Chapter 39

My Cheating Mate

Jeremy pov

The plan had been for Emma to stay at the pack house in the fortified safe room with maximum security. She'd agreed. Promised. Said she'd follow protocols.

But when the alarms blared at 3 AM, she was still at my house.

We'd talked strategy until midnight—my father, Marcus, Emma, me, and half the council. Mapping out defensive positions, coordinating with allied packs, planning extraction routes. By the time we finished, it was too late for Emma to safely cross pack lands to the pack house.

"She stays here tonight," my father had decided. "Triple guard on this location. In the morning, we move her to the safe room."

So Emma had taken the guest room while I attempted to sleep in my own bed, knowing she was just down the hall. Knowing Black River was out there, positioning, waiting.

The alarms shattered the fragile peace at 3:17 AM.

Loud, piercing wails that meant one thing: breach. They were here.

I was moving before I fully woke, grabbing clothes, shoving my feet into boots. I could hear Emma doing the same in the guest room, her movements quick and efficient.

"Emma!" I shouted. "Stay in your room! Lock the door!"

"Like hell!" She emerged, already dressed, her eyes fierce. "I'm not hiding while—"

Gunshots. Close. Too close.

Glass shattered downstairs. Shouting. Snarling. The sounds of fighting erupting through the house.

My father burst through my bedroom door, Marcus right behind him. Both were partially shifted—eyes glowing wolf-gold, claws extended, moving with predatory grace.

"They breached the perimeter," my father said, his voice a growl. "Twenty wolves, minimum. Professional formation. Jeremy, get Emma to the basement. Marcus, with me. We hold them here."

"I'm not leaving you to—" I started.

"That's an order!" His Alpha command rolled through the room with physical force. "Protect Emma. That's your job right now. We'll handle the assault."

More gunshots. The sound of bodies hitting walls. Something heavy crashed through the kitchen below.

"Go!" Marcus grabbed weapons from the hall closet—silver blades, firearms. "Now, both of you! Basement, lock the reinforced door, don't come out until one of us gives the all-clear!"

Emma and I ran for the basement stairs as my father and Marcus headed down to meet the assault. I could hear them shifting fully, their wolves emerging with savage snarls.

The basement was designed for exactly this—reinforced walls, steel door, communication equipment. I shoved Emma inside and was following when the front door exploded inward.

Through the chaos, I caught glimpses: wolves in tactical formation, moving with military precision. Not the chaotic violence of typical rogues. This was coordinated. Professional.

"Jeremy!" Emma's hand grabbed my arm, trying to pull me into the basement.

But I couldn't. Not when my father was up there. Not when the pack was under assault.

"I have to help them," I said.

"No! You promised to keep me safe! That means staying alive!"

She was right. My job was protecting Emma. But watching my father fight while I hid—

An enforcer came crashing through the wall beside us, his body broken and bleeding. Dead or dying, I couldn't tell.

"Basement. Now." I shoved Emma toward the stairs. "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me or your father."

"Jeremy—"

"Please!" I met her eyes. "Please, Emma. I need to know you're safe. I can't fight if I'm worried about you."

She nodded once, sharp, then disappeared down the stairs. I heard the steel door slam, the locks engaging.

Good. She was as safe as I could make her.

I shifted, my wolf emerging with a fury I hadn't felt since the last attack. These bastards had come to my home. Threatened my mate. Endangered my pack.

They were going to regret it.

I charged into the main room where my father and Marcus were holding off six mercenaries. The wolves moved with terrifying efficiency—flanking, feinting, coordinating without verbal communication.

I hit the nearest one from the side, my jaws finding his shoulder. He twisted away, fast and trained, but not fast enough. My claws raked across his ribs, drawing blood.

"Outside!" My father's voice boomed through the mind-link. "They're herding us outside! It's a trap!"

But we didn't have a choice. There were too many of them in the confined space of the house. We needed room to maneuver.

We burst through what remained of the front door into chaos.

