Page 144 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

She tilted her head, lost in some memory I had no desire to share.

“I always knew you weren’t cut out to be alpha. And I mean that as a compliment, truly. Your heart was always too soft. Like a bruised peach—sweet underneath, but too easily damaged. No matter how much strength Malcolm tried to instil in you.”

“What’s the point of this?” I spat, unable to control myself any longer.

She was trying to drag me back to being that lost, guilty boy who’d failed to protect his brother. But I wasn’t him anymore. I wasn’t that broken kid anymore. I’d found my real pack. I’d found myself.

I met her eyes steadily. “I know who I am. That won’t change. No matter what you do to me.”

She stepped back, nodding to the surgeon.

I closed my eyes.

Think of Felix.

I forced myself to remember that last night we'd spent together. The way his eyes had lit up when we'd spent an hour discussing Game of Thrones, debating the tactical failures at the Battle of the Blackwater. Eventually, I couldn't focus on his words because all I could think about was kissing him senseless. His mouth had fallen open when I'd pressed him back against the pillows.

Think of Rory.

Rory’s maniacal cackle as Freddy had performed an elaborate heist to steal an entire roast chicken from the kitchen counter, scampering across the ceiling with his prize whilst Rory applauded like he was watching Shakespeare.

Hold on to that. Whatever they do to you, hold on to them. They’re yours. All yours. They can’t take them away from you if you don’t let them.

The first cut sent warm blood trickling down my neck.

32

Felix

The snow crunched beneath our boots with each step, the only sound in the deafening mountain silence. Rory walked ahead, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air as he carved a path through the deepening drifts. I followed in his wake, grateful he wasn’t trying to talk.

My fingers had gone numb despite the stupidly expensive thermal touchscreen gloves. The tablet screen glowed weakly through the clear plastic bag I’d wrapped around it, displaying our GPS coordinates as we trudged deeper into what should have been empty wilderness.

The storm was worsening. Fat snowflakes stuck to everything—our coats, the tablet screen, our backpacks. Visibility had dropped to maybe ten metres ahead. It was highly possible we’d casually walk past whatever we were looking for at this rate.

My tablet chimed.

“Stop!” I shouted, the word cracking in the cold air.

Rory jumped, spinning around so fast he nearly toppled into the snow. “Christ, Felix! What—”

I held up my hand, staring at the screen. Blood rushed through my ears as I read the results from the automated background scan I’d been running.

“What is it?” Rory demanded, trudging back towards me. “Felix, we can’t stop. We’re one minute away from being ice pops out here.”

I ignored him, trying to tap the screen with clumsy gloved fingers. The snow wasn’t helping—each flake that hit the tablet melted and interfered with the touch response.

“Felix!” Rory’s voice carried an edge of panic. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Finally, I gave up fighting the elements. I pulled my coat over my head, creating a makeshift tent around the tablet screen. The warm little bubble was almost a relief.

“Wi-Fi networks,” I whispered, my voice muffled by the fabric. “Multiple hidden networks with enterprise-grade encryption.”

“What does that mean?” Rory crouched beside me, his warmth seeping through the coat.

I scrolled through the data, my pulse quickening with each line. “I’m looking at the signal strengths. We’re supposedly in the middle of nowhere, but I’m detecting network traffic that suggests a facility with fifty-plus connected devices.”

“So we found them?”