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بيت / Werewolf / I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate / Chapter Nineteen

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Chapter Nineteen

مؤلف: Bella J
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-04-20 12:20:50

AUTHOR'S POV.

The sprawling, opulent office of Alpha Magnus Draven was completely silent, save for the rhythmic, steady ticking of the antique grandfather clock standing in the corner.

Alpha Magnus stood near the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, staring coldly down at the glittering, sprawling city of Junylria that operated entirely under his ruthless command. He did not turn around when the heavy oak doors opened and Beta Ronan stepped quietly into the office.

"I trust you bring me useful in
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  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Eighty Four

    EMBERLY Glass exploded across the wet asphalt, glittering under the flickering orange hazard lights. Rain poured through the crumpled roof of the stolen ambulance, soaking my torn medical scrubs in seconds. Blood pooled beneath my boots, mixing with the muddy deluge flooding the highway. My chest heaved.Kicking the dented side door, I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain shooting up my leg. The metal groaned but held fast.Jordan’s massive fingers clamped around my wrist. Heat radiated from his palm, burning against my shivering, rain-slicked skin."Stay down." He coughed, spitting a glob of dark blood onto the dashboard.Heavy boots splashed through the deep puddles outside. Dozens of them. Rifle bolts clacked into place, the metallic snaps cutting cleanly through the rhythmic drumming of the tropical downpour.Static whined. A booming, amplified voice echoed through the storm."Well, well. Look at the mess you two made."Garrett Butler.Dread compressed my ribs, squeezing the

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Eighty Three

    EMBERLYWind violently tore at my hair, feeling like thousands of frozen needles driving directly into my scalp.Burying my face against the heavy leather of Jordan’s jacket, I squeezed my arms around his waist. The stolen motorcycle vibrated aggressively between my thighs. Freezing rain pelted my back, soaking completely through my winter coat. My injured right arm throbbed with a dull, sickening ache, the fresh stitches pulling painfully with every sharp swerve."Hold on!" Jordan roared over the screaming engine.Leaning hard to the left, the motorcycle scraped the wet asphalt. Sparks showered from the metal footpegs.Peeking over his broad shoulder, I saw it.A massive, boxy medical transport ambulance rumbled down the center of the desolate mountain highway just fifty yards ahead. The back windows were entirely blacked out. No emergency lights flashed. It looked like a mobile tomb navigating the dark gorge."That's it!" I shouted, the wind instantly snatching the words from my mou

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Eighty Two

    EMBERLYGlass crunched under the heavy tread of Jordan’s combat boot. Stepping away from the shattered smartphone, he stared blankly at the dark hardwood floor of the safehouse. "Jordan, look at me," I demanded.He didn't move. His shoulders remained rigidly locked, the heavy leather of his jacket squeaking as his hands balled into massive fists. The raw, territorial scent of cedar radiating from him suddenly turned sour, spiking heavily with sheer panic."They moved her," he repeated, his voice dropping into a hollow, vibrating whisper. "Route 9. Eastern Hospice.""We can still leave," I urged, grabbing the two forged Canadian passports from the granite kitchen counter. Shoving the black booklets directly into his chest, I forced him to acknowledge me. "You have the cash. You have the vehicle. We are ten minutes away from slipping the perimeter entirely."Swatting the passports out of my hand, Jordan turned his pitch-black eyes toward me. The little black books hit the floor, slidin

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Eighty One

    JORDANThe heavy bass vibrated directly through the concrete floor, rattling my molars.Neon green lasers sliced through the thick, muggy darkness of the underground basement. Hundreds of sweating, half-shifted wolves ground against each other on the packed dance floor. The air in the industrial sector club tasted like cheap vodka, stale ozone, and raw pheromones. My jaw locked tight. Pushing through the writhing crowd, I kept my hands out, shoving aggressive shoulders aside.Get the forged passports. Get back to the safehouse. Get Amberly out of the state before midnight. That was the only objective keeping my blood from boiling over.Ducking under a low-hanging ventilation duct, I reached the VIP booths lining the far brick wall.Jax sat alone in the corner booth. He nervously tapped a silver lighter against the scratched wooden table. A lit cigarette hung from his lower lip. He wore a heavy leather jacket, his eyes darting frantically across the crowded club. He smelled of sour pan

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Eighty

    JORDANStanding up, I moved quickly to the mirrored cabinet above the sink. Pulling out a heavy black tactical medical kit, I grabbed a bottle of surgical antiseptic, a curved suture needle, and a spool of medical silk.Sitting back down on the tiles, I uncapped the antiseptic."This is going to burn," I warned, locking my eyes onto hers."Do it," she whispered, gripping the edge of the bathtub with her uninjured hand.Pouring the clear liquid directly over the open wound, the chemicals hissed against her torn flesh. Amberly bit down hard on her lower lip, stifling a scream. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, tracking through the dirt and rainwater smeared across her cheeks.Grabbing the sterile needle, I threaded the silk with practiced precision."Look at me," I commanded softly, tapping her chin to draw her focus away from the bleeding arm.Her dark, terrified eyes met mine.Driving the needle through the edge of her skin, I pulled the thick thread tight. She whimpered, her

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Seventy Nine

    AUTHOR'S POVKicking the splintered apartment door open, Garrett stepped over the ruined deadbolt. Sterile bleach and industrial floor cleaner assaulted his nostrils. His primary goal of ambushing the Lynne girl inside Jordan’s campus housing evaporated into the freezing, damp air. Empty coat hangers rattled inside the open closet. Starving, operating without pack funds, and running entirely out of time, Garrett tightened his grip on the silver-laced combat knife."The place is completely scrubbed," Briggs muttered, coughing into his fist.Heavy, wet combat boots tracked mud across the pristine hardwood floor. Briggs and Cole, the last two surviving mercenaries on Garrett’s payroll, stepped into the empty living room. Freezing rain pounded against the large campus windows, matching the bitter, foul mood suffocating the squad.Pacing toward the bedroom, Garrett scanned the bare mattress. No clothes. No burner phones. No lingering scent of female Omega. Jordan had purged the location ho

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Forty Nine

    AUTHOR’S POV.The heavy, armored tires of the Packhouse transport vehicle hummed a low, monotonous rhythm against the wet asphalt as Jordan rode in the spacious back seat, his mind still numb from the tedious diplomatic maneuvering of the Tri-Pack treaty. The sudden, violent vibration of his encryp

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Forty Seven

    JORDANThe oppressive, suffocating heat of five hundred pureblood werewolves packing into the grand ballroom of the central estate created a physical wall of thick, unbreathable air that smelled heavily of expensive designer colognes masking the sharp, metallic tang of raw predatory dominance. Hun

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Forty Six

    EMBERLYThe deadbolts on the cottage door clicked shut, sealing me inside the suffocating darkness of my living room. I did not even make it all the way down the narrow hallway before the biological punishment hit my nervous system. The lingering, suppressed fragments of my Heat flared up with a v

  • I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate   Forty Five

    EMBERLYMy heavy textbook sat open on the small library desk, its dense pages detailing mid-century European pack economics. The bright screen of my laptop illuminated my tired face in the quiet study room. Just then, my encrypted burner phone suddenly vibrated violently against the wood, a harsh,

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