Chapter 4: Blacklight Betrayal

The pull hit me like a bad hangover sometime after noon, a dull yank behind my ribs that made my hands shake while I sorted ammo clips for the fourth time. Perfect stacks. Labels out. Elena's cinnamon gum snapped every few seconds from across the folding table in our border outpost, her braid already wrapped tight around her wrist like she was bracing for a fight.

She didn't say anything at first. Just watched me with that flat look that said she'd caught me twice now with no decent lie left in the tank. The medallion from my mother burned against my chest, right over skin that still carried the faint scent of him from last night. Spicy chips sat heavy in my gut. Nothing grounded me anymore.

"You're twitchy as hell, kid," she said finally, not looking up from her report tablet. "And you smell like you rolled in the enemy's backyard. Again. Anything you want to tell me before I stop covering for your ass?"

I met her eyes. The lie stuck in my throat anyway. "Just tired. Long patrol."

Her jaw tightened. I could see the hurt there, sharp as a fresh bite, from catching me with his scent still on me this morning. Part of me wanted her to drag me to the Alpha right then. End it. But the hook in my chest jerked harder, pain flaring until my vision blurred at the edges. Lattimore felt it too. The bond didn't give a shit that it was daylight or that we'd agreed on tomorrow night.

I stood so fast the chair scraped loud against the concrete. "Need some air."

"Valcourt."

I didn't stop. The door slammed behind me and I broke into a jog toward the river, boots slapping pavement that reeked of exhaust and yesterday's rain. The ache eased a fraction the closer I got to the overpass. My wolf paced under my skin, snarling at the insanity of this. Meeting him now, in broad daylight, at a neutral spot that could get us both killed. One wrong scent and whichever pack found us first would paint the docks red.

The old fight club squatted under the concrete arch like something waiting to bite. Graffiti from both sides of the river layered the walls in overlapping threats. I slipped through the side door that still stank of stale beer and old blood even though the place sat empty this early. Blacklights hummed overhead, throwing everything into weird purple. My brown skin looked alien under them. The bond flared the second I stepped inside.

He was already there, leaning against the far wall near the empty ring, tall and still in that way that made him look carved from shadow. Shaved head gleaming, the scar through his eyebrow cutting white across deep brown skin. His vintage watch caught the light funny as he stroked the side of his head, fingers worrying old wounds.

Our eyes locked. The yank in my chest eased so fast my knees almost gave. I felt his relief crash into mine, his exhaustion, the way his unit's screams still echoed in his skull from the memories the bond had dumped on me last night. My hands curled into fists at my sides instead of reaching for him.

"You look like shit," I said, voice low and rough as I crossed to him. Knuckles cracked once, twice.

Lattimore's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Feeling's mutual. The separation worsened overnight." His precise words cracked on the end. He pushed off the wall with those economical steps. "I felt your lieutenant's suspicion through you. Elena. She's close to breaking us."

Hearing him say her name sent a spike of something hot through my gut. Protective. Angry. Maybe his. The bond tangled it all up until I couldn't sort it. I shoved a hand through my dark hair, pushing the messy strands out of my eyes. "She's my friend. Was. Before I started sneaking off to get railed by the guy who gave the order on my squad."

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, not hard, just enough to catch my pulse jumping under his thumb. The touch shot straight up my arm. Under the blacklights his eyes looked almost gold. "This was supposed to wait until tomorrow night. The bond wouldn't let me stay away."

I let out a bitter laugh that scraped my throat raw. "Yeah. Here we are. Two idiots about to get torn apart if anyone walks in."

We stood there in the humming quiet, blacklights making the fresh bite on my shoulder glow faintly through my shirt. Permanent. Visible. It pulsed with both our hearts. His dark ozone-and-blood scent hit me full force, and my body reacted whether I wanted it to or not. Slick threatened, a reminder of exactly how fucked I was.

I pulled the medallion out from under my collar. Silver caught the purple light and warped it. "My mother gave me this before the Valcourts took me in. Pack above all. She died thinking I'd make her proud. Instead I'm here letting you ruin me."

Lattimore's gaze dropped to the disc. His thumb brushed my wrist bone once before he let go. For a long beat he said nothing. Then he reached into his pocket and turned over the vintage watch in his long fingers. The hands were frozen at the minute his father died in that fire my pack set.

"My father believed I would end this feud," he said at last, voice low and commanding even now. "Made me lieutenant at twenty-five. Said a Lattimore doesn't bend." He gestured between us, tight and controlled. "Then you. The bloodline that helped burn everything he built."

The words should have made me want to rip his throat out. Instead they landed like shared shrapnel, heavy and familiar. I stepped in until our chests almost touched. The club smelled like concrete dust and old sweat, but all I registered was him. The gleam on his shaved head. The coiled power he held so still.

