Chapter 18: Mate

Chapter 18: Mate Magnus Alpha Storm, the ruthless leader of the Diamond Claw rogue pack. How many times have I dealt with his antics already? Too many to count. He has never cared for our laws, but this time... I couldn’t simply turn a blind eye. Not when things have taken such an intriguing turn. I have mediated countless conflicts between packs—so many that I have lost track. But this? This is the first time I’m caught between two sides that should be allies. Alpha Damien Windthorne of the Dark Wood pack... What twisted game are you playing? And, more importantly, why is your wife refusing to follow the script? The moment I step into Storm’s pack house, the stench of blood and dirt assaults my senses. If violence had a scent, this would be it. It grows stronger with each visit, yet there is nothing I can do. The King insists on maintaining peace with the rogues, aware that we can’t afford to spark a war. A losing war, as he so often reminds me. I expect little from this savage when I begin our conversation, but the blatant lies he spews while locking eyes with me only confirm what I already know—he is a true psychopath. And then, it happens. I know the door to his office isn’t fully closed—I left it ajar on purpose, suspecting he’d have someone eavesdropping. Sure enough, his dim-witted second-in-command stands guard outside. But there is something else... something sinister that seeps through the narrow gap between the door and its frame. It’s intoxicating—sweet yet powerful—but I can’t quite place it. I want it closer, want it to envelop me completely. And just as that wild thought takes root in my mind, it happens. She walks in. Small. Subdued. Shrinking into herself with every step, as if the mere presence of men makes her wish she could vanish into thin air. Even without looking at her, I can feel it—her hesitation, her quiet struggle to make herself invisible. Then, it hits me. It was her scent. The one I craved just moments ago. She takes another step, and a warm cognac note glides beneath my nose like a silken ribbon. I shake it off, assuming it’s the whiskey Storm promised me, but I am wrong. It’s not just that. Another step. A subtle sweetness drifts into the air—vanilla, rich and smooth, laced with just enough warmth to make my mouth water. Another step, and cinnamon teases my senses, mingling with the faintest trace of sandalwood, igniting something primal within me. Her scent is hypnotic, a delicate whisper against my skin, teasing, tickling, pulling me in. The more I breathe it in, the closer she gets, the dizzier I become. Then—impact akin to a crushing wave. A force slams into my chest so suddenly, so violently, it feels as though a dozen bullets have torn through my heart. I found her. She’s mine. I have finally found my mate. I barely register the whiskey soaking my shoes, don’t care that she spilled it in her hurry. My body jerks as if struck by lightning, but all I can do is stare into those bleak silver eyes—eyes that shatter me into a million pieces. It’s her. She’s my mate. But she shouldn’t be. Not her. But I can’t tear my eyes away from her. My wolf howls inside my head, a relentless chorus of longing and need. I can hear him scratching at me, whimpering and whining, longing to connect––to make her mine––but I resist and order him to back off. Why does it have to be her? She doesn’t belong with me. She shouldn’t be mine. But she is. And I want her. More than anything. She’s mine. But why isn’t she reacting to me, too? Something is wrong, Athan, my wolf, growls at me, and I silently agree with him. I can only see slight bewilderment and confusion in her eyes, but there is nothing else behind them. So what is going on? I stay transfixed on her for as long as I can before Storm kicks her out of the room. Right now, I think it’s better this way. I want this hazy fog to go away. I wasn’t planning on finding my mate when I entered this damned house. I need to stay focused on the matter at hand. But the matter at hand has just made a complete turnaround. The King doesn’t know that I am here. Or rather... Why I am here. And now it’s crystal clear that he should not find out. So I do what I usually don’t––I lie to Storm and threaten him with the things that shouldn’t even bother me. These women were supposed to be dead. But now, I need them alive. I need her alive. I need her next to me, protected at all times, before I figure out why she was supposed to be killed. Storm understands me. He’d be a fool to take my words lightly. Now that I know my mate is within his grasp, I won’t hesitate to rip him apart if he refuses to release her. But I must tread carefully. No one can know. Not yet. So, I feign indifference, resisting the primal urge to claim her. I can’t appear desperate. I can’t raise suspicion. Yet, the moment I step outside and the wind shifts, carrying her scent to me, regret floods my veins. Athan stirs within me, growling with fury, threatening to tear free from my control. We haven’t bonded yet—I haven’t marked her—but somehow, I know. She’s in danger. She needs me. Without hesitation, I return. Storm’s second leads me to his bedroom, and that’s when I lose all sense of reason. The air is thick with the scent of blood, rage, and despair. And beneath it all... something else. An ancient, raw power that crackles in the atmosphere, undeniable and terrifying. Then I see her—naked, broken, sprawled on the cold floor. In that moment, everything clicks into place. She is my mate. But she shouldn’t be. "Alpha Magnus?" Aksel’s voice breaks through my mind via mind link, and only now do I realize that I am already out of the house, though still reluctant to get inside the car. "What?" I sound more gruff than I intend to. "What do you want to do about the rogues?" So many different thoughts rush through my frantic brain, but no matter how hard I try to stay impartial, my mind still reels back to one single conclusion. "Burn everything down." "What? But the King––" "Burn. Everything. Down." My voice mixes with Athan’s as we both teeter on the verge of exploding. I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about anything. I only care about my anger, and both the Lycan King and my subordinates know that leaving me in such a state is going to be a little more complicated than a pack of sadists turned to dust. "Yes, Alpha." Aksel finally submits, and I feel a little better. Too bad she killed Storm. Goddess sees he died a merciful death because I didn’t get to him first.