All Chapters of I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

AUTHOR'S POVThe Southern Packhouse did not feel like it was built just to remind everyone stepping inside of their own insignificance.Emberly sat rigidly on the edge of a heavy leather chair inside the executive office, her hands gripping the knees of her baggy denim jeans. The room smelled of expensive cigar smoke, polished mahogany, and the suffocating, heavy scent of Alpha dominance. Across the massive desk sat Alpha Magnus. He was casually reviewing a stack of printed reports, completely ignoring her presence for the first ten minutes to establish absolute control over the room.Finally, Magnus set his expensive pen down. He looked up, his expression shifting into a mask of polite, paternal concern."I appreciate you coming in on such short notice, Emberly," Magnus said, his voice smooth and deceptively soft. He stood up from his high-backed leather chair and slowly walked around the desk. "I know your academic schedule is demanding. But as a father, I have a vested interest in

JORDANThe blades carved the freezing ice, spraying a fine, bitter mist into the arena air. Lungs burning, I gripped the composite stick, tracking the black rubber puck sliding across the blue line. Keep the head down. Run the drill. Maintain the damn civilian cover so Magnus doesn't suspect the Alpha heir is actively plotting treason. That was the goal. Show up, play the human college athlete, and keep the pack politics out of the rink.Except my brain refused to shut up.Pass the puck.Coach Miller blew his whistle, a shrill shriek echoing off the high tin ceiling.Skating backward, I adjusted my helmet. Sweat trickled down my spine beneath the heavy padding, freezing the second it hit the chilled air. My muscles pumped on autopilot. My mind was currently locked three miles away, staring at the encrypted files Cael had dumped on my phone an hour ago.*Beta Marcus Lynne. Executed for treason: October 14th.*A teammate, holding the wing, shouted my name. I ignored him.*Emberly Lynnw

AUTHOR'S POVScalding steam hissed from the espresso machine, cutting through the miserable, wet gloom of the campus cafe.The rain battered the large glass windows while freezing drizzle turned the sidewalks outside into slick grey mirrors, driving desperate, soaked college students into the shop. They huddled together in cheap winter coats, tracking muddy footprints across the linoleum floor. The entire room smelled of wet wool, sour milk, and burnt coffee beans.Sitting perfectly still at a corner table, Victoria Ashford crossed her legs. She smoothed the pristine fabric of her designer skirt, refusing to let her skin touch the sticky wooden edge of the table. Her goal was incredibly simple. She needed absolute, undeniable proof that the pathetic little boy keeping her fiancé distracted was actually a girl."Order for Victoria!" a rough, masculine voice shouted from the pick-up counter.Looking up, she spotted him. Emberly.The barista stood behind the stainless steel counter, wipi

JORDANThe fumes burned the back of my throat, thick and suffocating in the sterile air of the university biology lab.The tweezers trembled in my right hand. Hovering over the pinned, grey flesh of a fetal pig, sweat pooled at the base of my neck. Get through the dissection, secure the passing grade, and keep the human college-student cover completely intact. Those were the only things i needed to get done. If I failed this mandatory lab, Professor Vance would report my academic standing directly to the Packhouse administration, and Magnus would drag me into the Executive Wing for another interrogation."You're shaking, man," Josh whispered.My lab partner leaned against the black resin counter, chewing loudly on a piece of spearmint gum. He smelled like cheap body spray and stale corn chips."I'm fine," I rasped, forcing my voice into its lowest register.Adjusting my grip on the metal tweezers, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my ribs. The heavy canvas chest binder was laced entire

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