Chapter Ten
Protect Her for Me
LIAM O’CONNOR
Desperation pulses through me, amplifying the chaotic rush of my movements as I jerk clothes from my dresser, chucking item after item into the open duffel bag on my bed. The cabin I call home sits enveloped in an eerie silence that unsettles me. Despite residing on the same land as my family, each of us—my brothers and I—has carved our separate spaces from our mother’s house.
My body shakes. The last moment with Gen replays in my mind with brutal clarity. Our kiss. Our goodbye.
She’s my mate. Mine. Not mine.
Dammit.
My wolf whines in the back of my mind, feeling the sting of separation like a raw wound. The pain of leaving Gen promises to be an excruciating lifelong torment. But I have no other choice. I can’t bear to watch her go through this wedding, even if it is for the greater good. And after she’s married and bonded to Aiden—marked by Aiden—the growing connection between us will be severed and all that will be left is pain instead of hope.
She’s my mate. Mine. Not mine.
Hell. I can’t—
A sharp knock at the door startles me.
With a quick zip, I close the bag and shove it under my bed, in case it’s one of my nosy cousins or my mother, who somehow always has a sixth sense for knowing when we’re home. I can’t face anyone right now, not without the risk of my facade crumbling.
The front door creaks open and I hear heavy footsteps. “Liam?” Aiden’s voice calls out through the silence.
Fuck.
Stepping out from the bedroom into the main living area, I keep my voice steady. “Yes, sir.” My heart pounds an erratic rhythm against my rib cage I force to slow. I calm my breathing too. I can’t let him sense anything is wrong.
“I need to talk to you.” The words come out in a low rumble. There’s an undercurrent of urgency in his tone that makes my wolf prickle. Something’s wrong. Does he know I’m trying to leave? Did something happen to Gen?
Stay calm. Breathe.
“Sure,” I reply, trying to infuse casual indifference into my tone.
“I’m concerned for Imogen’s safety.” Aiden hesitates before continuing. “Oliver hit her the night of the engagement party to prove a point to me.” His voice tightens, fists clenching at his sides in a silent promise of retribution.
I’ll fucking kill her dad.
I’m right there with him, aligning me with Aiden’s sentiment. My wolf is ready to fly out the door, hunt down Oliver, and make him pay for touching my mate—no, Aiden’s mate.
She’s my mate. Mine. Not mine.
I keep repeating the mantra, even though it pisses off my wolf more.
“That’s unacceptable,” I say, growling through gritted teeth, struggling to keep my fury leashed. At least now, I don’t have to hide my heartbeat or my erratic breathing.
Aiden nods, his eyes dark with the same fury I carry in my soul. “Her father is a monster, but if this marriage doesn’t happen, Oliver will call in the loan and the pack loses the ranch. If we lose the land we lose the ability to protect Meredith and the court.”
I swallow hard, struggling to keep my emotions from escalating to a level that would make him suspicious that I care more about Gen than I should.
Tipping him off to Gen being my fated mate would make Aiden doubt his actions. He’d look for a way to free Gen of the marriage and that’s an outcome I can’t allow. She and I promised each other to see this through for the good of everyone.
“Whatever you need, just say it.” I inwardly cringe. Please don’t ask me to stay. Please don’t.
Aiden studies me.
A cold shiver of unease slithers down my spine. Does he suspect something?
“I sent Bast and Jackson to Ash Hollow to oversee the construction of the wedding pavilion. I need you to keep an eye on Gen from here on out. I don’t trust the Gallaghers. Until we’re bonded, I want your eyes on her at all times, but I don’t want her to know you’re there.”
My heart freezes, stumbles, and crashes to the floor, while my mind stutters in a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions.
Bonded.
The word slices through me, each syllable a searing reminder of the painful truth. I knew what would happen when Gen and Aiden married. But facing the reality of Gen magickally binding herself to another man creates a storm in my gut.
How am I supposed to watch Gen prepare for a wedding with Aiden? See her walk up the aisle to a man that isn’t me? It’s not possible. I won’t survive it, but I can’t deny Aiden’s request. He’s my alpha—his command is law. The torment of witnessing her marriage will be hell on earth, but it’s a hell I’d gladly endure if it means Gen’s safety.
“Of course. Done.” I say it like it’s nothing. I don’t know how I manage it, but I do.
Tension drops from Aiden’s shoulders immediately. “Thank you, Liam. I knew I could count on you.” He gives me a quick nod and then leaves.
I stand frozen, watching the door close behind him. After a second, I shift my gaze to the window and watch his truck kick up a cloud of dust and disappear from view. Only then, in the enveloping return of silence, do I allow my composure to shatter.
I fall to my knees, a guttural roar clawing its way from the depths of my being, echoing the anguish ripping through me.
Living hell—the phrase is laughable in its inadequacy to describe the torment this next week promises. But walking away isn’t an option, not when my mate’s safety hangs in the balance.
I’ll protect her, no matter the cost, no matter the pain.
A couple hours later, the faint, throbbing sensation of the unfulfilled mate bond pulses like a homing beacon, leading me toward Ash Hollow, then up the mountain, and unerringly to Oliver Gallagher’s fortress-like mansion.
My fingers clench the steering wheel, the worn leather beneath my grip grating against my skin, matching the friction within my soul. Gallagher’s sentries, ever predictable, hold their usual positions. I guide the vehicle onto the old logging road below the house. The pea-sized gravel under the tires assaults the undercarriage like a hailstorm.
I stop the truck in the same alcove Bast and I used days before. Exiting the cab, I strip myself bare, the warm afternoon breeze and sunlight caressing my skin. Yielding to the beckoning call within, I allow my wolf to surge to the surface. The air around me ripples, an ephemeral shimmering illusion, before my form alters and I’m standing on four legs.
