Betrayed Arranged Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #7)

Chapter 1 - Thalia

The first thing I notice about Rosecreek's pack center is the scaffolding.

It climbs the building's eastern wall like a metal skeleton, a stark reminder of whatever violence occurred before I arrived. I’ve heard the rumors. It was hard not to.

Construction workers—all shifters, from their scents—balance on the beams, calling to each other as they repair what looks like blast damage. The morning sun catches on tools and safety helmets, throwing sharp reflections across the parking lot where I've been sitting in my car for the past twenty minutes, trying to work up the courage to go inside.

I grip my steering wheel harder, fingernails biting into the leather. I came here on the promise of a clean job, no strings. Something easy.

As I stare into the ashy stains that tell me that this town was aflame not long ago, nothing about this feels clean.

Through my windshield, I watch another truck full of construction materials pull up to the building. Two men jump out—one older with graying hair, the other young enough to still have acne—and begin unloading sheets of drywall. Their movements have that fluid grace unique to shifters, even doing something as mundane as construction work.

I’m not a rogue, but I’m not exactly not-packless either. I hover in the in-between. Sometimes, on the harder days, I find myself yearning for kinship. It’s a weakness I’ve yet to purge.

"Get it together," I mutter to myself, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. The woman who stares back looks put-together. She’s a professional. Her coily black hair is neatly styled, her makeup subtle but polished, outfit carefully chosen to project competence without trying too hard.

No one would guess that I spent last night dry-heaving in a gas station bathroom, or that my hands haven't stopped shaking since I crossed the Minnesota state line.

A knock on my window nearly sends me through the roof.

"Sorry!" A woman with striking pink hair holds up her hands apologetically, her voice muffled through the glass. "Didn't mean to startle you. You must be Thalia?"

Taking a deep breath, I unlock my car door and step out into Rosecreek’s autumn chill. The crisp air carries a hundred unfamiliar scents—pine needles, lake water, fresh sawdust, old smoke, and beneath it all, the unmistakable musk of wolf shifters. A lot of them. My own wolf paces uneasily, sensing the power concentrated in this place.

"That's me," I manage, willing my heart rate to slow. "I was just about to head in."

"Of course." The woman's knowing smile suggests she's well aware I've been camping in my car. "I'm Olivia. Tech department, among other things." She extends her hand, and everything about her screams 'computer expert,' from her gaming t-shirt to the tablet tucked under her arm.

Her handshake is firm, friendly. I project confidence, coolness. I project the image of a woman who doesn’t need this job.

"Thanks for the welcome," I say, shouldering my bag. "I was staring at the place, starting to think I had the wrong address."

"Nope, this is definitely the pack center." Olivia gestures at the construction. "Sorry about the mess. We're still dealing with the aftermath of some... recent excitement."

"Excitement?" I probe carefully, following her toward the entrance. Up close, I can see that the damage extends deeper than I initially thought—whatever hit this place left scorch marks on the stone foundation.

Olivia's expression darkens. "The Haverwoods. Nasty piece of work—they were running some seriously twisted operations until we shut them down. Unfortunately, they decided to throw a tantrum on their way out. Hence the remodeling."

I've heard all about the Haverwoods, of course, even in my particular circles. Their defeat sent shockwaves through the shifter criminal underworld. A few people I know have been particularly interested in how a relatively small pack like Rosecreek managed to take down such a powerful organization.

"Must have been intense," I comment, trying to keep my tone casual. "I heard they had some serious firepower."

"You have no idea." Olivia stops at the entrance, swiping a keycard on what looks like a shiny new machine. I note the fresh, reinforced glass set into the main doors. "But honestly? The fight itself wasn't the worst part. It's the aftermath we're dealing with now. Their allies and business partners seem like everyone they ever worked with has a sudden interest in little old Rosecreek. That’s why we're hiring new talent." She gives me a significant look. "Speaking of which, fair warning about the team..."

"They have questions," I guess.

"Mountains of them. And they're not all as charming as I am." She winks, but there's something serious beneath her playful tone. "Especially after everything that's happened. Trust is... well, let's just say it's a precious commodity around here lately."

If you only knew, I think. I follow her through the entrance.

Inside, the pack center is a study in contradiction. Modern security tech has been patched across older, more homely-looking decor, the typical fashionings of a ‘normal’ pack center. Sleek new monitors share wall space with photos of smiling strangers, arms around one another’s shoulders. In one, a military squad comprised of faces I don’t recognize beams out, five men and one woman, standing in front of a row of barracks in the woods. The whole place hums with energy—both electrical and supernatural.

