Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Content Warning

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Knot Broken
© 2025 by Jessica Crosbie
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic or mechanical—without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover picture provided by vecteezy.com

Cover design by Jessica Crosbie

Content Warning

This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences (18+). Please read with care.
It includes:

Graphic violence and action scenes

Mentions of sexual assault

Explicit sexual content, including knotting and consensual multi-partner intimacy

Themes of kidnapping, captivity, and recovery

Strong language and dark humor

Power dynamics (Alpha/Omega social structure)

Depictions of trauma responses and emotional healing

Fiercely protective alpha behavior (and omegas who give them hell right back)

Despite the heavy themes, this story centers around found family, healing, badass omegas, emotionally damaged but wildly devoted alphas, and a romance that refuses to be tamed.

Dedication

To those who have faced darkness and still chose to step back into the light—
To the fierce hearts who’ve fought, loved, lost, and rebuilt themselves piece by piece.
May you always find strength in your scars, courage in your vulnerability, and power in knowing exactly who you are.

This one’s for you.

Chapter One

Violet

May 17th

10:25 A.M

I found my mates a month ago. A whole, aching month.

The universe dangled a promise right in front of me—offered a glimpse of something real, something mine—then ripped it away like it was a joke I was too stupid to understand. I had maybe an hour with them. Just long enough for my heart to clutch onto hope with trembling fingers… before they disappeared. Gone. Vanished like smoke in a gust of wind.

And I haven’t heard a single word since.

I met my mates in the worst possible place—trapped in the stink and shadow of a grimy building, surrounded by terrified omegas barely holding on to scraps of hope. Chaos pressed in from every angle, fear so thick it clung to your skin. My best friend Fallon had been practically inhaling one of her mates’ faces, because her rescuers had shown up. Of course, she got to feel safe. Chosen.

Me?

My rescuers were three devastatingly beautiful men. Alphas. They stormed in like a vengeance I hadn’t earned—commanding, lethal, mine. For a single, shining moment, I felt it. That pull. That impossible spark. Like something inside me had clicked into place for the first time in my life. Their scents wrapped around me like a promise I didn’t dare breathe too deeply.

And then... they left.

No goodbye. No explanation. Just turned around and walked away—out of the building, out of reach, and apparently, out of my life.

Now every day feels like a punishment I don’t remember earning. Every breath is a question I don’t want answered. Was it something I did? Something I said? Something I wasn’t?

Rejection claws at me—sharp, insidious. I try to be angry, to feel anything other than this hollow ache, but it always circles back to the same quiet doubt:
Was I never enough to begin with?

My phone blares loudly, dragging me out of my carefully scheduled Spiral of Despair like a cat yanked from a sunbeam. I flail dramatically, flinging off the nearest blanket with the flair of a tortured artist mid-breakdown. My phone is under the sixth layer of fleece, blaring like it has a death wish.

I emerge breathless and tangled from my mountain of fabric, only to see Fallon’s name glowing across the screen in a video call.

I swipe to answer, pulling my face into something that’s supposed to resemble a smile but probably looks more like a constipated emoji. “Yo, bitch,” I croak, trying to inject some of my usual sass into the words. I sound like I haven’t used my vocal cords in a week. (Because... fair.)

Fallon’s face appears, mostly in profile, as she paces like a woman possessed. Her screen bobs with every step—blurry glimpses of what might be her bridal store but... it’s off. The layout’s wrong, and the lighting is harsher. She’s in an oversized yellow sweater and black leggings, her midnight blue hair piled in a chaotic bun that’s screaming I’ve had three coffees and a crisis.

“FUCK!” she screeches.

I shriek in surprise and drop the phone straight onto my face. It bounces off my nose, slaps my pride, and tumbles somewhere into the blankets like it, too, is trying to escape this day.

“Jesus tapdancing fuck, Fallon,” I grunt, groping around in the fleece pit. My nest is not ergonomically designed for phone trauma. “I’m dying over here!”

I finally dug out the phone and propped it up on a balled up a blanket. Cross-legged and blinking, I glare at her through the screen. She doesn’t even flinch.

“I figured out why my Boston location was majorly fucked,” she growls, voice thick with fury. And honestly? It’s impressive how scary she sounds for someone who once got stuck in a revolving door and tried to blame the door.

“Oh no. What now?” I sigh, running a hand through my tangled purple curls. I’m already bracing for the worst. After everything that went down with Marline—the traitorous omega manager who dabbled in kidnapping—Fallon’s store barely had a pulse. If it’s another disaster, I may need to lock her up so she doesn’t go on a murder spree. Although her alpha Voss might go anyway.

