Page 64 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“Only the best,” she replies with a wink before handing us menus and disappearing to grab drinks.

“Famous, are we?” I tease, settling into my chair and flipping open the menu.

“You’re the witch who helped save the pack,” Gray points out, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “People tend to talk about things like that.”

“I’m not sure I like being a topic of discussion,” I grumble as I skim the options. “What’s good here?”

“The burgers,” he answers without missing a beat.

“Don’t all shifters say that about every restaurant?”

“Maybe. But here, it’s actually true.”

The banter is easy, and for a while, I let myself enjoy it. We order food, and as we wait, the conversation shifts to lighter topics—my admittedly terrible aim with throwing knives, his surprising skill at baking. We talk about old times in Red Arrow, back when we were kids. Life was easier for him then, that’s for sure. He never had any problem fitting in. It’s fun. Comfortable. Almost normal.

But the longer we talk, the more I notice something off about him. He’s smiling, laughing, but there’s a tightness around his eyes, a weight in his voice that I can’t quite place.

“You’re quiet tonight,” I say after a lull in the conversation.

“I’m always quiet,” he replies easily, taking a sip of his drink.

“No, you’re broody. There’s a difference.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the company.”

“Gray.”

He meets my gaze, and for a second, I see it—something flickering behind those blue eyes. But before I can press him, the waitress arrives with our food, and the moment slips away.

The burgers are as good as he promised, and I let the conversation drift back to safer topics. But the knot in my chest tightens with every passing minute. There’s something he’s not telling me. Something big.

It’s not until we’re halfway through the meal that he finally sets his fork down and leans forward.

“Jaslyn, there’s something I need to say.”

Here it is. The moment every part of me has been bracing for.

“Okay,” I say slowly, setting my burger down and wiping my hands on a napkin. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies me like he’s trying to memorize my face, like he’s weighing every word before he speaks.

“You’re free,” he says finally, his voice quiet but steady. “You can leave, Jaslyn. Go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. You’re not tied to the pack anymore.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

“What?”

“I promised you freedom,” he says, his jaw tight. “The demon threat is gone. The pack is safe. You don’t owe me—or anyone—anything.”

I stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. The laughter, the easy conversation, the playful teasing—it all feelslike a cruel setup now. Like he brought me here just to drop this on me.

“You’re… letting me go?” I manage, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

His hands clench into fists on the table, but his voice remains calm. “It’s what you deserve. You’ve been through enough, Jas. You’ve earned the chance to live your life on your terms.”

“You already gave mepermissionto leave before everything was settled with the demons, remember?” Anger flares, sharp and hot. “What if I don’t want to leave? What if I’m happy here?”

He looks away. “You think you’re happy now, but—”

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