Page 60 of The Renegade Mate

“As you might have realized by now, you’re not going to the Pack Meet,” he continued in his calm voice that was starting to really get on my nerves. Somehow, this was worse: the calm, everyday conversation we were having. He just told me he planned to kill me. It should have some emotion behind it, anger or vengeance or justice. But this? This was just another chore for him, like changing a car tire.

“Brock decided that Sofia’s execution at the Meet will serve just as good a warning as yours. So, you are no longer needed. You and Ryan have to challenge for leadership of the Three Rivers by the end of the Meet. Given that, he couldn’t risk taking you there, not when Ryan likely has a plan to release you and give you the opportunity to make that challenge. Brock wanted a way to make sure neither of you was there.”

My breath caught in my throat as the reality of the situation hit me. They were using the mate bond as a trap, betting that Ryan would come to rescue me rather than go to the Meet.

“You think Ryan will fall for this?”

Carl responded by pulling out a gun, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light. He brandished it with a smirk, the sinister glint in his eyes a promise of a deadly confrontation. “Yes. And when he does, I’ll be here, waiting for him.”

I stared at the gun, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind reeling. This was more than a threat; it was a challenge, a dare. They were playing with our lives, manipulating our bond, and all I could do was hope that Ryan would see through it.

Carl got out, opened my door, and grabbed me. I fought. There was nothing else I could do, so I kicked and screamed and threw my body around. Carl just sighed, like I was a puppy who’d peed on the floor. Then he punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me, as Carl picked me up and carried me into the cabin.

He left me tied to a chair in the middle of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him.

This was not good. I was petrified. Not just for myself, but for Ryan, for the Pack, for the future we were trying to build. This wasn’t just a battle for leadership; it was a fight for the very soul of our Pack, and we were losing.

My mind went back to Sofia, to the horror that awaited her at the Meet. And for what? To serve as a twisted warning? The injustice of it all gnawed at me, the rage and despair intertwining until I felt like I was drowning in it.

I was so angry with Brock and Hayley. Their treachery, their manipulations, their willingness to destroy everything we held dear, all for power and control. How had it come to this? How had we let them win?

For the first time, I felt truly defeated. The ropes binding my wrists were tight, but they were nothing compared to the sick sensation of helplessness that squeezed my entire body.

I pulled at my bonds, the frustration boiling over, but they held fast. Tears stung my eyes, but there was no way I was letting them fall. I wasn’t going to break, not now.

I rocked the chair to the left and the right, then the left again, tipping myself over onto the ground with a dull thud. I froze, waiting to see if Carl would come in. Nothing. Probably out there lying in wait for Ryan, the prick.

My legs were strapped to the chair. I wriggled and thrashed. And didn’t move a fucking inch of the bonds. Sure, tip the chair over so I can lie on the dusty, cold floor.

Great bloody idea, Mai.

Chapter thirty-six

Ryan

Istood still, the forest around me a cacophony of nature’s whispers, but I only focused on the soft padding of Derek, Mason, Ivan, Due-Lah, and a select few others from the Bridgetown Pack. All of them were in wolf form, muscles taut, eyes alert, noses sniffing the earth and the wind. Only the ones we really trusted were with us. Tristan had spies in the Bridgetown Pack, eyes that were tracking every move Michael and Camille made, ready to inform him of their movements and actions.

We had to be careful, so damn careful. Michael and Camille had been forced to playact their normal routine, putting on a show as if everything was fine, hiding the truth that we knew what Tristan was planning. Now, it was our turn. We were hunting Tristan and his men, and I was hoping to get to him before he could attack. Michael had asked me to be in charge of this operation. I knew he was worried that there were still people in his Pack who were working with Tristan. He was putting the lives of himself, his mate, and his daughter in my hands, and I wasn’t going to let him down.

A sudden halt in movement from Derek caught my eye. His wolf form, massive and alert, was frozen like a statue, ears forward. Mason, too, stopped in his tracks, his body a tense line of anticipation.

I crept ahead, and then, through the veil of leaves and shadows, I saw it. Tristan’s ambush. His men were stationed beside the road, hidden by the thick underbrush. A truck was parked on the road, and a tree had been felled so it landed across the truck. The convoy from Bridgetown would have to stop to remove the tree and the truck before they could go on, and while they did so, Tristan and his men could attack.

I signaled to the others, telling them to stop, my gestures conveying the need for caution and precision.

I inched closer. We were upwind; they wouldn’t be able to smell us coming just yet. We were ready for this. Eager for the fight. I couldn’t see Tristan, and most of his team were pretty well hidden from a first glance. If you looked closer, though, you could see the telltale signs. A piece of clothing to the left, the tip of a boot poking out from under leaves. I counted six on the other side of the road and five on our side.

I crept back to the others, but a rustle in the foliage behind them caught my attention. My body tensed, my senses sharpening as I turned.

Tucker.

He stepped out from behind a tree, his human form looking out of place among the stealthy wolf forms of Derek, Mason, Ivan, and the others.

He crossed his arms and glared at me. “I’m not leaving!”

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, my voice a mix of disbelief and anger. This was no place for Tucker; his presence could jeopardize everything.

“I came to protect my family,” Tucker asserted, his voice resolute but with a slight tremble to it. “I couldn’t just stay at home and wait for them to be attacked. It’s my parents, my sister. I had to do something.”

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