She starts pacing again. “Turns out the manager was STEALING MONEY.”

I blink. “Define ‘stealing’ before I drive to Boston with a bat.”

“She was logging employee hours at base wage and pocketing their commissions. All of them.”

My mouth drops open, and not in a sexy way. “You mean to tell me... she gave them crap pay and kept the rest?! What the actual cinnamon-scented fuck?”

Fallon spins, then dramatically collapses onto the storeroom floor like a Greek tragedy in Lululemon. “I called all the employees for a private meeting—without alerting Marcy the Money-Leech—and guess what? Every single one of them showed. Half of them are working two or three jobs, Vi! Three!”

She looks up, eyes shimmering with barely contained tears. “They thought the commissions were fake. She told them they didn’t exist. And their base pay was supposed to be twenty-five an hour—not fifteen!”

Rage bubbles in my chest, my hand clenching around the edge of my comforter. “Fifteen an hour? In Boston? For bridal work? I could scream.”

“I did scream,” Fallon mutters. “Just ask my pack.” Her voice breaks on a weird hiccup laugh, eyes flicking briefly behind her. I glance at the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Voss—quiet, watchful, and clearly hovering like the fiercely loyal shadow he is.

Fallon continues, voice hoarse. “I made one of the omegas, Anna, the new manager. She’s sharp, organized, already fixing things—and three of the girls cried, Violet. Cried. Because I gave them back what they should’ve always had. I made my employees cry!”

She buries her face in her hands with a groan. “I’ve become that boss. The one who accidentally emotionally devastates people with fairness.”

My heart squeezes for her—equal parts frustration and pride. “Fallon,” I say gently, “you rescued them. Again. You do realize that, right?”

She peeks through her fingers, mascara slightly smudged, but her expression is one of quiet heartbreak and righteous fury.

“I’m going to find Marcy,” she says flatly. “And I’m going to throw her into a vat of tulle and set it on fire.”

I raise a solemn hand. “Let me pick the playlist.” Movement catches my attention again. I bite my lip to keep from smiling, watching the hulking alpha pace like a caged beast until Kingston finally gives him a look that says fine, but don’t make it a scene. Voss doesn’t wait. The moment he’s released, he practically launches himself across the storeroom like a tactical missile in black cargo pants.

Fallon lets out a startled squeak as he swoops her right off the ground and settles into a sitting position with her cradled in his lap like she weighs nothing. Her arms flail for half a second, wide-eyed and affronted.

I burst into laughter, nearly knocking over my phone. “Oh look,” I tease, voice syrup-sweet and laced with mischief, “your guard dog finally broke containment. It was only a matter of time.”

Fallon glares at me, red-cheeked and mortified, though she makes no move to escape Voss’s hold. His massive arms are wrapped around her like steel bars, and his expression is carved from stone—but his thumb is brushing slow circles into her hip, and the way she relaxes into him gives her away.

“Honestly,” I continue, grinning into the phone, “between your psycho managers and your alphaholic pack, your life is basically a Netflix drama. Someone cue the intense string music and a slow-motion hair flip.”

She flips me off with the kind of lazy middle finger that only a well-loved, emotionally exhausted omega can deliver. “I hate you,” she grumbles, though her voice is soft and warm.

“You love me,” I correct with zero shame, tilting my head like the smug menace I am. “And if you say otherwise, I’ll make you cry again—but not in a good, employee-uplifted way. Like, full-blown, mascara-running, ugly cry. You know I’ll do it.”

Fallon snorts, but then her expression shifts—eyes narrowing, lips curling into a sly, fox-like smile.

Oh. No.

I know that look.

It’s the look she gets right before she says something designed to derail my emotional stability. That’s the same look she wore right before she told Kingston about my very unfortunate crush on a tattooed barista who turned out to be a very happily mated alpha. (I will never step foot in that café again. Ever.)

“Fallon,” I warn, narrowing my eyes right back. “Don’t you dare.”

She leans slightly into Voss’s chest, grinning like a cat with its paw on the canary’s neck. “So... I’ve given you plenty of time.”

“Time for what?” I ask warily, already regretting everything.

She bats her lashes. “To spill about your mates, obviously.”

And there it is. The question I was hoping to avoid.

I glance away, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on my blanket. It’s frayed and pitiful—kind of like my heart, honestly. My chest tightens painfully, and I blink hard against the sting threatening to spill over. Not again. I’ve cried enough over them. Over this.

