Page 47 of The Renegade Mate

I opened my mouth to accept their offer, but Sofia beat me to it. “Of course, they’re staying,” she said, walking into the kitchen and pulling up a chair beside Mai. “Besides, we’ve got bigger problems.” Sofia’s gaze traveled from me to Mai and then settled on the mug in front of her. “Brock and Hayley. They’re dismantling all the things Jem put in place.”

Mai’s fingers tightened around her cup, her knuckles turning white. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve imposed new rules. Only children from approved families can attend school. Every new job and every promotion must be approved by the Alphas. Any trip outside of the territory needs their consent.”

“Clever,” I said. “They can control the Pack that way. Any dissenting voices will shut up pretty quickly when they find their kids can’t go to school, they can’t leave, and they can’t get a promotion or new job.”

“A Pack isn’t a prison,” Mai said, her voice harsh. “They can’t just dictate life like that.”

“They can, and they are,” Sofia countered, a touch of bitterness seeping into her voice. “They even tried to tell Thomas who he can treat, but he put his foot down. Told them he’d leave if they enforced that rule. They’ve relented, for now, but only because they need a Pack doctor.”

The information hit my stomach like a lead weight. Brock and Hayley were destroying everything Jem and I had done since Oliver was defeated. We’d worked so hard to turn this Pack into a supportive community, one that Mai would be safe in. We couldn’t let them continue.

“We have to do something,” Mai muttered, meeting my gaze again.

“We need to start gathering our army,” I said. “We have supporters. We need to reach out to them. Quietly, without raising Brock and Hayley’s suspicion.”

Nods went around the table, a silent pact forming among us. We had to take back our Pack. For Jem. For the future of Three Rivers. No matter what.

I found Mason sitting up in the bed in Thomas’s makeshift treatment room. The small space was at the back of the house and served as an exam room of sorts, with a couple of beds, some basic medical supplies and equipment, and a large window that let in ample natural light.

Mason was propped up against some pillows on the nearest bed. Some color had returned to his face, which I took as a positive sign after the blood loss he’d suffered. But there was a tension in the set of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He blinked, focusing on me. “I’m doing okay. Just thinking through what happened.”

I noticed a glass of water on the bedside table, untouched, and next to it a black ballpoint pen. Mason usually had something in his hands when he was thinking, and I'd seen him twirl pens through his fingers like a magician. It calmed him. It was not a good sign that was on the table and not in his hands.

“You should drink something,” I said. “Doctor’s orders, right?”

The corner of Mason’s mouth quirked up, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached for the glass with a slightly unsteady hand and took a few sips before setting it back down.

“I’m fine, really,” he said. “I'm ready to get back out there.”

I nodded. That desire for action, for resolution, was something we all felt. “Right now, you just need to focus on recovering.”

Mason frowned but didn’t argue. He lay back against the pillows, weariness etched across his features.

I considered him for a moment, debating how to approach this. “I saw what you did for Shya during the fight,” I began. “Pushing her out of the way, taking that hit.”

Mason’s jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to the ground. “Someone had to protect her. She wasn’t paying attention to her left side.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But she didn’t exactly seem happy about it afterward.”

Mason exhaled heavily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She's infuriating. She insists she doesn’t need my help. That she can take care of herself.”

“She's been raised to be an Alpha. You can’t really blame her for being independent,” I pointed out.

“I know,” Mason replied, a hint of frustration in his tone. “Doesn’t change my instincts, though. I want to wrap her in Kevlar and hide her in a bunker.”

"I don't know Shya that well, but from what I've seen so far, I'm guessing she'd try and break out within five minutes."

Mason sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She would. And she'd probably succeed, too."

"She's stubborn and strong. Two traits that don't mix well with being protected. And, yes, I'm talking from experience here."

"Fucking tell me about it," he muttered. “Ever since I met Shya, I can’t stop thinking about her or her safety. It’s like this primal need to protect her, even though I know she doesn’t want or need it. It’s killing me that I’m here in bed while she’s out there about to face down that fucker Tristan.”

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