Chapter 17

My Cheating Mate

Jeremy pov

The bakery's cinnamon roll scent had just hit my nose when the sirens blared—three sharp wails that made every wolf in hearing distance freeze.

Attack. Rogues. All fighters to defensive positions.

My wolf surged forward instantly, years of training overriding the depression that had been weighing me down for months. I shifted mid-stride, my clothes tearing as my body reformed, and raced toward the pack house where the children would be gathering for protection.

The mind-link exploded with urgent reports:

*"Rogues at the eastern border!"*

*"At least twenty, maybe more!"*

*"They're organized—this isn't random!"*

*"Someone's leading them—"*

And then, the words that made my blood run cold:

*"It's Vanessa. Vanessa Quinn is leading them."*

Three months. She'd been planning this for three months.

I pushed harder, my paws eating up the distance to the pack house. Younger wolves were already streaming inside, shepherded by their parents and older pack members. But some of the teenagers—the ones Emma had been training—were grabbing weapons, preparing to fight.

Too young. They were too young, even with Emma's training.

I shifted back to human form as I reached them. "Inside. Now. That's an order."

"But Alpha—" one boy started.

"Inside!" I roared, letting my dominance roll over them. They scattered, obeying instinctively.

Emma appeared from around the corner, already shifted, her silver-white wolf moving with deadly purpose. She had a group of children with her—elementary aged, terrified, crying. She was herding them toward the reinforced safe room in the basement.

Our eyes met for just a second. Then she was gone, the children safe in her care.

My father's voice boomed through the mind-link: *"All warriors, defensive formation beta-three! Protect the pack house! Jeremy, take the eastern flank!"*

I shifted again and ran toward my position. Other wolves were converging—Marcus, my father's enforcers, warriors I'd trained with since I was old enough to fight.

The rogues hit like a wave.

They poured through the tree line, more than twenty, maybe thirty, all battle-scarred and vicious. And at the front, her cream-colored wolf larger than I remembered, was Vanessa.

She'd been training too. Building an army, preparing for this moment.

*"Spread out! Don't let them through!"* My father's command echoed in all our minds.

I engaged the first rogue that came at me—a massive gray wolf missing half an ear. We collided with bone-jarring force, teeth and claws seeking vulnerable flesh. I got my jaws around his throat and bit down hard, feeling the life leave him.

No time to process it. Another rogue was already on me.

The fighting was chaos. Rogues were skilled, organized in a way that lone wolves shouldn't be. Vanessa had trained them well, forged them into a cohesive unit with one goal: destroy Crescent Moon Pack.

Destroy me.

Through the battle, I caught glimpses of her. She was targeting specific wolves, calling orders in a way that suggested she knew our defensive patterns, our weak points.

Of course she did. She'd grown up here. Knew every strategy, every protocol.

*"They're trying to flank us!"* Marcus's voice cut through the chaos. *"Northwest corner—someone get there now!"*

I broke away from my current opponent and raced toward the northwest. Three rogues were trying to slip past our lines, heading straight for the pack house.

Straight for the children. For Emma.

My wolf snarled with protective fury. Not happening. Not ever.

I hit the first rogue from the side, sending us both tumbling. The other two turned to face me, circling, looking for an opening.

Three on one. Not great odds, but I'd faced worse.

The largest rogue lunged. I dodged, but the second one anticipated my movement and caught my hind leg in his jaws. Pain shot through me as teeth sank deep, scraping bone.

I twisted and raked my claws across his face. He yelped and released me, blood pouring from deep gashes across his muzzle.

The third rogue—smaller but faster—darted in while I was distracted. His claws caught my ribs, reopening wounds that had barely healed from the last rogue attack three months ago.

I was slowing down. Losing too much blood. These rogues were fresh, trained, organized.

And I was alone.

The large rogue lunged again. I tried to dodge but my injured leg gave out. His jaws closed around my shoulder, shaking violently.

Through the pain, through the blood and chaos, I saw Vanessa. She'd shifted to human form, standing at the edge of the battle, watching me struggle with cold satisfaction.

"How does it feel, Jeremy?" she called out, her voice carrying over the sounds of fighting. "To lose everything? To be helpless?"

I managed to throw off the rogue on my shoulder, but I was hurt badly now. Bleeding from multiple wounds, my leg barely supporting my weight.

The rogues circled closer, sensing victory.

Then a flash of silver-white exploded into the fray.

Emma.

She hit the largest rogue with enough force to crack ribs, her teeth finding his throat before he could react. The other two turned to face this new threat, but Emma was already moving, faster than I'd ever seen her fight.

She wasn't trying to kill them—she was trying to drive them back, away from me, away from the pack house.

*"Emma, get back inside!"* I tried to project through the mind-link, forgetting for a moment that our bond was dissolved, that she couldn't hear me anymore.

But she fought like she could feel my panic anyway. Fought like the warrior she'd become in the three months since I'd lost her.

One of the rogues managed to catch her flank, claws raking deep. She yelped but didn't slow, spinning and catching him across the face.

I forced myself back to my feet, ignoring the screaming pain in my leg and shoulder. Emma was hurt because of me. Fighting because I'd been too weak, too slow.

Not again. I wasn't going to be weak again.

I launched myself at the rogue who'd hurt her, my jaws finding his spine. He went down hard and didn't get back up.

Emma and I stood back to back now, facing the remaining rogues together. Like we had three months ago at the motel. Like we should have been all along.

*Partners. Mates. Fighting as one.*

But through the corner of my eye, I saw the real threat. Vanessa had shifted back to wolf form and was stalking toward us, her eyes fixed on Emma with murderous intent.

She'd wanted me to see this. Wanted me distracted by the other rogues while she went after Emma herself.

I moved to intercept, but my injured leg finally gave out completely. I stumbled, falling hard.

And that's when I saw it—the silver blade in the paws of a rogue I hadn't noticed. Silver, deadly to wolves, aimed straight at my exposed side.

No time to dodge. No time to shift or defend.

The blade flashed in the sunlight as it descended.

Then Emma was there, shoving me aside, taking the strike meant for me.

The silver knife sank deep into her shoulder.

She shifted involuntarily from the pain, her human form crumpling to the ground, blood pouring from the wound.

"No!" The word tore from my throat as I shifted, catching her before she hit the ground. "Emma! Emma, stay with me!"

Her eyes were glazed with pain, her skin already turning gray around the wound. Silver poisoning. It would spread fast.

"Jeremy," she whispered, her hand weakly reaching for my face. "Protect... the pack..."

Then her eyes closed and her hand fell limply to her side.

Behind us, Vanessa's laugh rang out, cruel and triumphant.

"Perfect," she purred. "Now you know exactly how it feels to lose everything."

My wolf howled with anguish and rage.

Emma had saved me. Had taken a blade meant for me.

And now she was dying in my arms.

Because of me. Again.

Always because of me.