Page 7 of His Mate

The pounding at the front door ripped me out of sleep, my head splitting from the moonshine, and for a second, I didn’t know where I was. Everything was blurry, the room tilting sideways, and I sat up, clutching my forehead, trying to force the world to settle when it refused to. Another knock—no, not a knock, more like a hammering, the wood rattling in its frame—and that was when it all came flooding back.

Today. It wastoday. Mybirthday.

“Shit,” I muttered, scrambling to my feet, and the room spun violently, my stomach lurching.

“Wake up,” I hissed, shaking Mariah’s shoulder. She groaned, rolling over, eyes half-open and bleary. “They’re here.”

“Already?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and something else. Fear, maybe. Or maybe that was just me.

“Yeah,” I whispered, and I could see the realization hit her, see it in the way her face crumpled, just for a second, before she forced herself to nod.

Lia was awake now, too, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, and we all looked at each other, this awful, tense silence stretching between us. None of us wanted to say it, to acknowledge that this was real, that this was actually happening.

The pounding came again, harder this time, and I could hear one of them grumbling outside.

“Come on,” one of the voices barked. “We don’t have all day.”

“Just—just go back to sleep,” I said, swallowing hard and turning toward the door. My heart was slamming against my ribs, every beat echoing in my ears, but I forced myself to take a step. And then another.

“Kendra, wait,” Lia said, but I shook my head, not looking back. I couldn’t look at them. If I did, I might start to break down and cry. I’d lose what little courage I had left, and then I’d never open that door.

I reached for the handle, my fingers trembling, and pulled it open.

The two men standing there were enormous, their shoulders nearly filling the doorway, and they had that hard, rough look about them, like they’d been chiseled out of concrete and left in the sun too long. One of them had a scar running from his eyebrow down to his jaw, a thin, jagged line that stood out against his dark skin. The other was paler, with arms like tree trunks and a scowl that could have curdled milk.

Instantly, they made me feel uneasy.

“Kendra Riley?” the scarred one asked, his voice flat, mechanical. Like this was just another normal fucking Tuesday for him.

I swallowed, forcing myself to nod. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“It’s time,” he said, and for a moment, I just stood there, my mouth opening and closing, all the things I wanted to say scrambling up in my throat and tangling together until none of them made any sense.

This is wrong.

I don’t want to go.

I shouldn’t have to do this.

They have no right.

But I didn’t say any of it. I just stood there, silent, feeling my legs start to shake, and then the man with the scar reached out, grabbing my arm in a grip that felt like iron.

“Let’s go.”

“No,” I said, finally finding my voice, but it was small, weak, barely more than a whisper. “No, I don’t want to?—”

He didn’t even let me finish. He just pulled me forward, dragging me out of the apartment, and that was when I started to fight. It was stupid, and I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it. My body reacted on its own, jerking and twisting, trying to pry his fingers off my arm, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he snapped, his breath hot against my ear, and I could feel the panic rising, clawing at the back of my throat.

“Let her go!” Mariah shouted, but the second man stepped into the doorway, blocking her view, and I saw her face crumple, saw the tears welling up, and that was the worst part. Worse than the fear, worse than the pain.

I was really going to miss my friends.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please, don’t do this.”

The scarred man sighed, rolling his eyes. “Why do they always have to make a scene?” he muttered to his partner, and before I could react, he bent down and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing at all. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me, and suddenly, I was staring at the filthy, cracked linoleum of the hallway floor, my hair hanging in my face, and a strangled cry escaped my throat.

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