“I don’t have any mates, Fallon.”
The words scrape out like sandpaper, dry and broken.

“Wait—Voss was wrong?” Her voice drops instantly, soft with confusion, the sharp edge fading into concern. It’s almost cautious, like she already knows what I’m going to say and is bracing for it.

I force myself to look back at the screen. I can’t hide the moisture pooling in my eyes—not from her. Fallon’s entire expression shifts the moment she sees me. That soft worry vanishes beneath her omega growl, low and rising like a warning rumble of thunder. It’s terrifying when she gets like this. Terrifying, and comforting in that you are so loved, I will burn the world down for you kind of way.

“What the fuck happened?” she demands.

I sigh hard, dragging my sleeve across my eyes even though it does little to stop the ache building behind them. “Honestly? I don’t even know. The men who rescued us that night, along with your pack.  They were mine, Fallon. I felt it. My whole damn soul felt it. But after we left that warehouse... nothing.”

My voice trembles, traitorous and thin. “It’s been a month. A whole fucking month. They could’ve found me through your pack or any of your alpha connections. But they didn’t. I haven’t heard a word.” I press the heel of my palm to my chest, like that’ll stop the crack forming there. “I think—” The words splinter mid-sentence, and I have to force them out through clenched teeth. “I think they rejected me.”

Fallon gasps, full and furious, and I barely register it before—

Ding-dong.

The doorbell chimes like it doesn’t know it’s interrupting a full-blown emotional meltdown.

I flinch, blinking in disbelief. “Hold that thought,” I mutter, scrambling out of the nest with all the grace of a sleep-deprived opossum. “Someone’s apparently decided it’s a great time to ring my doorbell.”

I trudge down the hallway, muttering curses under my breath, emotionally unraveling and blanket-wrinkled like a true disaster omega. I’m fully prepared to lay into a Jehovah’s Witness, a lost pizza guy, or possibly a neighborhood cat.

But then I yank open the front door—

—and my heart stops.

They’re there.

All three of them.

Dare. Fox. Jex.

Jex, the tallest, massive enough to practically fill the entire doorway, towers over me. His deep chestnut hair is dull and knotted from neglect. His golden-brown eyes—intense and strangely vulnerable—fix onto mine, exhaustion and desperation swirling in their depths. Even slumped and clearly drained, he radiates raw, untamed power that sends chills skittering down my spine.

Beside him stands Dare, his lean, muscular frame tightly coiled despite obvious fatigue. He’s all sharp angles and dangerously graceful movements, obsidian-black hair falling messily over his sharp, defined jawline. His stormy gray eyes search my face cautiously, assessing, wary, yet somehow pleading for something unspoken. Tattoos peek from beneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt, shadowy patterns crawling across his forearms, hinting at secrets I’m not yet privy to.

Fox stands slightly behind the other two, the quietest presence yet no less impactful. He’s slimmer than both Jex and Dare, built like a silent predator. Fox’s sandy-blond hair falls wildly across his forehead, framing soulful brown eyes that shimmer with exhaustion and quiet intensity. His handsome, angular face is wary, but his gaze remains steady on mine, silently begging forgiveness for their absence.

I stare openly, my mouth hanging unattractively open. “I...uh—Fallon, I stand corrected. I’ve gotta go.” I barely register Fallon’s shouted protest as I lower my phone and end the call with trembling fingers.

“Hello,” Jex finally murmurs, his voice a soft rumble, deep but strangely hesitant. He sways unsteadily on his feet, eyes hooded as he fights to stay upright.

“Come in,” I whisper, stepping aside without thinking. The three men shuffle past me silently, their powerful auras muted by exhaustion, collapsing onto my couch in an almost synchronized slump of relief.

My instincts kick into gear, and I dart into the kitchen, grabbing three bottles of cold water before rushing back. I hand them out quickly, heart hammering painfully in my chest.

Fox accepts his bottle gratefully, offering me a small, tired smile that warms me despite everything. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet wrapped in steel. He studies my anxious face and sighs, eyes gentle. “I know you must have questions—a lot of them. And we will answer every single one.” 

I nod numbly, hugging myself tightly as I watch them, relief, confusion, and uncertainty warring in my chest.

This had better be one hell of a good explanation.

Fox

May 17th

10:45 A.M

Violet St. James stands in front of us, barefoot and blinking, like we’ve just shown up in the middle of one of her nightmares—and we might have. She looks like she just rolled out of bed, and I can’t decide if I want to fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness, or drop dead from exhaustion right here on her doormat.