The pack house grounds were a battlefield. Wolves everywhere—ours in defensive formations, theirs in coordinated assault teams. I spotted at least thirty mercenaries. More than our intelligence had predicted.

Gunshots rang out. Silver bullets that made wolves scream when they hit. Some of the mercenaries were in human form with rifles, providing covering fire for their shifted pack members.

"Protect the pack house!" My father's command echoed through the mind-link. "Don't let them reach the safe rooms!"

Our enforcers were fighting with desperate courage, but Black River was better trained. Better equipped. They moved like a military unit because that's what they were.

A massive brown wolf broke through our lines, heading straight for my house. For Emma.

No.

I intercepted him mid-leap, both of us crashing into the ground. He was huge, scarred from countless fights, his teeth snapping inches from my throat.

We rolled, clawed, bit. He was skilled but I was fighting for everything I had. Emma was in that basement. I would die before I let him reach her.

My jaws closed around his throat. He struggled, powerful and desperate. But I held on, biting down harder, feeling tissue tear.

He went limp.

I released him and turned, looking for the next threat.

That's when I saw him.

A wolf even larger than the one I'd just killed stood at the edge of the battlefield. He was in human form—tall, battle-scarred, radiating authority. The other mercenaries deferred to him, adjusting their positions based on his hand signals.

The leader. Had to be.

He caught me looking and smiled. Cold. Professional. A man who killed for money and felt nothing about it.

He shifted—a massive black wolf with gray markings and scars across his muzzle. Then he howled. Long, commanding. A signal.

The other mercenaries pulled back slightly, creating a clearing in the center of the battlefield. Like they were making space for something.

The leader stalked forward into that clearing. His eyes fixed on me, and I understood.

Challenge. He was challenging me directly.

My father moved to intercept. "Jeremy, no! This is what he wants! Don't—"

But the leader spoke, his voice carrying across the battlefield even in wolf form. Pack leader gift—the ability to speak while shifted.

"We came to kill," he said, his voice like gravel. "The she-wolf marked for death. Emma Smith. Turn her over, and we leave. Refuse, and everyone dies."

Rage flooded through me. "Never."

I shifted to human form so I could respond properly. "You want her? You go through me. Through all of us. And I promise—you won't leave here alive."

He laughed. "Brave words, future Alpha. But we're professionals. You're just children playing at war."

"Then let's see who's playing." I shifted back, my wolf eager for blood.

The leader charged.

He was fast—faster than I expected. His shoulder hit me like a battering ram, driving me backward. I barely got my claws up in time to rake across his face.

He didn't even flinch. Just kept coming, his jaws snapping at my throat.

This wasn't like fighting rogues. This was fighting someone with training, experience, no fear. Someone who'd done this hundreds of times.

I dodged, twisted, tried to use my smaller size for speed advantage. But he anticipated every move. Cut off every escape. Drove me backward toward—

Toward the house. Toward Emma.

That's what this was. He was using me to find her location. Following my protective instincts straight to his target.

I changed tactics, pushing forward instead of retreating. If he wanted a fight, I'd give him one. Just away from Emma.

We collided in the center of the clearing. Teeth and claws and savage fury. Around us, the battle continued—pack wolves and mercenaries tearing into each other. But this fight, this specific fight, seemed separate. Important.

The leader's jaws closed around my shoulder. I felt teeth scrape bone. Pain exploded through me but I used it, twisting in his grip to slash at his exposed belly.

He released me, blood pouring from the gashes I'd opened.

But he was still standing. Still fighting. Still between me and—

Emma.

She'd emerged from the basement. Was standing on what remained of my porch, her wolf form silver-white and beautiful and completely exposed.

"NO!" I tried to shout through the mind-link, but she wasn't in my pack. Couldn't hear me. "EMMA, GET BACK INSIDE!"

But she wasn't running. She was watching the fight. Watching me.

And the leader saw her.

His eyes lit with recognition and savage triumph. There. His target. Finally.

He broke away from me and charged toward the house.

I ran. Faster than I'd ever moved. Desperation giving me speed I didn't know I had.

