Page 52 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

Wiley steps up beside his father, and his smirk is just as irritating as ever. “Big words for someone who used to grovel at our feet. Don’t think we’ve forgotten what you really are. What you’ll always be.”

Jaslyn’s green eyes burn with fury. “And what will you always be, Wiley? A pathetic little boy who hides behind his father?”

Wiley’s smirk falters, and his face flushes as he throws his hands in the air. “Enough. I’ll have you back, Jaslyn, one way or another. You’ll see. And when I do, you’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she demands, stepping closer. The hum of her magic grows louder, and the ground beneath us trembles. Even my wolf flinches at the intensity of her power, but I stay rooted, watching her take control of the moment. “If you so much as look at me or another girl again, I’ll hunt you down myself,” she warns. “And this time, I won’t stop with just scaring you. I’ll burn your empire to the ground.”

Malcolm’s bravado falters as the weight of her words sinks in. The light surrounding her pulses, brighter and stronger, and for the first time, I see real fear in his eyes.

“You’ve made your point,” Malcolm finally states. “But don’t think this is over. I’ll be back.”

He turns to leave, motioning for Wiley and the rest of his men to follow as the girls take off into the woods. Wiley lingers for a moment, his gaze moving between Jaslyn and me before he spits at the ground and storms after his father.

When they’re gone, the clearing falls silent except for the sound of Jaslyn’s ragged breathing. Her magic flickers out,leaving the air heavy and still. She sways, and I catch her arm before she can stumble.

“Jaslyn—”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, but her voice is shaky, and her hands tremble at her sides.

“You’re not fine.” I steer her away from the group, keeping my voice low. “You’re about two seconds away from falling apart, and that’s okay. But not here.”

Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue as I lead her toward a cluster of trees on the edge of the clearing. The others watch us go, but no one says a word.

When we’re out of earshot, she finally collapses against a tree with her face in her hands. Her breathing is shallow, and I can see the telltale signs of an anxiety attack creeping in—the quick, uneven breaths, the way her shoulders shake.

As I watch her unravel in front of my eyes, I make a silent promise to the both of us: I’ll protect her from anyone who tries to take her freedom away again.

Chapter 18 - Jaslyn

Gray drags me behind a cluster of trees like we’re hiding from the law, and I don’t fight it. His hand is firm on my arm, but not rough. Not pushy. Just solid. Like he knows exactly how close I am to crumbling, and he’s determined to stop it before it happens where anyone can see.

“Sit,” he orders after a moment of me leaning against a tree.

I glare at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

“No, you’re not,” he agrees calmly, crouching in front of me. “But you’re shaking like a leaf, and I need you to sit before you fall over.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate that my legs feel like jelly, that my chest is tight and my hands are trembling. But most of all, I hate that he’s looking at me like that—steady and patient, like he’ll stand between me and the whole damn world if it means keeping me upright.

So, I sit.

It’s not graceful. My knees buckle halfway down, and I end up landing with an unceremonious thud against the base of a tree. Gray sits next to me, close but not crowding, with his arms resting on his knees like he’s just here for the scenery.

The pressure in my chest ratchets up another notch, and my nails bite into my palms as I force my breathing to slow. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good thing I’m not babysitting.”

“Feels like it.”

His lips spasm, almost a smile. “Call it… strategic support.”

“Strategic support,” I repeat flatly.

“Yeah. You keep the world from falling apart, and I keep you from losing your mind while you do it. Teamwork.”

His voice is calm and steady, and it settles something jagged in me. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the sound of it instead of the storm raging inside me. “You don’t have to do this,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“Stop lying to me.” There’s no bite to it, no frustration. Just quiet honesty. “You’re not fine, and that’s okay. You’ve been through hell, Jas. No one’s expecting you to just walk away from it unscathed.”

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