Her short purple curls are a chaotic, beautiful mess—tangled in a way that only happens after hours spent buried in a nest. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted in surprise, and her sharp blue eyes flick between us like we might disappear if she blinks too hard.

There’s no mistaking the emotions there—anger, confusion, maybe even fear—but beneath all of that, what cuts the deepest is the glint of hurt. It wraps around my throat like a noose. She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at us. And fuck, I think that silence might kill me.

She’s smaller than I remember. Not physically, but something about her posture, the way she’s holding herself. Like she’s had to learn how to brace against things. Like the space we were supposed to fill had been left cold for too long.

She’s wearing tiny sleep shorts that leave way too much bare skin and a loose black T-shirt sliding off one shoulder. I can see the faintest freckles scattered there—hers. A detail I didn’t know I needed until this moment. The shirt reads I like my coffee how I like my magic—dark and bitter, and I let out a breath of a laugh despite the crushing weight in my chest.

Of course, our mate would be soft and sharp all at once. Of course, she’d make heartbreak look like art.

And then I smell her. Lemon frosting. Sweet, sugary, comforting, and so very Omega. It hits me like a brick to the gut, curling in the air, thick with heat and something painfully real. That scent has haunted my memory for a month. I don’t realize how much I missed it until I’m half-sick with the need to get closer.

Beside me, Dare stiffens, his jaw tight. Jex exhales a sharp breath through his nose, fists clenched at his sides. We’re all on edge—every nerve frayed raw—but none of us move. We can’t. We’re barely standing, and we sure as hell haven’t earned the right to touch her.

I want to fall at her feet. I want to beg. I want her to look at us like we’re more than ghosts showing up too late.

But mostly—I want her to stop looking at us like we broke her.

“Hi,” I say, voice rough from disuse and regret. “You look...”

I almost say beautiful, but I don’t deserve to give her that right now. So instead, I swallow it.

“You look like you were sleeping.”

Brilliant, Fox. Fucking brilliant.

Violet’s silence stretches between us like razor wire—thin, taut, and ready to snap. Her piercing blue eyes flick between the three of us, sharp as glass, measuring everything we are, everything we’ve done… and everything we didn’t do.

Then, finally, she speaks.

“I have two questions.”

Her voice is calm—too calm. Like silk wrapped around steel, something delicate with the threat of blood beneath. Her arms cross tightly over her chest, pushing her breasts higher and framing her tension in a way that’s both distracting and devastating.

“One: Are you rejecting me?” she asks, tone clipped, each word delivered like a stone tossed into still water. “Because if you are, you can march right out of my house without another word.”

Jex jerks like she just landed a punch. His body goes stiff, his throat bobs with a hard swallow, and I see it—his instinct to drop to his knees and beg. Dare lets out a growl, low and vicious, like someone’s just threatened something sacred. And honestly? They have.

Me? I just sigh. Deep and tired. The kind of sigh that’s carved from bone-deep guilt and sleepless nights.

“No,” I say quietly, firmly. “Of course we’re not rejecting you. Not now, not ever. I swear to you, Violet—we had a damn good reason for what happened. But none of it… none of it was because we didn’t want you.”

She doesn’t budge, not really, but there’s a tiny shift in her shoulders. Just enough that I know she’s listening—even if she hasn’t decided whether or not she wants to forgive us yet.

“That brings me to question number two,” she says, voice clipped. “What the fuck happened?”

Even brimming with frustration, she’s radiant—her fire, her presence. I can’t stop my eyes from tracking the way her shirt clings to her breasts and the way those ridiculous shorts ride up her thighs. Exhaustion claws at me, but my cock still twitches because she’s here. Angry, glorious, real.

“It’s a long story,” I say, dragging a hand down my face, wishing I had more energy to shape it how she deserves to hear it.

She raises a single brow, unimpressed. “I’ve got time.”

With that, she turns her back on us and crosses the room. She curls herself into what looks like a nest-chair hybrid, all oversized cushions and soft throws. Of course, she’d claim the coziest, most defensible perch in the room. It suits her. Something tight and aching in my chest loosens at the sight.

I clear my throat. “We knew the second we walked into that building—you were ours. Not a maybe. Not a hope. A fact. You’re ours, Violet.”

My voice catches, so Dare picks up the thread.

