The Alpha Mate

Chapter 55

I sat there at that polished, suffocating dinner table, drowning in the storm Dominic had unleashed.

He had set his plan in motion. Pulled the trigger. Involved me without a second thought, without my consent, without any concern for what it would do to me. And never bothered to tell me.

I smiled, nodded, played my part—but inside, I was unraveling. Every word Julius and Minerva said only pulled the noose tighter around my throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to maintain the facade they expected.

They believed I was bringing Atlas back. They believed I was working with Dominic. And worst of all—they believed Atlas's return would erase their "suffering."

"Soon," Minerva had said with a gleam in her eye, a predatory satisfaction that made my skin crawl, "everything will be balanced again. With Atlas home, the future can finally begin."

"Balanced," Julius echoed, his voice heavy with meaning I didn't understand but feared nonetheless. "The threat will pass. The prophecy will fulfill itself, and we'll be rid of the shadow over our name."

I didn't ask what they meant. I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't open. My body sat still, locked in place by shock and horror, but my thoughts were a whirlwind of terror. What prophecy? What balance? What the hell were they planning?

The words echoed in my mind, sinister and vague, pregnant with threat. The way they spoke about Atlas—like he was a problem to be solved, an equation to be balanced. Not their son. Not a person.

The second dinner ended, I was on my feet, chair scraping harshly against the floor, the sound jarring in the suddenly quiet room. I ignored Dominic's subtle attempts to catch my arm, his knowing smirk, his silent game of cat and mouse that he played so well.

I stormed down the corridor toward his chambers, fury rising in my chest like a fire I couldn't contain, threatening to burn through my control, to consume everything in its path.

He was waiting when I arrived. Standing near the fireplace, unbothered. Radiant in the flickering light. Manipulative.

"Evan," he said sweetly, turning to face me with that practiced smile, "I was wondering when you'd—"

"You set me up." I slammed the door shut behind me, my voice sharper than a blade, cutting through his pleasantries. "You used my name to lie to your parents. You fed them some twisted story about me helping you bring Atlas back—and you didn't tell me anything."

He blinked, innocent as ever, the picture of confusion. "Oh, is that what you're upset about?"

"I'm furious, Dominic!" I growled, advancing on him, hands clenched into fists at my sides. "You're dragging me into something I want no part of. Whatever you're planning for Atlas—whatever this 'balance' nonsense is—you're playing games with people's lives."

His smirk didn't falter. "You're overreacting."

"I'm not!" I snapped, voice rising despite my attempt to control it. "You know what your parents are capable of. What you're capable of. And I am not going to be complicit in hurting Atlas. I—" My voice cracked, emotion breaking through, but I pushed on. "I won't let you use me as a pawn."

Dominic's expression cooled, the mask of sweetness sliding away to reveal something colder underneath. "You've always been emotional about him. Even when we were kids. He barely had to look at you and suddenly you were his loyal guard dog."

"Because he needed someone!" I hissed, stepping closer, anger and frustration warring inside me, threatening to boil over. "Because no one ever stood up for him. Not you. Not your parents. No one. He was alone, and you all made sure of it."

"He's a parasite," Dominic snarled, the mask finally slipping completely, revealing the venom beneath, the hatred he'd been hiding all along. "Clinging to sympathy, hiding behind pain. But he's not harmless. You saw his strength. His power. And now he's in their pack—Crimson Fang. He's becoming dangerous."

I stepped back, swallowing hard, the implications sinking in like stones. He didn't just want Atlas back. He wanted him gone. Forever.

"Stop this," I said, voice low and dangerous. "Whatever you're planning—stop it. Let him finally go. Let him have his peace."

His eyes shimmered with something dark, something unhinged, something I'd never seen so clearly before.

"Why are you still so obsessed with him, Evan? Do you really think he still wants you? After you chose me? After you stood by and did nothing while he suffered?"

My silence was answer enough. The truth hung between us, heavy and undeniable.

He stepped closer, voice dipping into that seductively soft tone he used when he wanted to manipulate me, when he wanted to pull me back under his control.

"You don't need to do anything," he whispered, reaching up toward my face. "Just put on the show. Play the role. Let me handle Atlas. And we would finally get our happily ever after. Together."

He reached up, threading his fingers through my hair, pulling my mouth down to his. His kiss was slow. Possessive. Full of dark promises and unspoken threats. But this time his lips tasted like poison. Like death and betrayal.

* * *

The woods blurred around me as I moved fast, darting between trees, my breath sharp in my chest, ragged and burning. My legs ached, muscles screaming with exertion, my lungs burned with each gasping breath, but I didn't slow. Couldn't slow.

I had to reach him. I had to warn him before it was too late. Even if it meant crossing the edge of Crimson Fang's territory. Even if I'd be branded a traitor for stepping too far into enemy lands, for violating pack boundaries without permission. Even if I've got to get to their packhouse to see him, to find him wherever he was.

I didn't care. None of it mattered anymore. Not my position, not my safety, not the consequences that would surely follow.

I needed to see Atlas. Needed him to know what Dominic was planning. That he was in danger. Real, immediate danger. That they were watching him. Plotting something with teeth and blood and prophecy, something I didn't fully understand but knew was deadly, something that would end with Atlas dead or worse.

The kiss still burned on my lips, a reminder of the choice I had to make. Dominic or Atlas. The lies or the truth. My future or my conscience. There was no choice. Not really. There never had been.

The path to our meeting place appeared ahead—our place. The ridge above the stream where we always met. Talked. Where I almost kissed him, where I'd come so close to telling him the truth.

It wasn't the agreed day. I knew that. We had a schedule, careful timing to avoid detection.

But I clung to the desperate hope that maybe, maybe, he'd be there anyway. That some instinct, some tug in his chest, had pulled him toward the same need that was driving me forward. That somehow, he'd know I was coming.