Page 32 of Destined Mate

He saw Clyde slap Marcia, raking his claws across her face. Her hair flew and blood spurted as she fell to the ground. Once Clyde finished mocking her, Al, their only enforcer, pulled her away.

The pack turned away in fear, trying to maintain a distance from the altercation. There was nothing they could do, and to interfere would more than likely end up with someone dead.

Still, Jerome knew it hurt them not to help her. He swallowed a growl when he saw blood trickling down Marcia’s face. The claw marks would heal and leave no scar, which he was thankful for.

Clyde hadn’t been trying to hurt her. He’d been showing her how helpless she was under the new pack rules—that females were second-class pack members.

It was a scene of brutal dominance—the kind of violence meant to break spirits and solidify control. Yet, amidst thechaos, there was a glimmer of defiance in Marcia’s eyes, a spark of strength that refused to be extinguished by their cruelty.

Clyde and Albert also tormented Henry relentlessly, shoving him with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground or heckling him, calling him a coward, even though they knew he didn’t dare fight back.

When Henry ignored them, they amped up their torture. They flung dirt at him, spit at him, or if they were eating, it was food that was tossed at him. Even Al felt the sting of their taunts. As did the rest of the pack.

It was Tuesday, and Jerome’s auction was supposed to be held that night.

He was still in bed when he heard Albert’s heavy footsteps stop outside his door and it burst open.

“Get up,” Albert barked, looming in the doorway.

Fuck. Jerome squeezed his eyes shut. It was time, and although he trusted his vision, that didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid.

“You think this is a game?” Albert yanked the cover away with one swift tug.

“Just give me a minute,” Jerome mumbled.

“A minute? You’ve had all week,” Albert snapped as he tossed a garment bag on the bed.

Jerome sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. “I don’t know why you want me there so early.”

Jerome had been told that the auction was being held in the stone circle. He’d almost laughed. Of all the places that asshole alpha could’ve picked. It was truly perfect.

“Alpha said he wants you there, so we’re going to be there. We’re going over everything twice, and I’m not about to let you screw this up,” Albert said.

Jerome swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“We leave in fifteen. If you haven’t dressed yourself when I return, I will. And I will take my sweet time doing so,” Albertthreatened as he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jerome stared at the door, his heart pounding in his chest at the threat. His hands shook as he reached for the garment bag and opened it. He pulled out the shirt they’d given him to wear.

It was extremely small and sheer. If he could even get it on, it’d cling to his frame and leave his arms exposed. His stomach twisted with tension as he imagined the spectacle they intended to make of him.

His attention turned to the pants. He grimaced at the metallic sheen of the gray material. They were thin and low-cut with slim, almost skintight legs that left little to the imagination.

No one would wonder how big he was down there, thanks to the pants. He ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself that his vision would come true. It had to.

And oh look, no shoes.

When he finally dressed, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and glimpsed himself in the mirror.

He nearly laughed in disbelief. It was ridiculous—he looked like a stripper ready for some bachelor party gig—but if it got him into the stone circle, he didn’t care.

All week, Jerome had gone over every detail of his vision again and again until there was no doubt in his mind that this was exactly what needed to happen.

A small, mean smile crept up on his lips as he remembered the outcome of the vision.

He brushed his teeth, then splashed cold water on his face as he stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection looked pale and drawn, like someone slowly being drained of color. He dried off and ran his fingers through his hair. There. He was ready to go.

Voices filtered from the living area: Albert barking orders at someone—probably Henry. When the door opened again, Clyde stood there to escort him.

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