“We had you ride back with the others because we needed to report in. It was protocol, and at the time… we couldn’t tell you who we worked for. It was confidential.” He exhales hard, like just saying it pulls something from his gut. “The plan was simple. Get in, report, shower, come find you. Kingston already gave us your name. Said you were one of their omegas’ best friends. We knew who you were.”

“We weren’t walking away,” Jex says, his voice low, eyes dark with memory. “We went to the building where we always debrief. Looked the same. Nothing felt off. But the second we were inside the room, the door locked behind us—and we were surrounded.”

My jaw tightens. The anger still simmers just beneath the surface, slow-burning. “They detained us,” I add, voice like gravel. “Said we’d gone rogue by helping the Rosetti pack. Called us liabilities. The higher-ups think Kingston and his people are running some underground crime syndicate.”

Violet makes a noise—part groan, part scream—and grabs the nearest pillow, whacking herself in the face with it before letting out a muffled yell into the fluff. I blink, not sure whether to laugh or duck.

“They aren’t mafia!” she shouts into the pillow.

She lifts her head and glares at us, eyes wide and fierce. “Insane, yes. Mafia, no.”

Despite everything—despite the guilt dragging me under—I can’t help the corner of my mouth from twitching. That’s our mate: her fury, sass, and absolute refusal to let anyone define her world for her.

She’s not backing down.

And that’s good. Because neither are we.

Chapter Two

Fox

May 17th

11:02 A.M

That tiny spark of amusement flickers in Violet’s eyes, and for the first time since she opened the door, I feel like I can breathe again. She’s still angry—rightfully so—but she’s not shutting down. She still wants to fight for this, for us.

I pick up the thread of the story, my voice rougher now, raw from days of silence and nights of regret. “They kept us locked up for weeks—question after question about our connection to the Rosetti pack, pushing us to give them anything. Names, routines, weaknesses. We gave them nothing.”

I swallow. “The only thing I told them… was that I was in foster care with the Rosetti boys.”

Violet’s expression softens, that sharp edge in her eyes easing just slightly. “I didn’t know that,” she murmurs, quiet, hesitant. “That you were in foster care with them.”

I wave it off. It’s not the part of the story that matters right now. “We didn’t get released. Not really. One night we went to sleep in a cell. Next thing we know, we wake up in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town.”

“No phone, no vehicle,” Dare mutters, voice low. “No fucking clue what just happened.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he adds, flashing Violet a wink, “but we may have stolen a car.”

Violet snorts, a real laugh bubbling up, and the sound settles something frantic in my chest.

But Jex doesn’t laugh. His hands flex against his knees, his whole body vibrating with rage just barely held in check. “They kept us from our mate for a month.” His voice is low and gravel-rough. “They stole that time from us.”

I look at her, and I mean it when I think: I’d kill them all to get that month back.

Violet watches us for a long moment, her lips pressed together, fingers absently trailing over the arm of the chair. Her scent shifts in the air—lemon frosting still sweet, but now touched with something thoughtful, something processing.

We’ve laid it out for her. All the broken pieces.

Now it’s her move.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says at last, unfolding her arms, her voice cool but laced with something sharper. “You helped the Rosetti pack rescue Fallon and a bunch of other omegas. In return, your employer locked you up, interrogated you for information on how Rosetti operates, and then—somehow—you were just… released?”

She raises a brow, skepticism curling her words like smoke.

Dare nods, jaw tight. “That’s the gist of it.”

Violet’s eyes flick to me, her smirk slowly returning. “Odette loves action thrillers. You pick up a thing or two.”

It shouldn’t make me smile. But it does.

“What are we missing?” Jex asks sharply, suspicion already catching in his voice.

“Share with the class,” Dare mutters.

I tilt my head, letting the pieces settle in my mind. “Let’s look at this logically,” I say slowly, spreading my hands. “Rosetti’s been hitting hold houses across the city—freeing omegas, dismantling their system piece by piece. Whether we meant to or not, we helped in one of those raids. But our employer? They didn’t just want to know what Rosetti was doing. They wanted to know how they were doing it. Where they’d strike next. What methods did they use?”

Dare’s eyes widen slightly, the realization catching up.

Violet’s voice is steady, calm in that terrifyingly capable way she has when she knows she’s onto something. “They’re not just investigating Rosetti,” she says. “They’re part of it. The kidnappings. The auctions. The whole damn system.”

Jex lets out a dark breath. “If we hadn’t already quit, we’d be quitting now.”

Her gaze locks onto Dare’s. “So… who exactly did you work for?”