A group of young shifters passes us in the lobby, all wearing training gear. They eye me curiously but don't stop. We ascend the stairs and pass an open door, where I glimpse what looks like a high-tech gym. Another doorway reveals a medical bay where a woman in scrubs is bent over, facing away from us as she checks someone's bandages.

"Impressive setup," I say, because it is. The facilities I’m used to back home are more extensive, but they lack this place's sense of... purpose. Community.

"Thanks." Olivia's pride is evident. "We've built something special here. Which is why we're so careful about who we let in." She stops at an elevator, pressing the call button.

"Of course." I plaster on a smile. "I'm an open book."

The elevator doors open onto a conference room where several people are already gathered. My heart rate kicks up again, but I force myself to catalog them systematically, just like I was trained. I was never put through the military ringer like half of these people, but my training was just as formative, I’d be willing to bet, even if it was less… standardized.

A massive man with surprisingly gentle eyes rises from his place around the meeting table as we enter—Bigby Vandenberg, according to my intel. Six-foot-nine of pure muscle, but his body language is relaxed, unthreatening. He’s their second-in-command.

"Welcome to Rosecreek," he rumbles, and something about his deep voice puts me slightly at ease.

Beside him, a younger guy with blue-black hair barely glances up from his laptop—probably another tech specialist. His fingers move across the keyboard with almost supernatural speed. I catch a glimpse of what looks like a security code on his screen before he tilts it away.

"This is Thalia Reyes," Olivia announces. "Our potential new weapons specialist."

"Potential?" A man I don’t recognize from my research grins from his perch on a desk. "Come on, Liv. Aris wouldn't have brought her in if he wasn't serious.” He waves idly in my direction, posture completely relaxed. “I’m Percy. It’s good to meet you, Thalia.”

"Speaking of Aris," a quiet voice cuts in before I can respond. I turn to find another man leaning against the high glass windows behind us, watching me with unreadable eyes. Ado Channing, I guess. "He's running late. Some situation downtown with the reconstruction crew."

"I can start the briefing," Olivia offers, but Ado shakes his head.

"Wait for—" He cuts off, gaze shifting to the door. "Ah. Perfect timing."

The air shifts before I hear footsteps—something in the energy of the room changes, making my skin prickle. The man who walks through the door moves with an easy grace that immediately draws the eye. Dark brown hair falls past his shoulders, half-scraped back into a casual knot, and there's something about his light brown eyes that seems to catch the fluorescent lighting differently than it should.

I know him, I think. He came up in my research a few times. Half-vampire, a newer member of the pack. A mysterious figure.

"Sorry I'm late," Rafael Diaz says, flashing an apologetic grin that transforms his whole face. It occurs to me that he has a brilliantly bright smile. "Byron's new security system locked me out again."

The guy with the laptop—Byron, apparently—snorts without looking up. "User error."

"Always is." Rafael's laugh is warm, infectious. As he passes, he claps Percy on the shoulder, nods to Ado, and smiles at Bigby. When he reaches Olivia, she punches his arm lightly.

"One of these days," she says, "you're going to have to actually learn how the system works instead of just smashing buttons."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Everyone seems completely at ease with him, which somehow makes it worse when those light brown eyes finally land on me.

The instant he looks at me, it’s a physical sensation.

Something electric passes between us. A recognition of predator to predator. My wolf responds instinctively, hackles rising. I see a few things play out across his face sequentially, one after the other. Confusion, recognition, suspicion, and then a faint, deliberate smile.

"Thalia Reyes." His voice is deeper than I expected as he says my name. "You must have driven all night.”

The way he says it—slightly emphasized, slightly questioning—tells me he wants me to know he’s already looked at my references, my application, my background. He knows I’ve driven up from Rockford, four hours on the lonely highway northwest.

I’m not intimidated by it. My paperwork is rock-solid. My references clear any possible checking. I know; I checked them all.

"That's right," I say, meeting his gaze steadily despite the way my pulse quickens. "I heard your pack was looking for someone with my expertise."

“Guess we do.” Just as quickly as his sharp gaze settled upon me, it shifts. He looks away and laughs. “I mean, if even Aris can’t get here on time, we might need a weapons specialist after all.”

An easy laugh ripples around the room. I hover, not sure where to take a seat, still staring at Rafael, though I know it’s not helping me look casual.

Eventually, after a beat, I clear my throat and take a seat beside Olivia at the table, shaking away my awkwardness. “It looks like you’ve all managed alright without one so far.”

Rafael sits silently opposite me. He’s back to staring. I try not to acknowledge his gaze's sharp, unyielding pressure on me.

"Managed?" Percy snorts. "Dude, half our arsenal got torched in the last fight. We're working with scraps. No wonder Aris was desperate to find someone.”

