Page 22 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

"Kane," I say shortly. "He's moving south. Toward Rosecreek. Fifty miles out."

Something fierce crosses Rafael's face—the protective instinct of a brother who's already seen his sister hurt too many times, a packmate who’s seen his team wounded. Already, he’s coiled like a spring, preparing to jump into action.

"This isn’t over,” he promises, and I believe him. I know better than anyone that it isn’t over. I’ve had to live with it far longer than Rafael has.

He walks away, leaving me with the weight of his words and the knowledge that Kane is coming. Coming for my pack, for this sanctuary, for everyone I've tried so hard to protect.

Coming for Camila, if he discovers what she once meant to me. What she still means, though I can barely admit it to myself.

The spring sunshine suddenly feels cold, inadequate against the growing shadows. In my pocket, Elena's message burns like an accusation:

They're getting closer.

And I still don't know if I'm strong enough to keep everyone safe this time.

***

Evening finds me in the pack center's strategy room, surrounded by maps and intelligence reports. Elena's data paints a clear picture: Kane's forces are moving in a deliberate pattern, sweeping south through Minnesota. Testing defenses. Gathering information. Getting closer.

Even if they don’t know we’re here, which we suspect they don’t, they must have some hint of our trail here. Likely, they’re hitting multiple locations across the country. All to find me. All to find my people.

Camila’s forgeries, spoofs, and misdirections have helped, but we still have to be incredibly cautious.

"They hit another sanctuary pack," James reports, spreading photos across the table. "Two days ago, near the Canadian border. Same pattern as our compound—quick strike, targeted application of the serum, minimal casualties but maximum impact."

I study the images, my wolf snarling at the clinical precision of the attacks. "Any survivors?"

"Most of the pack escaped. But three more lost their shifts." James's voice catches slightly. "The reports say... they say Kane's people are getting better at deploying the serum. More efficient."

"They're practicing," Elena says quietly, an uncomplicated sort of dread under the words.

The knowledge settles like lead in my gut. Because this is what Kane does—methodical, patient, inexorable. He doesn't just destroy his targets; he uses each attack to improve, refine his methods, and become more lethal.

Just like he did with my parents.

The memory rises unbidden: coming home to find the study destroyed. Kane's voice on the phone afterward, explaining exactly why he'd chosen them, why their work with humans had made them targets.

The scent of blood was so thick in the air that it made me sick. I kneeled in the wreckage and heaved until there was nothing left.

"Marcus?" Asher's voice pulls me back to the present. "We need to make some decisions."

Right. Decisions. Leadership. Focus on the mission, not the memories.

"How many sanctuaries are left between here and the border?"

"Three," Elena reports, highlighting points on the map. "But two of them are small, probably not equipped to handle Kane's forces. The third..." She hesitates. "The third is where we sent some of our own.”

The implications hit hard. If Kane finds that sanctuary, finds our injured pack members...

"We need to warn them," I say. "All of them. Get them to evacuate before—"

Movement in the doorway catches my attention. Camila stands there, dark hair loose around her shoulders, a stack of photos in her arms, her expression unreadable as she takes in our tense postures.

"Sorry," she says quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. These need Elena's approval before—”

"It's fine," I cut in, even though nothing about this is fine. "We were just finishing."

But Camila doesn't leave. Instead, she moves further into the room, her eyes scanning the maps, the photos, the evidence of Kane's approaching threat. I see understanding dawn in her expression, followed by something that looks terrifyingly like determination.

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