Chapter 9 - Wyn
I stand outside Oren’s front door like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
The morning desert heat is already building, but that has nothing to do with the sweat beading on my forehead. My hand hovers over the doorbell while I practice explanations that all sound equally insane.
Last night feels like a lifetime ago. Raegan slammed the door in my face after discovering I knew about the supernatural consequences of our marriage. The way her eyes blazed with fury when she realized how much I’d manipulated the situation.
The door opens before I can press the bell. Oren stands there in jeans and a T-shirt, coffee mug in hand, looking like he hasn’t slept.
“Where is she?” No greeting, no pleasantries. Straight to business.
“She’s safe.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He steps aside and gestures me into his house. “Kitchen. Now.”
I follow him through the familiar hallway, past family photos that include shots of Raegan from before she left for Llewelyn. Smiling, carefree, nothing like the furious woman I left in my guest room this morning.
The kitchen smells like coffee and pancakes. A plate sits abandoned on the counter, syrup congealing on half-eaten food.
Oren points to a chair at the breakfast table. “Sit.”
I remain standing. Moving feels like the only way to channel the restless energy that’s been eating at me since I walked away from Raegan’s door.
“When Bastian told me, I didn’t believe it. I had to pull up security footage. The only reason I didn’t come barging into your house last night is that I knew if she was with you, she was safe. But you’re going to explain why the hell you pulled that stunt.”
I hold up my hands in defense of myself. “Before we get into this, you need to know that your sister is married now.”
“Married?” Oren’s voice goes deadly quiet. “To whom?”
“To me.”
The coffee mug hits the counter with enough force to crack the ceramic. Brown liquid splashes across the white tiles, but Oren doesn’t seem to notice.
“Explain. Now.”
“Bastian Corvelli isn’t who he claims to be. He’s a Thornridge operative, and Raegan was in immediate danger.”
“So you married her? Without consulting me? Without telling me what the hell was happening so I could handle the threat?”
“There wasn’t time for proper channels.”
“There’s always time to follow protocol unless you’re operating under the assumption that you know better than your alpha.”
Before I can answer, the front door slams open. Heavy footsteps pound down the hallway, and Bastian appears in the kitchen doorway looking like he’s ready to start a war.
“Where is she?” he demands.
Oren turns his glare on him, and the temperature in the room plummets.
“My sister is no longer your concern,” Oren says, surprising even me. Despite the fact that I operated behind his back, he trusts what I told him about this prick. “As of yesterday evening, she’s married to someone else.”
“Married?” His voice drops to a growl that carries undertones of his wolf. “To whom?”
Oren jerks his chin toward me. “Wyn.”
Bastian’s gaze swings to me, and I see murder in his eyes. Pure, undiluted hatred that makes my own wolf poke his head up and pay attention, like he’s ready to break free.
“You stole my property,” he accuses with a snarl.
The words ignite in the kitchen like a lit fuse. Oren goes perfectly still, the way he does before violence erupts. I’ve seen that particular stillness before, usually right before someone ends up either dead or in the hospital.
“Property?” Oren asks, cocking his head to the side.
But Bastian doesn’t seem to realize what he’s just implied about the alpha’s sister. His focus remains on me, and his rage overrides whatever training taught him to maintain his cover.
“She belongs to me,” he barks out. “Our marriage would give me legal rights over—”
“There isn’t going to be a marriage,” I cut him off. “Our marriage certificate supersedes any previous agreements.”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right. The Blacklock bloodline carries psychic abilities that activate under specific supernatural bonds. The mating bond. And she is my mate. The marriage was necessary to unlock her potential before you could exploit it.”
Oren’s eyes go wide. He knows about the classified briefings on bloodline magic, the intelligence reports about how certain abilities can be weaponized by hostile forces. Information that’s restricted to pack leadership and senior security personnel.
But he had no idea that his sister and I were mates.
Bastian’s face goes white as he realizes how much we actually know. “You know about the activation.”
“We know everything,” I continue. “And just so we’re clear, even if you married her, those powers would’ve remained dormant. You were not her mate, Bastian. Or should I call you Nathan Lineman?”
“The agricultural student identity was well-constructed,” Oren adds. “But it seems my pack’s intelligence networks are more comprehensive than you anticipated.”
Bastian looks between us, probably working out his chances of escape versus the value of whatever information he might extract from this confrontation.
“You think you’ve won something,” he finally comments. “But this changes nothing. I didn’t need her powers to activate. That was never the plan. Besides, Thornridge has been planning for contingencies since before I ever set foot in Llewelyn territory.”
“What kind of contingencies?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
“The kind that don’t require cooperation from the target.” His smile is cold, showing too many teeth. “You activated your wife’s enhanced abilities, which makes her even more valuable, whether she’s willing to help us or not.”
My hands clench into fists, and it takes conscious effort not to cross the room and tear his throat out. All I’m waiting for is one order from my alpha. I’ve acted on my own enough; I’d rather not piss him off even more today.
“Touch her and I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Start a war?” Bastian laughs, but there’s nothing human about the sound.
It’s the kind of laugh that comes from someone who’s already seen too much violence to be intimidated by threats.
“Too late for that, friend. The war started months ago when we identified the Amanzite reserves. Everything since then has just been tactical.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Oren asks.
“Your sister was supposed to be the easy solution—marriage, inheritance rights, a convenient accident that would look completely natural. Since that’s no longer possible, we’ll take what we want the old-fashioned way.”
The way he talks about assassinating Oren and using Raegan makes my vision go red around the edges. Only years of disciplined training keep me from attacking him where he stands.
He turns toward the door, but I’m already moving. My hand closes around his arm just as he reaches the hallway.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Actually, I am.” He spins with surprising speed and drives his elbow into my ribs.
