The Mountains
Skyla
Nervous, I shift in my seat, watching trees blur past outside the window—tall, black silhouettes pressed against the night sky. There’s no sign of a town. No gas station. No lights. Nothing but wilderness.
It also doesn’t help that it’s almost midnight.
Even if there was something out here, what could possibly be open now?
I hate that I don’t know where we’re going.
I want to believe Brayden is taking me somewhere for the two of us to reconnect. Maybe he wants to talk privately. Maybe this is what mates do when things get hard. But deep down I can feel that this isn’t a drive to clear our heads.
Brayden’s phone buzzes on the dash. I startle at the sound, pulse spiking as Martin’s name flashes across the screen.
Again.
He’s called and texted at least a dozen times in the past hour, and Brayden has ignored every single one. He doesn’t even glance at the screen.
It’s not like him.
Brayden always stays in contact with the pack. He needs to be in control. Always watching, always aware. That’s who he is.
Or at least, that’s who he was before I broke him.
“Get that look off your face,” Brayden says suddenly, his voice deep in the otherwise quiet truck.
I quickly lift the corners of my mouth, not realizing that I had been frowning. “Where are we going?” I ask softly, hoping my question doesn’t upset him too much.
Brayden’s phone buzzes again, and Martin’s name flashes on the screen. “Give it a fucking rest, Martin,” he snarls as he grabs his cell. His knuckles go white as he mashes the side button, silencing the phone before tossing it into the cup holder.
I press myself a little closer to the door, pushing my shoulder against the cool window.
Then something shifts in Brayden’s posture.
His spine straightens and his shoulders drop slightly as his hard expression eases.
I follow his gaze and see an old, sagging building off the side of the road.
It leans to one side like it’s on the verge of collapsing.
As we roll closer, I see rust streaking down from shattered windows. One side of the roof has caved in.
Brayden exhales—clearly relieved.
Then, without a word, he turns the truck off the road and onto the dirt path leading around the back of the building. The tires crunch over gravel, the suspension groaning with every dip in the uneven ground.
And then we stop.
An SUV is parked behind the building, angled slightly, like whoever drove it wasn’t planning to stay long. The headlights are on, glaring across the clearing in two sharp beams that slice through the dark. I lift a hand to shield my eyes, blinking.
Then I see it.
Movement.
A shadow breaks from the light. Two figures—blurry at first—stand beyond the beams, backlit and silhouetted. I squint harder, trying to make them out. One of them is tall, standing with arms crossed. The other… shorter. Leaning toward him. Talking, maybe?
I squint harder, trying to figure out who they are, but the light distorts everything.
My throat goes dry. “Alpha?” I whisper. “Who are they?”
Brayden doesn’t answer. His fingers flex against the steering wheel as he leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing. His jaw clenches so hard the muscle ticks beneath his skin.
Something dark twists low in my stomach.
I don’t know why, but my instincts are screaming. Run! Run now.
I reach for the door handle—but stop myself. “Brayden,” I say, louder this time. “What are we doing here?”
He still doesn’t look at me.
“Stay in the truck,” he says, voice flat as he opens the door and steps out.
The door slams behind him, the sound sharp like a gunshot. I flinch and press my fingers to my lips, watching him walk into the light.
He moves like he always does—controlled, confident—but there’s a tightness in his shoulders I’ve never seen before. Is he nervous?
The two men turn. The tall one steps forward. Even from here, I can tell he’s an alpha. Everything about him says power. Control. The other stays back, arms folded, face unreadable.
They speak too quietly for me to hear. I catch a flash of teeth—one of them is smiling. But Brayden isn’t. His hands stay at his sides, fists clenched. He says something, and the tall one glances past him.
At me.
I feel exposed. Like I’ve been dragged into a spotlight.
My chest constricts. I scan the building, the trees, and the path behind us. Looking for a way out. Looking for anywhere to run. But there’s nowhere to go.
Brayden turns, walking back to the truck.
My heart stutters.
What do I do?
Before I can decide, the passenger door whips open and I rear back.
“Get out,” Brayden commands me. I don't think—my hand moves on instinct to release the seatbelt.
“What’s happening?” I force the words from my mouth. “Please, tell me who they are.”
His eyes flick toward the men, then back to me. There's something in his expression I don’t understand—something remote. Regret, maybe. Or shame. Definitely rage. But then it’s gone before I can place it.
“You’re going with them,” Brayden says, flat and final, as panic slams into me like a wave.
“What?”
“You’re fucking broken, Skyla.” He reaches for my wrist, but I scramble back, not stopping until the center console digs hard into my spine. “Stop it!”
His word hits like a strike—sharp, deep, threaded with alpha authority. My body goes rigid before I can think, every muscle seizing under the weight of it. I can’t move. Can’t breathe right. My body obeys even as my mind thrashes against it, screaming to fight and run.
“I can’t fucking do this anymore.” Brayden grips my upper arm, dragging my useless body toward him. “It’s over.”
Tears sting my eyes. My throat feels raw, voice barely a whisper. “No… please.” The words shake as they leave me. “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t reject me.”
“I’m not rejecting you.” His jaw tightens as he leans in, his fangs inches from my face.
“You did this to us. You refused to bond with me.” His voice drops, rough and trembling with anger.
“I did everything right. I attended all the academy’s parties.
I paid extra for the goddamn scent-matching tests. I even met your fucking parents.”
My heart sinks as I think of my family. I haven't spoken to them since Braydon claimed me. He’s even refused to let me talk to them on the phone.
Punishment for being such a bad omega.
“Please,” I whisper, then glance out the windshield at the two men waiting in the dark. My whole body starts to shake. “Don’t do this. I’ll do better. I’ll be a good omega. I’ll—”
“What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, Skyla?
