Page 5 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

Theo chuckles as he stands. “For what it’s worth, I think she’ll surprise you.”

As the door closes behind him, I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.The right thing. That’s what I told myself ten years ago, too.

And look how that turned out.

***

It doesn’t take long to track her down. Just like my beta said, witches leave traces, and Jaslyn is no exception. A few phone calls and a good sniff around, and I’ve found her.

The irony isn’t lost on me as I stand in the shadow of a rundown, two-story building on the edge of a neighboring town, staring at the peeling paint and crooked sign above the door.Malcolm’s Oddities & Services. The name practically screams “tourist trap,” but then again, I’m not here for sightseeing. I’m here because the trail ended here. Because she is here.

I didn’t expect this.

I thought I’d find her thriving somewhere, maybe running a coven or working with another pack. I imagined her successful, independent, and every bit the spitfire I remember. Instead, I’m staring at the dark window of a shop that smells like old wood, damp earth, and misery. The knot in my chest tightens until it’s hard to breathe.

When I step inside, the air shifts. It’s saturated with the kind of magic that makes my wolf stir uneasily. The placeis dim, cluttered with shelves crammed full of trinkets, spell ingredients, and things I don’t care to identify. At the far end of the room, a hunched man stands behind a counter, his gray hair greasy and slicked back. Malcolm, I’m guessing. He looks up as the door creaks shut behind me.

“My, my,” the man drawls, his voice oily enough to make my skin crawl. “What brings an alpha to my humble establishment?”

I take a step closer, ignoring the way the floorboards groan under my weight. “I’m looking for someone.”

Malcolm raises an eyebrow. “This isn’t a police station, wolf. We don’t deal in missing persons.”

“Her name’s Jaslyn,” I go on. “And I know she’s here.”

For a moment, Malcolm’s face remains neutral. Then he smirks, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to snap his neck. “Ah, Jaslyn,” he says, drawing out her name like it’s a joke only he understands. “Hard worker, that one. Real good with her hands. Shame she’s got a bit of a temper.”

My wolf snarls beneath my skin, but I pull myself together enough to continue. “Where is she?”

Malcolm tilts his head, considering me like I’m some kind of interesting puzzle. “Why the sudden interest? You didn’t seem too concerned about her ten years ago when you kicked her out.”

How the hell does he know about that? My pulse ticks faster, but I keep my expression locked down, giving him nothing. I’m not about to let some slimy, third-rate warlock rattle me. It doesn’t matter how he knows.

I narrow my eyes and step closer, letting some of the alpha in my voice slip through. “I’m not here to explain myself to you, old man. Where is she?”

Malcolm doesn’t flinch. He just shrugs and gestures toward the back of the shop. “Working, naturally. We usually keep her at the house, but we were short-staffed today. Lucky day for you, it seems.”

I move past him without another word, pushing open a door that leads into a narrow hallway. The smell hits me first—sweat, dirt, and the faint metallic tang of blood. It’s the kind of smell that clings to the walls, the floors, the air itself. My stomach turns as I follow the hallway to another door, this one slightly ajar.

When I step through, the sight stops me cold.

The room is large, with rows of workstations cluttered with tools, herbs, and half-finished magical trinkets. At the far end, bent over a table, is Jaslyn.

Her hair is longer now, tangled and dull where it used to shine like fire under the sunlight. It spills over her shoulders in thick, unkempt waves, a poor echo of the wild beauty it once was. Her clothes are simple and worn, the kind of fabric that chafes and barely holds together after too many washes. They’re too loose on her, hanging off a frame that’s thinner than it should be. But even through the threadbare material, I can’t help but notice the curves that weren’t there before.

She’s not the girl I banished. She’s a woman now. Her body is fuller in some ways and sharper in others, and there’s something striking about the contrast. Despite the obvious toll of her life here, there’s a strength to her posture, a stubborn determination in the way she moves, even when her hands shake. Her skin is pale but still dusted with freckles, giving her a beautiful glow that doesn’t belong in a place like this.

It’s unsettling. Infuriating. How can she still look this… breathtaking? Even worn down, even hollowed out, she’s still the most captivating thing I’ve ever seen.

She doesn’t see me. She doesn’t know I’m here. But even from across the room, the sight of her stirs something deep inside me, something overwhelming and protective. She’s too good for this place, too strong and too beautiful to be left here, wasting away under someone else’s thumb. And she’s only here because of me.

I’m going to fix it. No matter what it takes.

I thought I’d prepared myself for this. For the possibility that she might not have had it easy after I banished her. But nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing her like this. Beaten down. Stripped of the fire that used to define her.

Guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave. This is my fault. I made her vulnerable. I left her to fend for herself, and this is where it got her. Here in this hellhole, working herself to the bone for scraps.

My wolf growls, a low, dangerous sound that I can’t suppress. She doesn’t deserve this. Not Jaslyn. Not the girl I banished to save my pack. The girl I’ve thought about every day since.

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