I block the strike and counter with my own, but he’s faster than I expected. Special forces training, probably, before he joined Thornridge. We grapple in the narrow hallway, both vying for position and advantage.
He uses the confined space to force me back with a series of quick strikes that keep me off balance. A knee aimed at my stomach connects with my groin, sending pain shooting through my core.
The impact gives him room to break free, and he bursts through the front entrance and sprints toward a motorcycle parked across the street—clearly his planned escape route in case things went south.
“Oren, get him!” I shout, but Bastian is already starting the engine.
The motorcycle roars to life, and he looks back at us with that same dangerous smile.
“This isn’t over!” he yells over the sound of the engine. “You’ve helped us without even realizing it, my friend. We thank you for that.”
The bike roars away, leaving me standing in Oren’s doorway watching our best source of intelligence disappear down the street in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
“Well,” Oren says from behind me, “that was educational.”
I turn to face him, expecting the full force of his alpha rage. Instead, I see something more complex—anger mixed with understanding, personal betrayal tempered by tactical pragmatism.
“How did you know marrying her would activate those abilities?” he demands.
“I didn’t; not for sure. I knew it was possible. Raegan and I figured out a few years ago that we were mates.” I rush to add, “I haven’t touched her, I swear. I think that’s a big part of why she left. I told her she was wrong when she asked me about it.”
Oren crosses his arms and drags in a long breath. “They were planning to use my sister. He was marrying her just so he could…I’m going to fucking kill that bastard.”
We stand in his doorway, both understanding that we’re dealing with something much larger and more dangerous than a simple territorial dispute. This has been planned on a scale that threatens the stability of the entire region.
“Close the door,” Oren orders. “We need to call the others.”
Back in the kitchen, Oren starts making phone calls while I get a bag of peas from the freezer and press it against my crotch. That little fucker can’t even fight with honor. What kind of wolf knees someone in the balls?
“Dorian’s on his way,” Oren tells me as he hangs up the phone. “Ash is gathering the others.”
“Where is Ash, anyway?”
“Out back, in the garden. She’s been having visions all morning; violent fragments, mostly. Nothing clear enough to act on, but consistent enough to be worrying.”
The front door opens again, and I tense, ready for another confrontation. But it’s not Bastian returning with reinforcements.
It’s Maude Blacklock.
Raegan and Oren’s mother sweeps into the kitchen, looking around like a concerned hen searching for her chicks. Her silver hair is pulled back in a bun, and she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Usually, this woman is wearing a dress, all done up. Something has her rattled.
“Where is she?” she demands, looking between Oren and me with the kind of maternal authority that transcends pack hierarchy.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“I woke up with the worst feeling about my children being in danger. When I couldn’t reach Raegan by phone, I knew something was seriously wrong.
” She settles into a kitchen chair like she’s planning to stay until she gets answers.
“Now, someone explain why my daughter isn’t answering her phone and Wyn looks like he’s been in a fight. ”
Psychic abilities run strong in the Blacklock bloodline, manifesting differently in each generation. Maude’s particular gift has always been sensing when her family needs her, and it often shows up at exactly the right moment to provide support or intervention.
“Raegan is safe,” I tell her, though the words feel inaccurate given what just happened.
“Safe where? And why do I suspect that’s not the complete story?”
Oren and I exchange glances. There’s no diplomatic way to explain this situation without revealing just how fucked up everything is.
“She’s married,” Oren finally tells her.
Maude’s eyebrows rise. “To the young man from Llewelyn? Rather sudden, isn’t it?”
“No. To Wyn.”
She gawks at me, blinking in silence as she clasps her hands together on the table. “I see. And I assume this wasn’t exactly a traditional courtship.”
“He kidnapped her,” Oren adds helpfully.
Maude holds up a finger and scolds, “Oren. Let him explain himself before you pass judgment.”
So I do. I tell them the full story, from the first intelligence reports about Thornridge infiltration to yesterday’s emergency marriage ceremony. Maude listens without interrupting, though her face grows more serious with each revelation.
“The marriage bond activated her psychic abilities,” I conclude. “At least partially. She experienced a vision that showed her exactly what would have happened if she’d gone through with the original wedding.”
“Bloodline magic is unpredictable,” Maude muses. “Sometimes it takes a significant supernatural event to unlock dormant abilities.” She studies my face with the same penetrating gaze her daughter inherited. “The question is whether you fully understood what you were forcing on her.”
“I knew the marriage might trigger her abilities. I know I’m her…” I gulp hard before I add, “mate. I didn’t know how strong they would become or what she would see.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“I did what was necessary to keep her alive and prevent her abilities from being exploited by hostile forces.”
Maude purses her lips and nods. “And now you’ll both live with the consequences of that choice.”
The front door opens again, and the other pack leaders begin arriving for what’s clearly going to be an emergency council session. Dorian enters first, followed by Kira, then Ash, looking pale and shaken from whatever visions have been plaguing her all morning.
“Someone wants to explain why I got an emergency call about terrorist infiltration?” Dorian asks before he plops into a chair.
“Because that’s exactly what we’re dealing with,” Oren replies grimly.
The meeting continues for hours, covering everything we know about Thornridge operations and what we suspect about their next moves. But my attention keeps drifting to thoughts of Raegan, alone in my guest room, coming to terms with abilities she never asked for and consequences she never chose.
The debt between us grows by the hour. I saved her life, but at the cost of her autonomy. I protected her from one threat, only to make her a target of others.
At least this time, she’ll face whatever comes as my partner instead of their victim.
That has to count for something, even if she never forgives me for the choices that brought us here.