Page 31 of Broken Forced Mate
“We know everything,” I continue. “And just so we’re clear, even if you married her, those powers would’ve remained dormant. You were not her mate, Bastian. Or should I call you Nathan Lineman?”
“The agricultural student identity was well-constructed,” Oren adds. “But it seems my pack’s intelligence networks are more comprehensive than you anticipated.”
Bastian looks between us, probably working out his chances of escape versus the value of whatever information he might extract from this confrontation.
“You think you’ve won something,” he finally comments. “But this changes nothing. I didn’t need her powers to activate. That was never the plan. Besides, Thornridge has been planning for contingencies since before I ever set foot in Llewelyn territory.”
“What kind of contingencies?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
“The kind that don’t require cooperation from the target.” His smile is cold, showing too many teeth. “You activated yourwife’s enhanced abilities, which makes her even more valuable, whether she’s willing to help us or not.”
My hands clench into fists, and it takes conscious effort not to cross the room and tear his throat out. All I’m waiting for is one order from my alpha. I’ve acted on my own enough; I’d rather not piss him off even more today.
“Touch her and I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Start a war?” Bastian laughs, but there’s nothing human about the sound. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from someone who’s already seen too much violence to be intimidated by threats. “Too late for that, friend. The war started months ago when we identified the Amanzite reserves. Everything since then has just been tactical.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Oren asks.
“Your sister was supposed to be the easy solution—marriage, inheritance rights, a convenient accident that would look completely natural. Since that’s no longer possible, we’ll take what we want the old-fashioned way.”
The way he talks about assassinating Oren and using Raegan makes my vision go red around the edges. Only years of disciplined training keep me from attacking him where he stands.
He turns toward the door, but I’m already moving. My hand closes around his arm just as he reaches the hallway.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Actually, I am.” He spins with surprising speed and drives his elbow into my ribs.
I block the strike and counter with my own, but he’s faster than I expected. Special forces training, probably, beforehe joined Thornridge. We grapple in the narrow hallway, both vying for position and advantage.
He uses the confined space to force me back with a series of quick strikes that keep me off balance. A knee aimed at my stomach connects with my groin, sending pain shooting through my core.
The impact gives him room to break free, and he bursts through the front entrance and sprints toward a motorcycle parked across the street—clearly his planned escape route in case things went south.
“Oren, get him!” I shout, but Bastian is already starting the engine.
The motorcycle roars to life, and he looks back at us with that same dangerous smile.
“This isn’t over!” he yells over the sound of the engine. “You’ve helped us without even realizing it, my friend. We thank you for that.”
The bike roars away, leaving me standing in Oren’s doorway watching our best source of intelligence disappear down the street in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
“Well,” Oren says from behind me, “that was educational.”
I turn to face him, expecting the full force of his alpha rage. Instead, I see something more complex—anger mixed with understanding, personal betrayal tempered by tactical pragmatism.
“How did you know marrying her would activate those abilities?” he demands.
“I didn’t; not for sure. I knew it was possible. Raegan and I figured out a few years ago that we were mates.” I rush to add,“I haven’t touched her, I swear. I think that’s a big part of why she left. I told her she was wrong when she asked me about it.”
Oren crosses his arms and drags in a long breath. “They were planning to use my sister. He was marrying her just so he could…I’m going to fucking kill that bastard.”
We stand in his doorway, both understanding that we’re dealing with something much larger and more dangerous than a simple territorial dispute. This has been planned on a scale that threatens the stability of the entire region.
“Close the door,” Oren orders. “We need to call the others.”
Back in the kitchen, Oren starts making phone calls while I get a bag of peas from the freezer and press it against my crotch. That little fucker can’t even fight with honor. What kind of wolf knees someone in the balls?