My senses sharpen, the world unveiling itself in vibrant, acute clarity as I peer through the primal eyes of my wolf. It’s liberating, grounding me even as turmoil swirls within.
Each measured stride is silent. The sharp scent of pine and earth fills my senses.
Gallagher’s fortress looms in the near distance and the scents of its occupants hit me long before I can see them. Gen. An aching swell of relief and sorrow wars within me at the prospect of seeing her, smelling her, feeling her closeness. It’s an opportunity I thought I’d never have again.
Ensuring I remain downwind of the guards, I hide within the thick underbrush and listen to the low murmur of voices.
Oliver’s is unmistakable. It carries a sinister undercurrent in the otherwise serene symphony of ambient forest sounds. There’s another voice, unfamiliar and cold, that raises my hackles. But it’s Gen’s scent, a sweet, intoxicating fragrance, that has my wolf growling protectively in recognition. My heart lurches when Gen appears on the huge second-floor balcony, a bodyguard looming nearby. Her face is blank, yet the tension in her stance screams volumes.
The mate bond flares, an invisible thread pulling me toward her. My wolf howls inside my head, desperate to rush forward, to protect our mate from the harm she’s anticipating. But I force myself to stay put, to remain hidden. She’s not in danger.
Not yet.
Oliver walks into view, prowling the length of the balcony and back, phone pressed to his ear. He halts abruptly, ends the call, and pivots toward Gen, his face twisted with anger. “You don’t leave this house with Meredith Banfield again. Do you understand me?” His words echo clearly, even from where I’m concealed beneath the fortress’s imposing shadow.
The underlying threat in his venomous tone makes my wolf seethe. Rage courses through me, hot and raw, igniting a savage desire to tear Oliver into shreds. But I don’t give in to the temptation. I stay crouched and quiet and hidden.
Gen doesn’t react to her father’s tirade. In a silent act of defiance, she turns on her heel and walks away without speaking a single word. Brave woman.
Then Oliver pulls a gun from the back of his waistband.
My heart turns to stone, blood turning glacial in my veins. He fires, and for a drawn-out moment, I can’t breathe. No. No. No. But Gen is still standing, unharmed. She turns back to her father, then shifts her gaze to the guard. His hulking form crumples and falls to the ground. I force a silent exhale through my fangs, swallowing the rising snarl in my throat.
“What does that accomplish?” she shouts, not moving, her face an unruly battlefield of emotions struggling to maintain composure. “You killed him, for what?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Then the scent of her tears reaches me, stinging my nostrils and fueling my anger. My claws dig into the earth, my muscles coil, readying me to leap out of hiding.
“Leave again with Meredith Banfield or anyone else and not tell me, and I’ll kill someone you actually give a damn about. Are we clear?” The casual cruelty of Oliver’s threats and his blatant disregard for his daughter’s safety. It’s nearly too much. How can I leave her in that house? I almost break cover again.
“You know, I didn’t want to believe you really had Mr. Darcy’s wife and daughter murdered, but you did. And you don’t feel any guilt over it, do you?”
A ghost of a smirk flits across Oliver’s face that churns my stomach with revulsion.
“You know he came into the office and threatened Matthew and me. Said he’s going to kill me to make you suffer. But I’m sure Matthew already told you.” Gen’s voice rings out, laced with loathing.
Oliver tucks the pistol back into his waistband and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He never should have let you leave this house without checking in with me first. But somehow you waltz out along with Meredith Banfield and he just goes along with it and doesn’t report to me. So he dies because of you or because of Meredith. I don’t tolerate traitors.”
A hollow, bitter laugh erupts from Gen. “That’s what has you upset? The fact that the guard didn’t tell you we were going. It’s not that we went dress shopping for the wedding you arranged, it’s that you weren’t kept in the loop.” She shakes her head, her loose blonde hair glinting like gold under the late afternoon sun. “Here I thought you might be upset that someone threatened my life. Not a chance of that.”
“Oh, dear daughter.” Oliver’s words slither out as he takes slow, deliberate steps toward Gen. His posture radiates menace, and his movements are nothing short of predatory. The threat lingers between them, curling around my chest and constricting. It’s a palpable tension, a live wire sparking with electricity.
My hackles go up and a growl rumbles from my chest. Don’t you touch her. I fight the urge to leap forward. I can’t. Not yet. Not unless the threat becomes reality. Too many fates ride on this alliance and marriage. But the waiting and watching—it’s a slow, torturous burn gnawing at my insides.
“Don’t worry about Darcy. No one hurts you but me,” he grinds out in a low, guttural rumble that sounds more like a lion’s growl than a man’s words. Her face turns a stark, shocking white. “You make sure I’m kept in the loop on everything from now on, no matter what Meredith tells you. Are we clear? Or do I need to beat that rule into you with something more tangible than words?”
“N-no, sir. I will. I promise.” Gen’s terrified submission is a punch to my gut. The taste of her despair is bitter in my mouth. I replay his words in my head. No one hurts you but me. I want to rip Oliver Gallagher’s throat out.
But I don’t.
I stand there and watch.
Gen retreats into her fortress prison, leaving behind the bastard she calls Father. I pull back a few steps into the shadows of the forest, my heart aching with the knowledge that I can’t comfort her. I keep my gaze locked onto Oliver as he saunters away. A seething breath finally tears loose from my lungs. My wolf, a storm of anger and instinct, prowls within me, itching to leap forward and enact vengeance and protect our mate.
Not today. I promise him. Today is not the day for retribution.
I want to find a way into the house, to whisper in her ear that she isn’t alone in this battle. But it’s a promise I can’t keep. Not yet. Possibly, not ever.
All I can do now is vow, to myself and to my wolf, that I will shatter my own soul if that’s what it takes to safeguard hers.