But I wouldn't make it. He was closer. Faster. Would reach her before—

Marcus came out of nowhere. A blur of brown fur slamming into the leader from the side. Father and daughter. Protecting each other.

They rolled, savage and desperate. Marcus was good—Beta for a reason—but the leader was better. More experienced. More brutal.

I reached them and dove in, three wolves now locked in combat. The leader trying to reach Emma. Marcus and I trying to stop him.

"Fall back!" My father's voice boomed. "All wolves fall back to second defensive line!"

The pack obeyed, pulling away from their individual fights. The mercenaries pressed forward, sensing victory.

But then I heard it. Howls in the distance. Dozens of them.

Our allies. Silverbrook and Moonshadow packs. They'd arrived.

Fresh wolves poured into the battlefield—fifty at least. The mercenaries hesitated, suddenly outnumbered.

The leader snarled in frustration. He'd planned for a quick strike. In and out before reinforcements arrived. But we'd delayed him too long.

He barked orders in that strange shared language pack leaders could use. The mercenaries began retreating in formation. Organized even in defeat.

"Don't let them escape!" My father commanded. "Hunt them down!"

But the leader was already gone, melting into the forest with his remaining wolves. We'd hurt them—I could see bodies on the ground, mercenaries who hadn't made it out. But most had escaped.

Including their leader.

I shifted to human form and ran to Emma. She'd shifted too, and I grabbed her shoulders.

"What were you thinking?" The words came out harsh with fear and relief. "I told you to stay in the basement!"

"I heard fighting. Thought you might need help—"

"I needed you SAFE!" I pulled her into a fierce hug. "Emma, they came for you. If that leader had reached you—"

"But he didn't. You stopped him. You and Dad." She was shaking against me. "Jeremy, I'm sorry. I just—I couldn't hide while everyone fought for me."

"You don't have to fight," I said into her hair. "You just have to survive. That's all I need. Just survive."

My father approached, covered in blood and wounds but standing. "Casualty report. Now."

Enforcers began calling out numbers. Three dead. Fifteen injured. Numbers that made my chest tight.

Three of our pack had died. Because mercenaries came for Emma.

Because of my affair with Vanessa. Because of choices I'd made months ago.

"This isn't your fault," Emma said quietly, reading my expression. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

But how could I not?

Three wolves were dead. More were injured. All because I'd betrayed my mate and created a situation that led to this.

"Jeremy." My father's hand on my shoulder. "We need to debrief. Figure out how they breached security. How they knew exactly where Emma would be."

That last part made my blood run cold.

They'd known. Had known Emma was at my house instead of the pack house.

Which meant they had intel. Current, accurate intel.

Which meant—

"We have a spy," I said. "Someone in the pack is feeding them information."

My father's expression turned grim. "That's my fear as well. And until we find them, nowhere is safe."

He looked at Emma, his future Luna, covered in dirt and fear but standing strong.

"We need to move her. Tonight. Somewhere they won't expect. Somewhere even our own pack doesn't know about."

"Where?" Marcus asked.

My father met my eyes. "There's a safe house. Outside pack territory. Only Alpha Richard and I know its location."

"I'll take her," I said immediately.

"No." My father shook his head. "You're injured. You need medical attention. And Emma—" He looked at her. "Emma, I'm sorry. But you need to disappear. At least until we root out the spy and neutralize the remaining threat."

"For how long?" Emma's voice was small.

"As long as it takes."

She nodded slowly. Then looked at me. "Come with me. Please. I don't want to do this alone."

I looked at my father. He studied us both, then nodded.

"Both of you. Tonight. I'll coordinate cleanup here." His expression hardened. "And I'll find the spy. Whatever it takes."

As dawn broke over the battlefield, as we counted our dead and prepared to run, I held Emma close and promised myself one thing.

This ended now. No more hiding. No more running.

We'd find the spy. Destroy Black River. End Vanessa's hired killers once and for all.

And then maybe—finally—Emma and I could have peace.

If we survived that long.