The lost mate

Chapter 112: A planned attack

ƒгeewёbnovel.com Damien sat at the polished mahogany table, nodding along to a human businessman’s proposal, but his mind wasn’t entirely focused on the words being spoken. He’d been through a thousand meetings like this before, and normally, he could handle them with ease. But today was different.

A sudden wave of fear washed over him, sharp and unexpected, making his muscles tense beneath his tailored suit. It wasn’t his fear, though. It was Anne’s. The unmistakable pull of their mate bond surged within him, and though she was far away, the intensity of her emotions hit him like a physical blow. He could feel her panic and her restlessness, as if she were calling out to him without words. His chest tightened.

Damien shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to maintain his composure as the men around him droned on about figures, logistics, and market projections. His wolf stirred inside him, restless, as if sensing his mate’s distress.

He glanced down at his phone, lying face up on the table, and considered leaving the room right then. But no—he had to finish the meeting. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus long enough to push through the rest of the conversation.

Once outside the boardroom, he pulled out his phone and immediately called Anne. It rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

His heart began to pound. She always answered his calls, especially when he reached out through their bond like this.

He tried again, but still no response.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, pacing the length of the hallway.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. The fear he felt through the bond wasn’t normal anxiety. It was deeper, more intense. Anne was in trouble and she wasn’t answering. His wolf growled within him, clawing at his control, demanding he leave everything and run to her.

Damien called for Chris, who had joined him for the meeting in Chicago.

"What’s happening back in the pack?" Damien asked, his voice sharper than intended. "I can feel Anne’s emotions—she’s scared. She’s in trouble. Why hasn’t she answered my calls?"

There was a brief pause before Chris replied, "Alpha, there’s been a situation with the council."

Damien’s blood ran cold. The council. Those meddling fools always caused trouble, but this felt different. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Anne’s been accused of... well, of breaking the law, Alpha. Alpha Jackson found out that Anne was involved in the killing of Ronald. Heather’s ex husband. The council came to the pack earlier today to question her. I think they wanted to take her away for investigation."

"Take her away?" Damien’s voice was a low growl now, fury rising within him. No one would take Anne. Not while he was still breathing. "Where is she now? Is she safe?"

"She’s still at the packhouse," Chris quickly assured him. "Madam Luna stepped in—she convinced the council to let Anne stay under her protection, at least for now. But it’s tense, Alpha. The council is suspicious, and there’s a lot of pressure on Anne."

Damien’s mind raced. Twas unexpected. His mother had never been fond of Anne. Still, Damien couldn’t trust the council to be fair, and he couldn’t leave Anne to face this alone.

"Cancel all my meetings; we are returning," Damien said, his voice tight with determination. "I don’t care what it takes."

"Yes, Alpha," Chris replied, his tone respectful but laced with concern. "I’ll keep you updated."

Damien had done everything he could to make arrangements for his immediate return to the pack, but he still felt trapped by the distance. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Anne’s fear through their mate bond, the sensation crawling under his skin like a persistent itch.

But right now, all he could do was wait for the jet to be ready, and waiting was something he was never good at. Needing to take the edge off his nerves, Damien headed down to the hotel bar, hoping a drink might dull the restless energy coursing through him.

The bar was dimly lit, with a warm amber glow casting shadows on the polished wood and leather seating. It was quieter than usual; only a few patrons scattered around. He ordered a neat whisky from the bartender and took a seat in the corner. The sharp burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat was a welcome distraction, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside him.

As he raised the glass to his lips for a second sip, something—or rather someone—caught his eye. A figure seated a few tables away, her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, casually swirling a glass of red wine. He frowned, a sense of recognition slowly dawning on him.

Jessica.

His mood shifted in an instant, from simmering frustration to outright anger. What the hell was she doing here?

He pushed his chair back roughly and strode towards her, the sound of his boots heavy against the wooden floor. Jessica looked up as he approached, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Damien," she purred, her tone sweet and casual, as if they were old friends meeting by chance. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Damien demanded, his voice low and dangerous, barely keeping his temper in check. "In Chicago? Did you follow me?"

Jessica took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving his. "Maybe," she said, her voice light with a hint of teasing. "I was just hanging around. You know, exploring the city."

Damien’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Hanging around?" he repeated, disbelief colouring his words. "Do you think I’m stupid, Jessica? I want nothing to do with you."

Jessica’s smile faltered slightly, but she kept her composure. "I thought maybe we could talk," she said, her voice soft, almost pleading now. "I miss you, Damien."

"I don’t care," he snapped, his patience evaporating. "I told you before—I have a mate. I don’t want anything to do with you. Leave me the hell alone."

Jessica’s expression darkened for a brief moment, but before she could say anything else, Damien turned on his heel and stalked out of the bar, his mind already racing with thoughts of Anne and how soon he could get back to her. Jessica’s sudden appearance was just another complication he didn’t need.

As he walked down the quiet hotel corridor, his mind was clouded with frustration.

That’s when something struck him.

The blow came out of nowhere, a sharp, painful impact to the back of his head. Damien staggered forward, disoriented, the hallway spinning around him. His vision blurred, and he reached out to steady himself, but his knees buckled beneath him.

His wolf growled inside him, but Damien couldn’t react fast enough. His body collapsed to the ground, the cold floor rushing up to meet him. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision as he struggled to stay conscious and to fight against the blackness that was pulling him under.

The last thing he heard before everything went dark was the soft sound of footsteps behind him.

Then, silence.