5. Mate My Foot

Taylor's POV

The room caved in, like I’d been shoved underwater without warning. 

My stomach lurched hard, bile clawing up my throat as my heart slammed wildly against my ribs.

No. No, no, no.

The word looped uselessly in my head as my fingers went numb and the edges of my vision blurred.

A broken sound tore out of me.

 Something sacred inside me had just been shattered. I shook badly.

“How long?”

My mouth tasted like metal. I needed to breathe, but I couldn’t seem to.

Clara tilted her head from her new seat in front of Brandon’s table, and smiled. “How long what, darling?”

“How. Long. Have. You. Been. F*ck*ng. My. Mate?” I barely recognized the shaking voice that came from me.

 They laughed loudly together.

She turned to slowly rub her hand down his chest, maintaining eye contact with me and smirking. “How long has it been, baby?”

"Four years,” Brandon answered with a matching smirk.

Four years. My mouth went dry. I blinked hard, because the number did not fit the years I believed. We’d only been mated for two years. I turned my face back to Brandon.

 One corner of Brandon’s mouth lifted. “That’s right. I’ve been f*ck*ng Clara before I ever met you,” he said, eyes flat on me.

 The words left him easily, with no hesitation or change in his expression, like he was telling the time.

My breath stuttered, locking painfully in my chest. I blinked. Then again.

“You never loved me.” My lips moved, my voice barely audible.

 I remembered the way he smiled when we met. The way he looked at me. I remembered the butterflies in my belly. Had it all been a lie?

A slow, knowing smile spread across Clara’s face. “You were always so clueless, Taylor. Didn’t it occur to you that Brandon was way too perfect?"

" Didn’t you find it suspicious that he matched every quality you wanted in a guy? Or that even your first meeting was straight out of one of the fantasies you used to dream about when you were younger? C’mon, think.”

My mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. The words formed in my mind and died on my tongue.

“You… you planned—told him. It was all fake?"

Clara clucked her tongue. “Of course it was,” she said. “You told me your sweet little childhood dreams. I fed them to him—and he finished the job.”

My throat closed as I remembered the words he used to woo me. The pet names, promises, future pictures he drew in my head. Everything he did was everything I had ever dreamed of.

Because she told him.

Dark spots danced around my eyes.

My head snapped back to Brandon again.

“I… loved you.”

“You did, didn't you?.” He laughed and twisted the silver ring on his finger.

“You still do. And that’s what made it easy. I didn’t even have to pursue you, Taylor. You practically threw yourself at me."

“But why? What did I ever do to deserve this from the two of you?” My lips quivered. Hot tears ran down my face.

“Don’t be dramatic, Taylor.” His voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “This is nothing personal. You had something I wanted.”

“What?” I cried hoarsely. “What was it you wanted so badly you couldn’t just ask?”

A numb feeling seeped into me.

I watched them through blurry eyes, no longer feeling or caring.  He'd somehow done what years of constant insults of being wolfless had never done.

He'd shattered my spirit.

“Your father’s pack.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You destroyed my life because of the pack?” I whispered, staring unseeing into the distance.

Brandon sank deeper into his black office chair.

“I loved you, Brandon. I've only ever loved—” My voice broke. “I gave you my virginity. I gave up all I had to love you. And this is how you repay me?”

“What did you even need the pack for? You already rule the third biggest pack in the world.”

My hands fell limp beside me.

Brandon shrugged.

“I want to rule the kingdom,” he said. “All of it. Not just a pack. All of it.”

I swung my head up in disbelief.

“That’s not how it works,” I whispered. “The wolves can’t be under a sovereign rule apart from the Goddess.”

He chuckled darkly, “That’s nonsense. Why does the Goddess get to dictate everything? Why does the old way matter more than what’s possible now?”

Clara patted his hand like he was a child. “He needs the two biggest packs—yours and his father’s—to defeat the council. Getting the pack from his father would be like taking something from a baby. Yours was the hard one,” she continued calmly, “because your father refused to fall for our plans.”

I froze. “Daddy… knew?”

She chuckled. “Nah. He only pushed the mating, thinking it was what you wanted. And because he knew you couldn’t manage the pack alone.”

He warned me never to trust anyone, and I didn’t listen. Now he was dying, and the people I thought I’d have were liars.

“And then he met me,” Clara chuckled and rubbed a path down Brandon’s hands. The sores on my back started to burn.

He leaned back deeper into his seat, lacing his hands together with hers. “Your father was a roadblock. A damned good Alpha. But way too stubborn to see the big picture.”

He watched me, slowly smiling. “So we used you.”

Memories of all that I'd done for Brandon flashed across my mind. The strategies I'd drawn, the alliances I'd handed to him under the guide of pack growth.

Clara hummed.

Chills ran down my spine. Oh Goddess, what had I done?

“I… yo… wh—please…”

Brandon’s expression narrowed. “Why are you crying? I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

I turned from her to him. His tone gave me goosebumps.

I had the sudden urge to run out of the room.

Clara spoke up. “Well, seeing as you know all this now and we can’t let you leave…”

My blood ran cold.

Brandon stood, and the metal of the gun in his hands caught the light.

“Finally.” Clara snickered and rolled her eyes.

“No,” I whispered.

He cocked the weapon slowly, glaring at me. “If there’s one thing I love about soundproof rooms,” he said, “it’s that no noise in here matters to the outside world. No one will hear you scream, Taylor.”

 

I slumped back toward the door, breath ragged. My chest hurt.

“Please,” I begged without thinking. “Please don’t. Don’t—”

“Shut up,” Clara snapped. “You stupid brat."

She snatched the gun from Brandon and pulled the trigger.

“Rot in hell."

I dropped to my knees. Heat spread under my shirt like ink. Air ripped out of me.

She shot again. This time the pain exploded through my chest, and the world tilted sideways.

I tasted metal and fear and a dizzying, terrible calm. The room blurred before my eyes.

Brandon watched, satisfied. “You did well, baby,” he smirked.

Everything I loved spilled out of me—memories, smells, laughter. I was surprised how clean some of the images were. A sunlit kitchen.

My father humming as he carved a roast. The way Brandon once touched my hair like a blessing, and how much I had loved him.

If only I had seen the signs. If only I had listened to my father.

Brandon leaned over me. “You were always too soft.”

I laughed.

Clara whispered, acid dripping from her voice, “You want to say something, princess?”

I managed a crooked smile. “You've underestimated me. Again.”

The look on her face was worth the energy it took to say that. She glared at me and slapped me across the face.

My smile grew wider as I stared off into the distance. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

The last thing I saw was the white ceiling.

******************************************************** 

 My plan had worked exceptionally well.

Like I knew I would, I gasped and opened my eyes, healed and bullet less, six hours later.

The world around me was bright and my mind wasn't the same empty space it used to be. My wolf surged to the front of my eyes.

'Welcome back human, did you sleep well?'

A cold smile spread out on my face. Now to phase 2.

A breathless growl at the corner of the room got my attention. Horror spilled across my mind as my eyes locked on red glowing ones.

No.no. This wasn't the plan.

His mouth opened to say the damning words looping around in my head.

'Mate'

Leaping out an open window by my right, I let myself feel the panic seeping into my blood.

Mate my foot.