"I keep seeing your unit," I muttered. My voice came out smaller than I liked. "The ones your pack cut down. I trained with them. Shared stupid jokes. And now I can't stop needing the bastard who gave the order."

His breath caught. Through the bond I caught the raw flicker underneath his control, that same bone-deep loneliness that mirrored mine. It scared the shit out of me, but I didn't pull away.

Lattimore cupped my jaw, thumb tracing the line there with a gentleness that felt like surrender. His calluses scraped rough and warm. I leaned into it before I could stop myself.

"This is humiliating," I said against his palm.

His mouth met mine before I could add anything else. Not the teeth-and-dominance clash from the warehouse. This one started careful, almost careful enough to hurt. His lips moved soft, then deeper, tongue sliding in with heat that made my pulse hammer. I groaned into it, the sound vibrating between us. He tasted like coffee and the sharp edge of giving up.

The bond flared and dumped flashes of him. Younger Lattimore watching his father's holdings burn. The weight of expectation crushing him into the perfect soldier. The same hollow ache I'd carried since my mother died. I broke the kiss just enough to breathe.

"Fuck. I hate how bad I need this."

"Then take it," he murmured, hands sliding down to grip my hips hard. We stumbled back until my ass hit the padded edge of the fight ring. Blacklights painted us both in alien colors, making my mating mark glow like a damn signpost.

His fingers worked my belt open with that precise control even while his breathing went ragged. I shoved his pants down just enough to free him. His cock sprang heavy and hot into my hand, already leaking. The thick, velvet weight of it made my mouth water and my hole clench.

Lattimore spun me to face the ropes, bending me over the edge. His chest pressed tight to my back, mouth finding the bite mark through my shirt. He sucked hard. Lightning shot down my spine. Slick flooded out of me, soaking through my clothes, the bond demanding what it wanted.

"You're dripping for me already," he growled against my neck, voice gone rough around the edges. One hand wrapped around my aching cock, stroking slow and firm. The other pushed my pants lower, fingers tracing through the mess between my cheeks.

I pushed back against him, desperate. "Stop talking and fuck me, Andrei."

Using his name snapped something. He cursed, low and filthy, and pressed the blunt head of his cock against me. One smooth thrust buried him to the hilt, stretching me in that perfect burn I was already hooked on. We both groaned. The bond lit up so the pleasure doubled, echoed, until I couldn't tell where I ended.

He moved with controlled snaps of his hips that drove me into the ropes. Each thrust dragged perfect over that spot inside me. His hand never stopped working my cock, thumb swiping the leaking head on every upstroke. Sweat slicked between us. The wet slap of skin filled the empty club.

"Look at you," he panted against my ear. "Taking your enemy's cock where anyone could walk in. Glowing with my mark."

The words should have shamed me. They didn't. I turned my head, seeking his mouth again. This kiss was messier, all teeth and raw need, but the tenderness underneath it terrified me more than the lust. His free hand cradled my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Claiming.

I came first, sudden and hard, spilling over his fist with a broken shout that bounced off the concrete. My body clamped down around him. Lattimore followed with a low growl that vibrated through my bones, hips stuttering as he spilled deep. Heat flooded me. The bond burned so bright everything else faded.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard. His forehead pressed to the back of my neck. His heart hammered against my spine. For one stupid second I let myself feel the flicker of hope through the bond. Maybe we could figure this out. Maybe it didn't have to end in blood.

The side door creaked open.

We froze. Lattimore pulled out fast. I hissed at the loss as cum trickled down my thigh. We yanked our clothes back together with frantic hands. The marks still glowed under the blacklights, impossible to hide. His on my shoulder. Mine on his collarbone where his jacket hung open.

Footsteps echoed. Dominic Reyes stepped into the purple glow, stocky build and close-cropped hair unmistakable. That permanent sneer twisted his face as his nostrils flared at the scent of sex and mixed pack blood.

"Well, Lieutenant," he drawled, voice slick with victory. He bent and picked up my discarded belt like a trophy. "This explains the extra patrols. Fucking a Valcourt mutt in neutral territory. Bold move."

Lattimore stepped in front of me, body coiled tight. Protective rage flooded the bond so sharp my own wolf snarled in answer. Dominic had seen everything. The glowing bites. The way we stood too close. The evidence still leaking down my leg.

"One chance," Dominic continued, spinning the belt in his fingers. "Tell me what the fuck is going on before I take this to the Alpha. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like treason."

My stomach dropped. Elena's face flashed behind my eyes, her braid tight, the betrayal I'd put there myself. Through the bond I felt Lattimore's mind racing for an exit that wouldn't get us both killed. The hope from moments ago curdled fast into cold terror.

The blacklights kept humming, painting us all in damning purple. Dominic's sneer widened as he waited for an answer that wouldn't come.