Interrupted

Second Day

Being Marcus’s bodyguard was nothing like I’d planned. 

Correction—this wasn’t even bodyguarding. This was glorified babysitting!

I followed him through the halls of the Eldridge compound like a silent shadow, watching him wave at everyone like he was on a parade float. One hand always held a drink—smoothie, iced coffee, bubble tea—you name it. The other was usually pointing at something irrelevant while he cracked jokes no one asked for.

This wasn’t the mission.

I was supposed to be gathering intel. Earning Sebastian’s trust. Getting close enough to finish what I came here to do.

But no.

I was stuck with his brother's overgrown puppy!

One whole day—wasted. And now it’s day two, and I already feel like I’ve lost control of the timeline I set.

One week, get in, kill Carlos’s son, and get out. Clean. Quiet. Efficient.

Now…?

In my dreams.

Literally. Last night I had a dream I snapped Marcus’s neck with one hand and went right back to sleep like it was the most peaceful night of my life.

In another version, I drowned him in one of his ridiculous smoothies. He thanked me for the flavor on the way out.

I sighed, shaking the fantasy from my head before I got too creative. Again.

No matter how many mental murder scenarios I acted out, the reality remained: Marcus was alive, humming off-key as he walked ahead of me like this was a field trip.

“Are you always this quiet?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“No,” I said flatly.

He waited, hoping for more. I gave him nothing.

Marcus let out a thoughtful hum. “You must be a joy at parties.”

I gave him a long, blank look. “I don’t go to parties.”

He grinned. “Shocking.”

And just like that, I added a new dream sequence to the collection: death by falling bookshelf. His own words written on his tombstone—“I want her.”

—

Marcus was still sleeping.

Blessed silence.

I stood outside his room for five minutes just to make sure he wasn’t faking it. I could hear soft breathing and the occasional mutter—something about "unicorn smoothies" and "pillow betrayal." Definitely asleep.

Perfect.

I slipped away without a sound and made my way down the hall. I hadn’t had a second to breathe, let alone think, since this circus started. And if I wanted to salvage this disaster of a mission, I needed information—real, useful information. The kind I wouldn’t get listening to Marcus complain about “vibes” and wardrobe colors.

The warriors’ lounge was easy enough to find. I followed the scent of food and the faint clatter of cutlery. Inside, a few warriors sat scattered at the long table, plates piled with eggs, meat, toast. Low chatter filled the room.

Until I walked in.

Forks paused mid-air. A few heads turned. Conversations stopped.

Great.

I kept my face neutral and headed to the food station like I didn’t notice the tension crackling in the air. I grabbed a plate, served myself just enough to not look suspicious, and sat down at the edge of the long table.

No one spoke.

I chewed slowly, letting the silence stretch. I could feel their eyes on me—curious, guarded, maybe even a little wary. Rogues didn’t just get assigned to high-level positions here. Especially not ones shadowing Marcus Eldridge.

One of the wolves across from me finally broke the silence.

“You’re the one assigned to Marcus?”

I nodded. “Unfortunately.”

That got a few snorts. One of them, a broad-shouldered guy with a scar down his neck, leaned forward slightly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… why you?”

I met his eyes. “I passed the test.”

“Yeah, we heard. Dropped Kray in less than a minute.” He nodded with grudging respect. “Not bad.”

Another warrior muttered, “She’s still rogue, though.”

I didn’t flinch. “So?”

Silence again. This time, more thoughtful than suspicious.

Damn it. I’m really so dumb when it comes to socializing.

I tried to ease the tension, forcing the smallest smile. “I mean… not all rogues are bad. I’m living proof of it.”

No one laughed.

I cleared my throat. “I’m Raine, by the way.”

Still nothing.

A fork clinked. Someone coughed. And just like that, they went right back to their breakfast like I hadn’t said a damn thing.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Wow. Warm welcome.

I was about to finish my food and disappear back into whatever hell Marcus had planned for the day when I noticed someone walking toward me from the far end of the table.

A tall, lean warrior with a wolfish smirk and a cocky kind of confidence settled across from me like he’d been invited.

He extended a hand.

“Axel,” he said. “Third unit, border patrol. You really dropped Kray in under a minute?”

I took his hand, firm shaking. “Less than.”

He let out a low whistle. “Guy talks too much anyway. That must’ve been nice.”

I gave a small shrug. “It was... therapeutic.”

His grin widened. “I like you already.”

I narrowed my eyes, not fully trusting the sudden friendliness. Charming wolves always had teeth—they just smiled before they bit.

Before I could say anything, a bell rang sharply through the corridor.

A few warriors groaned in unison, and I caught one muttering under his breath, “Ugh. Weekly assessment again.”

I tilted my head. “Assessment?”

Axel groaned too, slumping forward like he’d been sentenced. “Yeah. Weekly physical evaluation. Sparring rounds, form drills, strength tests, the works. Just for warriors, though. Bodyguards get a pass.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because we’re the ones who might die on the border,” he said casually, taking another bite of his food. “You guys just keep rich wolves from choking on grapes.”

I rolled my eyes. Marcus. 

But then I heard something that froze my spine mid-thought.

“Alpha Sebastian’s observing today,” someone muttered from a nearby table.

I stood immediately.

Axel raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering to die too?”

I didn’t answer. I was already moving, quiet and fast, slipping in with the crowd of warriors heading out the back doors. I stayed near the rear—unobtrusive but alert—until we reached the training grounds.

There he was.

