Page 18 of Their Mate
A realization surged like a lightning strike through me, dread pooling coldly in my stomach. I’d seen the signs before, studied them. I’d heard the whispers from the shadows.
Wolves only chased this hard, fought this ferociously, when hunting theirmate.
I stumbled over a piece of wreckage, pulse spiking as panic spiraled through my veins.
Impossible. It couldn’t be true.
I was a hunter, trained from youth to protect humanity from the shifter threat. I’d lost my brother—my world—to wolves like these. Becoming their mate was unthinkable.
Yet, the frantic pursuit, the strange electricity that rushed through me every time I glimpsed the dark-haired alpha, thered-haired rogue, or the soldier with the piercing eyes told me otherwise.
My heart clenched painfully, conflict burning within me.
I glanced back again, my stomach tightening with panic. They’d closed the distance significantly, their unrelenting forms surging forward, determined eyes gleaming beneath the pale moonlight. I recognized them clearly now—the massive black wolf at the center, Logan Yorke; the sandy-furred one beside him, Jamie; and the sleek, black-furred wolf with a white patch on his chest and steely eyes, the soldier, Edward.
My pulse thundered wildly as I pushed forward, but my fatigue was deepening, my body beginning to falter despite my desperate will to keep going.
They drew inexorably closer, their movements perfectly coordinated. They moved like a unit, herding me subtly toward narrower streets, toward isolation, into their control.
Fear mingled with primal terror deep inside me, heat coiling uncomfortably low in my stomach. The fierce possessiveness burning in their gazes, the intensity of their pursuit…
They’d recognized their mate.
Me.
My vision blurred, terror tightening my chest. I had to escape, had to run harder, faster. Mate or not, I couldn’t allow them to catch and claim me.
I leaped nimbly over a rusted gate, landing roughly and stumbling slightly before regaining my footing. Every muscle trembled violently with exhaustion, heart racing, lungs heaving painfully.
“Not like this,” I whispered raggedly to myself, desperate and driven. “Not now.”
Even as I spoke, though, I knew deep down I was losing ground. The wolves were too close, too powerful. They’d hunt me until they caught me, no matter how far I ran.
The narrow street ahead suddenly widened into a shadowy dead end, brick walls looming starkly around me. Terror spiked violently through my veins as I realized I’d played straight into their hands, herded exactly where they wanted.
I skidded sharply to a halt, chest heaving painfully, pulse hammering wildly, turning slowly to face the wolves that were closing in. They slowed, shifting seamlessly into human form as they stepped forward from the shadows, eyes glittering beneath the moonlight.
The three of them were naked, their cocks stiff between their thighs as they stalked toward me.
Logan stepped toward me first, his dark gaze blazing with intensity, possessiveness, and resolve so fierce my breath caught roughly in my throat. I’d studied him thoroughly before ever stepping foot into Dublin, memorized every detail of his file, every trait and weakness I could exploit.
The red-haired one flanked him, his bright blue eyes glittering with interest: Jamie Buchanan, the skilled mercenary who’d made a living extracting wolves from dangerous zones. My intel on him was meticulous; he was agile, fast, resourceful, and dangerously unpredictable.
And beside them, Edward Fairchild stood poised, the elite British operative tasked originally with delivering Logan to this godforsaken place. Military to the bone, disciplined, cunning,trained to kill swiftly and silently. He was perhaps the most dangerous, with his cold eyes and unbreakable control.
I knew all their names, their histories, their strengths, and their weaknesses, because it was my mission to know them, to track them, neutralize the threat they represented, and eliminate them if necessary.
Now, seeing them standing here, surrounding me in this darkened dead-end alley, my breath faltered. I’d trained and prepared meticulously for every scenario.
Every scenario except this one.
Logan moved slowly toward me, every powerful step radiating authority. His voice emerged low, rough, commanding.
“Enough running, little mate. We’ve chased you far enough.”
I raised my chin defiantly, masking the wild pounding of my heart. “I’m no one’smate,” I sneered. “Least of all yours.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed, his voice cold yet strangely compelling. “Deny it all you want, but you know the truth.”
