Isis: The E6 Breeder (Lycan Breeder Series Book No. 2)

Scene 46

One-thirty-four... one-thirty-five. Set done. Cross hands. One-thirty-six...

Fitting high intensity workouts into his spare time provided snippets of peace to an overactive mind. Finding a balance of physical exertion, studying, and plotting at a young age gave Marc the edge he needed to not just be on the E6 team, but to provide a unique skill his brothers didn't have. Sure, they would get by without him, but he made them more effective.

Right now, he should not be thinking about Isis.

Right now, he should not be thinking about the raid.

Right now, he should be counting his pushups.

One-thirty-nine.... One-forty...

Intermixed with the visualization of flexing his core and engaging his back muscles were images of the top offenders they were looking to take down at the market: Their own "Most Wanted" list. Bringing in a particular one-eyed bastard was at the top of his goals.

Correction. Bringing Rebecca home safe was his top concern. The only unacceptable loss would be her demise. Why the fuck did they agree to send her in? Every day that she was away from the pack chipped away at their collective confidence.

One-forty-three... one-forty-four...

Like a horrific slow motion car accident, the two trains of thought collided. An image of the one-eyed bastard putting his hands on Rebecca, marking, mating, and killing her like he has done almost half a dozen times before. Nausea, and if he were being honest, fear roiled through his already clenched core.

He's made connections out West that are of concern. It's like he created a network of shifters who want to harm she-wolves. If they can take him out, they can not only keep his future victims safe, but also keep him from mentoring other psychopaths.

Not a psychopath and you know it. He's a masochistic sadist. Watched his fated mate die right in front of him and has been recreating the pain of that loss ever since. Whether it was a strange attempt to reconnect to his lost mate or a way to practice shoring up his emotions, who knows. What is known is that he wants to create pain for himself, and for his mate.

One-forty-four... one-forty-four...

Back when he had two eyes, his pack went from grief stricken with the death of their beloved luna, to rejoiceful when he had taken on a chosen mate. There were signs that he was not committed to her like he should be, but excuses were made in desperation to pull back some of their stability from before the tragedy. When the alpha's new mate was discovered dead, suspicion whispered across the pack.

His next victim had spoken against being his mate the day before he marked her. Whispers turned to low conversations when she disappeared from the public view a couple days later. Her family petitioned intervention from King Micah and when his Curia Regia arrived, there was only a dead she-wolf waiting for him in the Alpha's quarters.

Images of three other discarded she-wolves flashed through his mind as he counted off his sixth "one-hundred and forty-four."

A quick rap of knuckles dissolved his visual and motivation to continue with this workout.

Isis.

His body wasn't worn, but his mind was. Lifting himself to his full height, he moved towards the door, opening it to find his own mate looking up to him with an unreadable expression.

No, not unreadable. You're good at reading people. But the fact that she interrupted your indulgence in a true crime style rundown of a mate-killer has messed up your head.

She, however, didn't miss a thing. The quick once-over she gave him seemed to solidify whatever she had been thinking. Her mouth hardened and her eye contact settled on him.