Page 16 of Destined Mate

The two Cross Creek enforcers were unmarried, so they lived at the pack house. Henry also lived there, but apart from them, no one else did.

After dinner, Jerome retired to the guestroom he was staying in. He just wanted to read for a while and forget everything. Outside his window, the moon hung low, a slender crescent that illuminated the grounds of the pack house.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the pull of his wolf, urging him to shift and run. But tonight, he resisted. His mind was full of worry and fear. The vision of Alpha Wesley’s battle replayed endlessly whenever he closed his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Jerome attempted to steer his thoughts elsewhere. He took a hot bath, the warmth soothing his tired body as tendrils of steam curled upward.

Once the tension in his muscles faded, he dried off, put on night pants, and settled into bed. It felt so odd not having someone next to him.

He picked up the latest science fiction novel, its crisp pages and vibrant cover promising adventures beyond the stars, and read, immersing himself in a world far removed from his own reality.

As he flipped through the chapters, the tales of alien civilizations and interstellar travel distracted him from present-day threats. Yet, every so often, his wolf’s senses prickled. He had no idea why his wolf was so uneasy.

Jerome’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting him back from a galaxy far away. Reluctantly, he set the book aside and checked the message.

Henry:Talked to the council. They don’t see the need to send anyone when there has been no legit threat posed by any alpha. I’m sorry.

Jerome responded, his fingers dancing across the screen with practiced ease before he tossed his cell phone onto the night table. It landed with a soft thud, a sound that echoed his frustration.

Of course they’d ignored his vision, dismissing him without a second thought. But he couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him like a second skin. He picked up his book again, but he couldn’t concentrate.

The characters and their cosmic dilemmas seemed trivial. With a resigned sigh, he placed the book back on his nightstand and extinguished the lamp.

Darkness swallowed the room, save for the moonlight sneaking through the curtains. Jerome closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep.

And once more, he found himself watching Wesley challenge Elmer in the circle for leadership. Anxiety gnawed in his gut. The scent of fear rode the air currents—metallic and sharp.

Suddenly, the figure of Alpha Wesley, his golden yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight, turned to Jerome and spoke, which was new. As the alpha vanished, Jerome heard the words“Hold on. I’m coming.”

Jerome woke with a start, gasping for air. His heart thrummed violently against his ribs and sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill in the room from the air conditioning.

The moonlight still filtered through the curtains, casting ghostly patterns across his bed as he sat there, trying to steady his breath and calm his racing thoughts. Okay, so he hadn’t been asleep long.

He got up and used the bathroom, washed his hands, then gulped some water from the sink. “What the hell was that?” Jerome whispered to his reflection.

Nothing good was the answer. He dropped back into the bed and fought to go back to sleep. But as he teetered on the edge of slumber, a faint rustling from outside pulled him back to alertness.

He lay still, listening intently. The rustling grew into discernible steps—cautious yet unmistakably deliberate. Every instinct screamed that something was amiss.

Without turning on any lights, Jerome slowly rose from his bed and crept toward the window. Peering through the curtains, he scanned the grounds bathed in moonlight but saw no one.

Then, at the periphery of his vision, a shadow moved swiftly across the open space between two trees.

Then another one.

And another.

Immediately on high alert, Jerome considered calling Henry but decided against it until he had more concrete evidence that this wasn’t just some pack members out for a late-night walk or teenagers sneaking around.

His wolf said that wasn’t it.

The larger of the three figures moved toward the direction of the pack house—cloaked entirely in black, with movements too tactical for any casual members or pups out during ungodly hours.

He texted Henry just as he heard the front door of the pack house bust open and a hair-raising howl filled the air. Shit, shit, shit, they were under attack. Again. He didn’t wait for a response from Henry—time was too precious now.

Slipping his cell into his pants, he sprinted out of his room, his feet barely touching the cold wooden floors. As he approached the den, there was another loud crash, followed by a series of growls and the distinct sounds of a scuffle—snarls, thuds, bodies slamming against walls. Shit breaking.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins with ferocious intensity.

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