Page 60 of His Mate

“Whiskey?” he said, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes. “Where’d you get that?”

“Pantry,” I said with a shrug, holding the bottle out toward him. “Figured you might want some company.”

The guard stared at the bottle for a moment, and I could almost see the internal battle playing out in his head—whether to play it cool and turn me away or give in to the temptation. After a long pause, he grinned, a lopsided, almost goofy smile that made him seem even younger.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, taking the bottle from my hand and uncorking it with a quick twist. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Not exactly,” I said, watching as he took a long swig from the bottle, his eyes squinting slightly as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. He coughed and laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just passing through,” I continued.

“Well, welcome to Sunnygrove,” he said, leaning back against the warehouse wall as if he were introducing me to some grand, thriving town instead of the broken shell of a place I’d stumbled into. “Or what’s left of it.”

“Sunnygrove?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. The name sounded far too cheerful for the crumbling town we were standing in.

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Used to be a nice little suburban place, from what I hear. Before everything went to hell. Resistance took it over about, what, fifty years ago? Been living here ever since.”

I watched him take another swig, his movements already looser. “So, you’ve lived here your whole life?”

He nodded, the bottle already making its rounds back to me. I pretended to sip before handing it back.

“Born and raised. My parents were Resistance fighters too. Most of the people here were born after the Resistance set up shop. No one really remembers much from the old days except for the stories.”

I leaned against the wall next to him, crossing my arms. “And how long has the Resistance been around?”

“Ah, way before my time. Maybe even before my grandparents were born.” He glanced at me, and I saw a flicker of pride in his eyes. “It started when the wolves first came into power, after the Collapse. Humans needed a way to fight back, and that’s how the Resistance was born. We’ve been holding out against them ever since.”

The guard took another swig, this one longer than the last, and I could already see the whiskey working its magic. His movements were sluggish, his words a little more slurred.

“Been over two hundred years since the Collapse, though. Ain’t nobody left who remembers what life was like before,” he said like he was concentrating really hard.

“So, what do you all do here?” I asked, keeping my tone light, friendly. “Just wait for the next fight?”

The guard shrugged, handing the bottle back to me. His grin widened, turning almost boyish. “Mostly. There’s some farming, some scavenging. We keep the place running, but things have been quiet lately. Not a lot of wolves out this way, until…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Until you and your wolf showed up.”

I froze for a moment, but quickly forced a smile, taking a sip from the bottle and handing it back to him.

“He’s not dangerous,” I said, my voice soft. “Not like the others. I promise.”

The guard snorted, the sound thick with disbelief. “They’re all dangerous. That’s what they do—hunt and kill. Wolves don’tjust travel with humans unless they’ve got some twisted plan in mind. Surprised Captain Sorin didn’t just execute him on the spot.”

My heart clenched at his words, the casual way he spoke of death and execution. Sorin might be planning something for Rowan, and this idiot was just drunk enough to tell me what.

“You ever get tired of it?” I asked, shifting the conversation. “All this waiting for a fight that may never come?”

The guard gave me a sideways look, one eye squinting like he was trying to make sense of what I was saying.

“Sometimes,” he admitted after a long pause. “But it’s all we’ve ever known, you know? Fighting back. Waiting for the day the wolves slip up, or we catch one of them off guard.” He took another long drink from the bottle, and I could see the whiskey finally doing its job. His head lolled slightly as he leaned back against the wall. “Not much else to do around here but drink and wait.”

He grinned again, this time more sluggishly, the alcohol pulling him under. His hand slipped from the bottle, and I caught it before it could fall to the ground.

“Looks like you’ve had enough,” I murmured, watching as his eyelids fluttered, his head tilting back.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent now. “Sorin… She’ll… find out…”

His voice trailed off as he slumped against the wall, the bottle now completely forgotten. I watched him for a moment, making sure he was well and truly out before I turned my gaze toward the warehouse.

Rowan was inside, and now I had my chance.

And for some reason, no one was stopping me.

---