Page 25 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate

Something flickers across his face—surprise? Recognition? "You've been talking to Maia? The girl from the Smoke?"

"She understands a lot about running from violence." I meet his eyes steadily.

The words hit home—I can see it in the way he shifts as if preparing to fall back into a defensive position, in the momentary crack in his composed expression. But before he can respond, Thalia appears in the doorway behind him.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, though her knowing look suggests the timing isn't entirely coincidental. "But if we're doing a sweep this morning, we should go now, and everyone else is off-duty. Light's best at dawn for spotting signs of surveillance."

Marcus's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue further. "Fine. Gear up. We leave in ten."

The pre-dawn air is crisp with spring frost as we set out—Marcus, Thalia, and me, moving through Rosecreek's awakening streets toward the forest border. Thalia takes point, her movements are precise and professional. I know little of her past, but for what Raf has told me. It’s enough.

"Stay close," Marcus murmurs as we enter the tree line. "Kane's scouts are professionals. If they're out here..."

"I can handle myself," I remind him, perhaps more sharply than necessary. "You've seen me fight."

"That's not—" He cuts himself off, frustration rolling off him in waves. "Just... be careful."

We move through the forest in tense silence, checking the markers Byron's team has placed at regular intervals. The rising sun casts long shadows through the trees, turning the woods into a maze of light and dark. Every movement, every sound draws our immediate attention.

"Their patterns are similar, I’ve noticed," Thalia says suddenly, crouching to examine a broken branch. "To what the Smoke used to do. Professional surveillance, careful territory mapping. Building up intelligence before striking."

I see Marcus tense at the comparison. "Kane's different. More methodical. More..."

"Personal?" I suggest, unable to help myself.

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the masks slip. I catch a glimpse of something raw, something wounded, before he looks away.

"We should split up," Thalia says, tactfully pretending not to notice the tension between us. "Cover more ground. I'll take the north section, you two take the west. Radio if you find anything."

Before either of us can object, she melts into the shadows, leaving me alone with Marcus and five years of unspoken words.

We walk in silence for a while, checking security markers, looking for signs of intrusion. But with each step, the weight of everything unsaid grows heavier.

"Why did you really come?" Marcus asks finally, his voice rough. "On this sweep?"

"Because I'm tired," I say, surprising myself with the honesty. "Tired of not understanding what's really happening. I’m tired of being confused by you, Marcus; I’m tired of wanting to know. I want to stop wanting.”

It’s all I’ve wanted for a long, long time.

He stops walking, something complicated crossing his face. "Camila..."

"No." I hold up a hand, my heart pounding. "Don't. I’ve heard enough. It hurts, Marcus, to know you don’t trust me and never did. I hate ultimatums. You know that. But… either tell me what really happened five years ago—what Kane has to do with all of this—or don't talk to me at all.”

For a moment, just a moment, I think he might actually tell me. I see something impossible to discern flash across his face and he opens his mouth as if to speak.

But then his radio crackles to life at his hip.

"Marcus." Elena's voice is tight with urgency as it crunches out into the cool air. "We've got confirmed sightings. Kane's forces in Chester Falls."

The news hits like a physical blow. Chester Falls. It’s not far out. I visited with Thalia and my brother once, months ago, shortly after my arrival back in the States, when they were both still recovering from their ordeal. It’s a tiny, quaint shifter town forty miles north of Rosecreek, sitting likewise along the river, its stilted houses strung with fairy lights that glowed like fireflies through the mist. It was a place where the magic of children’s storybooks and fables seemed true.

It’s a place Kane's people are now, getting closer to everything I've finally allowed myself to call home.

Marcus is already moving, authority settling over him like a suit of polished and impenetrable armor. But I catch the way his hands shake slightly, the fear that threads through his body, the immense, impossible history of each of these small moments.

Like taking a picture, I file it all away. I freeze the moments in my head and promise myself I’ll keep trying to make sense of them, even if it kills me.

At this rate, it might.

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