” His voice rises. “I have punctured your scent glands a dozen times.” His hand flies out to the mangled bite in my neck.
His fingers jab the raw flesh, and I cry out, twisting away.
“You’re not even a fucking omega,” he snarls.
“No heat. No bond.” His voice drops to a whisper, “I can’t even get hard with you anymore. ”
A sob breaks out of me.
He’s right.
The first time he bit me, he was able to knot me.
It was excruciating being knotted the first time outside of my heat, but my body learned to take it, little by little.
But as time went on, something changed, and his shaft stopped inflating.
Even during my first heat with him, he couldn’t fully knot me.
And now…now he goes soft just looking at me.
“Puh-please,” I choke on my tears, “Maybe… maybe it’s because I wasn’t in heat when you first—”
Brayden’s wide hand slaps across my tear-streaked cheek. The sting blooms instantly. I barely have time to cry out before he’s got a fist tangled in my hair, yanking.
“Are you blaming me for not waiting?” he roars.
“No!” I gasp, dizzy now. My scalp burns and my thoughts are a muddled mess. “I didn’t mean—”
“I wanted to make you ours,” he spits. “I wanted to bring you into the pack. To make it official.”
“I know,” I whisper, tears sliding freely down my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“I waited six fucking months for your first heat. Six.” His voice is lower now. Dangerous. “I tried. Did you expect me to wait forever?”
I try to shake my head, but he doesn’t let me move. My scalp screams under his grip.
“Get up,” Brayden snaps, jerking me by the hair. My body stumbles after him, my bare feet scrape against the gritty dirt, the chill biting up through my soles. Wind slaps my face, making the wet skin sting.
Then he leans in close. His breath is hot. His eyes are filled with hate. “If you say anything about our bond not taking,” he growls, “I’ll kill you.”
My mind blanks.
I go cold all over—numb, like I’ve been dropped into icy water.
“Let’s see her,” the shorter man says, stepping closer. His voice is low and bored, like he’s inspecting livestock.
Brayden’s grip shifts, grabbing the collar of my coat and wrenching it off my shoulders. The fabric catches for a heartbeat, then gives, leaving me exposed in nothing but a thin tank top. The mountain air bites instantly through my thin tank top, sinking all the way down to my bones.
The taller alpha leans against the SUV, arms crossed, shadowed by the glare. His presence radiates authority, even without words—I can feel it pressing against my skin, heavy and assessing.
“She’ll need a shot,” the shorter man mutters, and the taller alpha pushes off the vehicle with the slow confidence of someone who knows he doesn’t need to rush.
“P-please,” I stammer as Brayden shoves me forward. “Don’t do th—”
He tightens his hold on my neck, cutting the words off in my throat. My breath stutters, the air burning as it goes in.
“Tip your head up,” the shorter man says as he approaches.
He’s massive—shoulders like concrete, thick arms that strain against his coat.
His face is all flat planes and narrow eyes.
Even in the dark, I catch a flicker of light in them.
They’re stony and distant. The wind shifts, and I get a full inhale of his scent.
He’s a beta.
But he doesn’t smell calm or neutral. There’s a bitter edge to him, something sharp and wrong.
“She’s bleeding,” the beta says flatly, eyeing my neck. His gaze flicks to Brayden.
“I was told it wouldn’t matter if she was injured,” Brayden says like he’s apologizing for a scratch on a car he’s trying to sell. I wish I could hate him right now, but I’m too shocked.
How is this happening?
“Yeah.” The beta frowns, his expression twisting into something impatient. Like this is just one more inconvenience in his night. “Has she given birth before?”
“No kids,” Brayden answers before I can speak. I try to turn and look at my pack alpha, but he stays at my back like a coward. Hiding behind me. Letting this happen. “She’s pretty obedient in the bedroom. You can do whatever you want to her as long as there's a cock in her cunt.”
The beta nods, like he’s happy to hear that. “She’s a little bottom-heavy,” he says, mostly to himself. “Big thighs.” His hands are on my hips. He grips my flesh, squeezing me hard.
Disgust and fear roll in my gut, and I’m suddenly hit with the urge to gag. “Bray.” My voice is a high-pitched whine, but no one pays me any attention. They’re too busy assessing me.
“Trim waist.” Rough hands touch my middle.
“Her tits are small,” Brayden adds casually, “but her ass makes up for it, even if she is a little fat.”
The beta’s hand slides around me and grips one cheek hard, his fingers digging into me.
I jerk away violently, tears streaking down my face. “Stop!” My panic bubbles over. “Brayden!” I scream for my alpha. For the man who swore to love and protect me forever. “Help me! Don’t—”
Pain stabs through my upper arm.
I gasp and look down.
The unknown alpha is right beside me now, silent and close. I never even saw him move.
He touches the syringe jutting from my bicep, pressing the plunger slowly, almost gently. Then he slides the needle free.
“You’ll feel better in a second,” he says, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
And he’s right.
A second later, I stagger, my head already swimming. The lights blur and the ground tilts as my legs fold beneath me. I’m vaguely aware of arms catching me. Rough hands. I’m lifted.
“We done?” Brayden’s voice is distant—muffled, like it’s coming from underwater.
I roll my head to one side, in time to see the beta hand Brayden a thick envelope. The beta says something, but my mind can’t make sense of his words. Then I’m moving.
The unknown alpha carries me away from the burning lights and into the dark. I’m jostled, and there’s a faint click. Then I’m dropped—my body hitting the rough carpet in the back of the SUV. My fingers brush over the itchy fabric, curling slowly into weak fists.
I suck in a breath and try to push myself up, but the blackness closes in.
My arms give out. My nose smacks something hard.
Pain flashes—sharp, bright.
Then nothing.