Page 30 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“Understood,” I reply, though a small part of me doesn’t quite believe it. The fact that she’s staying at all feels like a victory, no matter her reasons.

She moves toward the stairs, but she stops halfway and glances back at me. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

“For what?”

“For giving me a choice,” she replies. Then, without waiting for a response, she heads upstairs, leaving me alone in the living room.

I sink onto the couch, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as the tension in my shoulders finally eases. She’s staying. She’s free, and she’s staying. And though I’ll never say it out loud, I’m more grateful than I have any right to be.

Chapter 10 - Jaslyn

It’s unsettling how quickly I’ve gotten used to Gray being everywhere. His voice carries through the hallways when he’s delegating orders. His scent lingers in rooms long after he’s left. It’s not that he’s overbearing, exactly. It’s more that everything here revolves around him, like he’s the sun and the pack orbits him without even realizing it.

I’d call it arrogance if it weren’t for the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice it himself. Watching him now, striding through the packhouse with that unshakable confidence, I can’t decide if I’m impressed or irritated. Probably both. The pack looks up to him, and for good reason. He’s steady, decisive, and surprisingly patient—qualities I wouldn’t have pegged him for ten years ago.

But there’s tension beneath the surface, too. It’s in the way he’s constantly on alert, in the quick glances he shoots toward the edges of the forest every time we step outside, like he’s expecting demons to come crashing through the trees at any moment. He’s carrying the weight of everything—his pack, their safety, me—and he doesn’t even seem to realize how much it’s wearing on him.

He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. And honestly, so am I.

From the corner of the training field, I watch him run drills with some of the younger wolves again. The wolves eat it up, hanging on his every word like he’s a living, breathing manual on how to survive. And honestly, he kind of is. He doesn’t just bark orders; he shows them, sparring when necessary, correcting stances, making jokes that set them at ease.

Gray’s a good leader. A great one, even. It’s not just the wolves on the field who respect him. Every shifter I’ve encountered in Red Arrow territory has spoken about him with admiration, even affection. That’s not a common thing for an alpha. Most packs follow out of obligation or fear, but these wolves? They’d follow Gray into hell if he asked them to. And it’s not hard to see why.

His leadership is the reason I’m here. The reason they’ve accepted me as one of their own. Well, mostly accepted me. There are still a few outliers who eye me like I might set their fur on fire if they breathe wrong, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. For the most part, the pack has been surprisingly… welcoming. And I know that’s because of Gray.

I owe him for that. And for more than that, really. He freed me. He gave me back my life. The least I can do is try to make his a little easier.

When he calls an end to the session, I slip away before he can notice me watching. I’ve already made up my mind to head into town, and the last thing I need is him asking questions. He’d probably insist on coming with me or try to convince me to stay put. And I don’t want to give him the chance to talk me out of this. Not when I’m trying to do something nice for him.

The town is quiet this late in the afternoon, with most of the shops winding down for the day. A few shifters pass me on the sidewalk, nodding in polite recognition. I keep my head down, scanning the storefronts for anything that might catch my eye. What do you get for an alpha who has everything? More importantly, what do you get for the man who broke your chains and gave you your freedom back?

A book? Too impersonal. Weapons? Too impersonal in the opposite direction. Maybe something practical, like new clothes or… no, that’s ridiculous. Why is this so hard?

I’m so caught up in my internal debate that I almost don’t see him until it’s too late.

Tim.

He steps out of a small café just ahead of me, holding a to-go cup and chatting with another wolf I don’t recognize. My stomach drops, and I freeze mid-step, debating whether I should turn around before he notices me.

Tim was one of the worst back then, the kind of bully who didn’t just throw insults but twisted the knife so deep, you’d feel it for weeks. He’d make snide comments about my magic, call me a freak loud enough for everyone to hear, and once even “accidentally” knocked over a potion I’d spent hours perfecting. He wasn’t subtle about it, either; he seemed to take genuine pleasure in watching me squirm. Since coming back, I’ve made it a point to avoid him. Pack gatherings, training sessions, even a simple walk through the halls—I’ve always managed to keep my distance. Until now.

“Jaslyn,” he drawls, dismissing his companion with a wave. “I was wondering when I’d run into you.”

I force myself to keep walking, pretending I didn’t hear him. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll let it go.

No such luck.

“Hey, don’t be like that.” His voice follows me like a shadow, smooth and falsely friendly. “You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

I stop, cursing myself under my breath, and turn to face him. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy,” he repeats, taking a slow sip from his cup as he steps closer. “Right. Too busy to say hello to an old friend.”

I bite back the urge to laugh. “Friend? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Come on, Jas. Don’t be like that. We’ve got history.”

“And most of it involves you making my life miserable.”

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