Chapter 201: Armor

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. A mark? We shared the true calling mark etched into our wrists. Completely baffled by his interrogation, I pulled back the loose sleeve of my robe, exposing the intricate pattern set against my pale skin.

"Not that mark, Jane... The kind on your neck. Did you bite him?" His darkened eyes locked onto my face, demanding an immediate answer.

"Me? The Alpha marks the breeder, Sayan, not the other way around," the words tumbled off my tongue before I could process them.

I couldn’t grasp the logic behind his fury. Granted, ever since my full awakening as an Alpha Breeder, a primal urge to bite my husband during moments of intense passion had surfaced, but I had always dismissed it as simple, instinctual playfulness.

"Fuck..." Sayan exhaled sharply, pushing away from my chair to pace the length of the spacious room, violently running his fingers through his hair. "They aren’t blocking your visits just to be petty. If you put a permanent mark on him, it’s over." Stopping dead in his tracks, he threw his hands up in an explosive gesture. "Boom. Game over. All their plans disintegrate into ash."

"Why? What changes?" I surged to my feet, unable to stay seated for another second. If a tangible way to drive these vultures away from our family forever truly existed, it changed everything.

"If you lay a permanent mark and pierce his scent gland the way Magnus pierced yours, your bond seals permanently from both sides, and you lose all value to them. Your bodily fluids will permanently carry his DNA—just like an Alpha’s does when he claims his mate. You possess dominant fangs, Jane. Which means the venom channels are already fully formed."

"The only question left is... how do we accomplish that now?" I whispered, sinking back into the armchair and staring down as Sayan pulled a crumpled slip of paper from his trousers pocket and laid it across my lap.

A visitation clearance pass signed by the facility director. He had forced it out of him. A violent shiver of anticipation coursed through my body at the thought of finally seeing my Alpha. Clenching my trembling fingers around the heavy sheet of paper, I checked the date stamped at the bottom. Two days. If we managed to execute every detail of our plan, victory would be ours.

I would finally hold my man in my arms. Feel his warmth. Smell his scent.

Only after that late-night talk with Sayan did the suffocating anxiety loosen its grip, dissolving the tight knot in my throat and allowing me to sleep. But that illusion of peace lasted only until the following evening.

Having carved out a few quiet hours, I spent the afternoon with the children, relieved and astonished to see how naturally Damian and Matthias had bonded.

Damian had seamlessly stepped into the role of a protective elder brother, keeping a watchful, vigilant eye over my son. Perhaps in his fractured mind, he was filling the void left by his lost partner, Amelie. I couldn’t say for sure. But watching them interact brought a profound wave of warmth to my chest; Damian was gradually thawing.

As dusk approached, a courier delivered an encrypted letter from Illai Keiner. His message was brief: the roadblock concerning Oliver Hans could be navigated, but we needed to speak via a secure line to finalize the details, as written communication was entirely too compromised.

Slipping a cardigan over my shoulders, I walked down the long corridor toward the conservatory. But a flicker of movement beyond the tall glass windows caught my eye. I stopped, pressing against the pane as my stomach twisted into a tight, sickening knot of dread.

A fleet of identical white SUVs glided smoothly down the driveway, pulling up before the estate. The door of the lead vehicle swung open, and the new city leader stepped out onto the cobblestones, flanked by a heavily armed perimeter guard. Casting a panicked glance toward the playroom, I saw our own pack security converging on the main entrance. Sayan and Jake emerged from the security office, their expressions dark and lethal.

"Bastard. He never submitted an official notice for a visit," Sayan growled from behind me, making me startle.

Griting my teeth, I tensed, knowing he was entirely right. Magnus’s and my official bonding ceremony had been postponed following his arrest; legally, I remained his betrothed. And this man—resembling a predatory vulture—had invaded my home in my mate’s absence without warning, authorization, or consent.

What else could be expected from this raven besides a filthy attempt to compromise my reputation before the pack and my mate right before the first court hearing? He had come to dismantle us on our own ground.

***

"You certainly know how to extend a warm welcome, Jane."

Keeping my gaze fixed on my trembling fingers, I raised the teacup to my lips and took a scalding sip, welcoming the sharp burn to distract me from the man seated across the table.

Raymond Leone reclined in the leather armchair with deliberate arrogance. His expression dripped with distaste—though I expected nothing less, given that this self-important bastard had been forced to wait half an hour in my living room just to secure an audience with me.

And my appearance clearly failed to meet his high expectations. Instead of the pristine, manicured Alpha Breeder in an exquisite dress he likely anticipated, I had walked downstairs wearing an oversized, stretched-out hoodie.

This hoodie belonged to my man. The heavy fabric reeked intoxicatingly of Magnus—a small victory courtesy of Sayan, who had managed to slip it out of the detention center under the guise of laundry. His scent wrapped around me like an invisible suit of armor.

I had pulled on a pair of snug jeans that framed my legs, but the hoodie stretched nearly to my knees, obscuring everything else. My hair was tied back into a loose, messy ponytail.

To the man across from me, I looked more like a disheveled teenager than a mature woman. The choice was deliberate, of course. We couldn’t afford to reveal our hand.

My pregnancy remained our most closely guarded secret, buried beneath layers of oversized clothing so as not to hand these vultures a single shred of leverage.