Sebastian stood on the upper level of the training deck, arms crossed behind his back, flanked by two betas. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just watched.

Calculating. Controlled. Detached.

Perfect.

Axel slid beside me and whistled low under his breath. “Just what I thought.”

I ignored him.

I didn’t come here for small talk—I came here for blood.

And now, I am one step closer.

Five fights had passed.

The crowd was getting louder. Warriors clashed and grunted across the dirt, blood staining the sand, but my attention never wavered—not even once.

I wasn’t watching them.

I was watching him.

Sebastian stood still, arms folded behind his back like some immovable shadow on the high platform. Not a single twitch of emotion passed across his face. He didn’t flinch when someone got slammed into the ground. He didn’t blink when a warrior roared mid-shift.

Just like Carlos.

The memory clawed its way back into my mind—uninvited, sharp.

Carlos had stood just like that when I first saw him again, back when the blood of my family still clung to the floor of our destroyed packhouse. Calm. Composed. Like everything he’d done was justified.

And Bethany, always at his side, perfectly painted and just as ruthless behind her eyes.

They smiled when my father died. When my brother bled. They smiled when I begged for the truth.

I gritted my teeth, nails digging into my palm.

Now Sebastian stood there—same posture, same aura, same blood running through his veins.

But unlike Carlos… he was quiet.

Still.

Too still.

What are you hiding behind those eyes, Sebastian?

Do you really know who you are? Where did you come from?

A whistle blew. Another match ended. More cheering. I barely noticed.

Because the only thing I saw was gray eyes and a legacy that needed to burn.

The next warrior stepped forward, full of swagger and smirking like he already won.

“I pick her,” he said, pointing directly at me.

The room shifted. Conversations stopped. Every set of eyes turned my way, including his.

Sebastian.

His brows furrowed—just a flicker of confusion crossing that perfectly unreadable expression. It was the most reaction I’d seen from him since this whole thing started.

Beside him, his Beta stepped forward, voice clear but firm. “She’s not a warrior. She’s a bodyguard—assigned to Alpha Marcus. She’s not eligible for assessment.”

A few murmurs rippled through the onlookers. Some surprised. Some amused. Others… disappointed.

The arrogant warrior scoffed. “She’s here, isn’t she? She passed the trials. That means she can fight.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just kept my expression neutral.

Inside, I was calculating. Fast.

I didn’t want this attention. Not yet.

But refusing might make me look like a coward—or worse, unworthy of being near an Alpha.

Sebastian was still watching. I felt the weight of his gaze pressing into my skin like cold steel.

I could fight. End it in under a minute like I did before.

But that would mean showing more than I wanted to.

Still, something about that warrior’s smug grin made my jaw tighten.

I could already see the outcome in my head: him laid flat, eyes wide, choking on his own surprise.

I wouldn’t even need to shift.

But for now… I waited. I needed permission.

Let them decide what kind of rogue I am.

Sebastian said nothing at first.

Just stood there, quiet, still, watching me.

Then slowly—he turned to the warrior. “If she’s willing, I’ll allow it.”

His voice was cool. Measured. But there was weight behind it. A test hidden under protocol.

Our eyes met across the floor. 

My pulse jumped.

That shade—haunting, familiar, damning. Carlos’s eyes. Bethany’s bloodline. The ghost of everyone I lost.

It dried my throat. The thirst for revenge burned like smoke in my lungs.

Sebastian’s gaze didn’t falter. He wasn’t challenging me. Just watching. Waiting. And I realized… this was the closest I’d been to him since the office.

This was a gift. A chance.

I gave a small nod. “I’m willing.”

A few surprised mutters broke out behind me. The cocky warrior grinned like a fool, already celebrating in his head.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t blink.

I simply stepped forward, my boots silent against the floor.

This was about control. About discipline.

About not giving in to the temptation of sinking my claws into Sebastian's throat right here, right now.

I stepped into the circle, already calculating angles, weak points, distractions.

The warrior across from me bounced on his heels, practically buzzing with overconfidence. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

The referee raised a hand.

But before the fight could begin—

A voice rang out behind the crowd, bright and loud as ever.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Time out!”

The sea of warriors parted without hesitation.

Of course they did.

Marcus strolled in like he was walking onto a red carpet, holding a paper cup and wearing sleep still half in his eyes. His hoodie was wrinkled. His hair looked like it had lost a fight with his pillow.

“I was just sleeping and my bodyguard’s already picking fights?!”

He stopped beside the circle, sipping his drink.

“She’s not a warrior. She’s my bodyguard.”

Some of the younger wolves exchanged glances, unsure what to do.

“She’s not fighting,” Marcus added, pointing at me like he was defending a personal snack from being stolen. “She’s under contract. Her job is to keep me alive, not impress your little testosterone pit.”

The cocky warrior huffed. “She agreed.”

“I don’t care if she agreed to wrestle the Moon Goddess herself. She reports to me, and I say no.”

The referee looked toward Sebastian for direction.

Sebastian stood at the far end, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. He didn’t say anything—just glanced between Marcus and me.

I stayed still, jaw tight.

Great.

Day two, and my babysitting duties were already getting in the way of perfectly good violence!

Marcus glanced at me, then turned to the crowd. “Let’s not pretend I don’t need 24/7 protection. I trip on air.”

A few chuckles rippled through the warriors. Some rolled their eyes.

I exhaled slowly through my nose.

He was ruining everything! Again!

And the worst part?

I couldn’t even punch him for it!