Before I can answer him, the door to the meeting room opens again. The Alpha energy that rolls into the room is almost physical—this must be Aris Cadell. He moves with the easy confidence of someone who knows his own power but doesn't feel the need to prove it, dark beard neatly trimmed, brown eyes sharp but kind.

"Desperate," he agrees, nodding to me in greeting. "And Ms. Reyes comes highly recommended from several trusted sources. Her background checks were... extensive."

"And clean?" Rafael's tone is light, as if teasing. Perhaps I’m imagining the steel under the words.

"Impressively so." Aris settles into a chair at the head of the table. "Please, everyone, sit. We have a lot to discuss."

The next hour passes in a blur of questions from all directions. They're good—very good—at this kind of interrogation. Each person has their own style. Olivia's questions are technical, precise. Byron throws in occasional queries about security protocols that seem random but build on each other. Percy keeps things casual and almost friendly; I suspect he’s here to play ‘good cop.’

Rafael barely speaks, but his eyes never leave me. It's like being watched by a hawk. Every time our gazes meet, that same jolt of... something... passes between us. I can’t describe it.

"Your file mentions you worked with the Virginia City pack down in Nevada," Aris says eventually. "When was that?"

"Two years ago. Upgraded their perimeter defenses."

The lie comes easily—the documentation is thorough.

"Interesting." Aris exchanges a look with Bigby. "We have contacts there. I'm sure they'd vouch for you?"

My heart skips, but I keep my voice steady. "Of course. Though it's been a while, some staff may have changed."

"I'm sure we can track down someone who remembers you." Aris’ tone makes it clear that's exactly what he intends to do.

I force a smile. "I look forward to reconnecting."

"Well," Aris says, shuffling some papers on the desk before him, "I think we've covered the essentials. You start tomorrow—Olivia will show you the ropes and set you up with proper clearance." He pauses, brown eyes serious. "I won't pretend we're not in a precarious position right now, Ms. Reyes. The Haverwoods may be gone, but they left a vacuum that every criminal pack in the region is scrambling to fill."

"And some not in the region," Olivia adds quietly.

"Exactly." Aris leans forward. "We need someone with your expertise. But more than that, we need someone we can trust. I hope you understand why we might be... cautious."

"Of course." I meet his gaze steadily, ignoring the way my stomach twists. "I’d imagine trust is hard to come by these days."

The meeting breaks up gradually. Byron disappears first, laptop propped over his arm, already typing one-handed as he walks, after exchanging a brief kiss with Olivia; she must be his mate. Percy and Ado leave together, discussing something with their heads bowed together. Olivia lingers by the door, clearly waiting to show me to my quarters, but Rafael catches my arm as I start to follow her.

"A word?" His grip is gentle but firm. Professional. But there's something in the way his fingers press against my skin that makes my wolf stir restlessly.

"I'll wait outside," Olivia says, tactfully closing the door behind her.

Aris is still gathering his things, but he pauses, looking between us. Some silent communication passes between him and Rafael before he heads for the door.

"Remember what we discussed," he says quietly to Rafael before leaving.

And then we're alone.

Rafael releases my arm, taking a step back to lean against the conference table. His posture is casual, but there's nothing casual about the way he's watching me.

"You're very qualified," he says finally. “We’re going to be working together. I just wanted you to know.”

He tilts his head, studying me. I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing, just try to keep my head up, my posture confident.

Eventually, I find it within myself to speak. “I’m excited to work with you. I’ve heard a little about you.”

“Have you?”

“All good things.”

Rafael laughs faintly. He stretches lazily. His movements are all so casually graceful, like a cat.

“Welcome to Rosecreek,” he says eventually, and turns to leave.

The words sound like both a welcome and a warning.

Olivia shows me to my quarters, chattering about security protocols and training schedules, but I barely hear her. My mind is spinning with everything that just happened—with Rafael's clear suspicion, my successful passing of the pack’s test, and what comes next.

With the weight of what I'm about to do to these people.

When the door to my room finally closes behind her, I sag against it, letting my careful mask slip. My hands are shaking again.

Maia , I think for the thousandth time, picturing her face. Her smile, her laugh, her terrified eyes the last time I saw her. I'm doing this for you. Just hold on.

But as I unpack my meager belongings, trying to ignore the tremor in my fingers, I wonder if I've already blown it. If Rafael's suspicion will be my undoing before I even begin.

I check my phone—no messages from my handlers yet. They'll want an update soon, want to know what I've learned. Want to know if I've secured my position here.

Outside my window, the construction continues. Build, rebuild, repair what's broken. I press my forehead against the cool glass and wonder if, when this is all over, there will be anything left of me to rebuild at all.