I can feel the icy chill of his breath against my cheek. “Then why did they throw you out like garbage? Why did no one come to find you?”

The words are a dagger, twisting deep into wounds I thought I’d buried. I open my mouth to argue, to deny, but the words won’t come. The chains tighten, pulling me down to my knees, and the cold seeps into my bones like poison.

“Face it, Jaslyn,” Malcolm whispers behind his son. “This is all you’ll ever be. A tool. A prisoner. A weapon for someone else’s gain.”

“No!” I scream again, but it’s weaker this time. The darkness presses in closer, suffocating and endless, and the weight of his words crushes the air from my lungs. “I’m not—”

A sudden jolt shoots through me, breaking the haze. A new voice cuts through the oppressive silence, distant but insistent, like a lifeline pulling me out of the abyss.

“Jaslyn, wake up,” it says, low and steady. A hand grips my shoulder, warm and grounding. I claw at the sound like it’s my only way out.

The chains loosen, the darkness recedes, and Wiley’s laughter fades to nothingness as the dream dissolves into the pale gray light of dawn. I sit up abruptly, my chest heaving as I gasp for air, the phantom cold of the chains still clinging to my skin. My hands grip the sheets tightly, where the ghosts of the chains are still wrapped around my wrists. I don’t even realize I’m shaking until a warm hand covers mine.

“Jaslyn.” Gray’s voice pulls me out of the haze, grounding me. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

I shake my head as the panic still claws at the edges of my mind. “I-I can’t—” The words stick in my throat, and I paw at my chest, desperate to get the air in.

“Yes, you can,” he says as his other hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “Look at me.”

I manage to lift my eyes to his. His face is calm, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze, a focus that anchors me. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like this.” He exaggerates the movement, drawing in a slow, deep breath and releasing it just as slowly.

I try to mimic him, but my breath catches, and a sob escapes instead. His grip on my hand tightens. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me that he’s here. “You’re safe, Jaslyn. No one’s going to hurt you.”

It takes a few tries, but eventually, my breathing evens out. The tightness in my chest loosens, and the room comes back into focus. I blink, realizing my vision is blurred from tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

“There you go,” Gray coos. He doesn’t move his hand from mine, and for once, I don’t pull away. “Better?”

I nod, though the residual tremor in my limbs betrays me. “Yeah. Thanks.”

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