Dare’s expression darkens, regret tightening the edges of his jaw. “That’s the fucked up part, Vi. We worked for the government.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

For a second, the room is dead silent.

Then Jex speaks, voice dry. “But why let us go?”

Violet answers before any of us can. “So you’d lead them straight to Rosetti.” Her voice is like ice, sharp and devastating. “Only… you fucked that part up.”

She smirks, and it’s beautiful. Fierce and a little smug and completely hers.

Then she softens, eyes dropping to the space between us.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says quietly.

And just like that, my world tilts back into place—fractured, but not broken. Not anymore.

Violet

May 17th

6:45 P.M

“Odette, please call me back.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I wince, gripping the phone tighter like that’ll somehow make her pick up. The voicemail timer ticks in mocking silence as I sit parked in my car, the quiet pressing in around me like a weighted blanket I can’t crawl out from under.

“She still isn’t answering,” I whisper into the void, even though I know she won’t hear it.

Henry told me she sent him home. Told him she didn’t need watching anymore.
Her mom said she’s still showing up for work and still keeping to her routine. So... she’s alive. Functioning. But functioning isn’t the same as okay.

And if something happened to her—if someone else got to her while I wasn’t paying attention—

I shove the thought down before it can finish forming. I don’t have the strength to deal with that spiral right now. Instead, I swipe over to my contacts and tap Fallon’s name, my eyes locked on my pack’s truck still parked in my driveway.

It’s stupid, but I stare at it like it might give me answers. Like if I look hard enough, the universe will throw me a goddamn bone.

The line picks up after one ring.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Fallon’s voice slides through the speaker, teasing and familiar, cutting through my dread like a blade of sunlight. It tugs a smile out of me before I can stop it.

“Flirting already? You’re not even drunk, and I haven’t fed you.”

“Low standards, remember?” she replies, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “I’m easy.”

I laugh, just once, before the weight settles back over me like a wave pulling tight. I swallow hard, my fingers curling around the steering wheel like I need the grounding.

“Fallon…” I pause. “We need to talk.”

Her tone shifts immediately, all the flirtation gone like a switch flipped.

“What’s going on?”

I close my eyes and drag a hand down my face, fingertips digging into the ache behind my eyes. Everything feels raw—my skin, my heart, my voice. “It’s… complicated,” I admit. “But I’ll give you the short version.”

I lay it out for her. The interrogation. The month of silence. The government connection. The fucked-up web that’s bigger than we ever realized.

“They were only supposed to debrief,” I say softly. “That’s what they told me. Just a check-in, and then they were coming back for me. Instead, they were detained. Cut off. Controlled.”

There’s a long pause on the line.

“They’ll just keep coming,” Fallon says at last, her voice distant and hollow, like she’s staring at something far away and ugly. “Even if we dismantle another hold house, they’ll rebuild somewhere else. Because the ones buying those omegas? They’re protected. Hidden behind the same people claiming to keep us safe.”

“That’s exactly it,” I murmur, my fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel. “I thought you needed to know, Fallon. Because whoever’s behind this... they don’t care that we’ve started to unravel it. They’re not going to stop.”

“We need to shut the auctions down. Expose them.” Her voice dips lower, half to herself, like she’s already calculating every move. “Thanks for telling me,” she says a moment later, heavier now. “But if you think I’m just going to sit back and let them get away with this, you clearly don’t know me as well as you think, Vi.”

I snort, the sound a little sharp from the tension still wired through my body. “Oh, I knew you were gonna say that. Just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Are you coming back to Chicago soon?” I ask, leaning my head against the steering wheel, the phone still pressed tight to my ear.

“As soon as I can. I’ve got a few things to wrap up here, but once I’m done—I’m on the first flight out.”

There’s a pause. And then her voice drops, low and lethal.

“And when I get there? We tear down every last one of those bastards.”

A slight chill prickles over my skin.

“Good,” I say, and this time my voice is solid, the steel starting to return. “Because if they think they can keep doing this and walk away clean... they’re dead wrong.”

I step out of the car and head toward the house, keys jangling in one hand, the other tugging my jacket tighter around my body. If I didn’t have to leave today, I probably wouldn’t have. Honestly, I would’ve just stayed curled up in the nest like a gremlin avoiding the world and all its emotional chaos.

But an omega’s gotta eat.

And unfortunately, food doesn’t magically appear in my fridge without a paycheck or summoning spell. (Trust me, I’ve checked.)

So I went to work. I lost myself in the blank canvas, letting the brush drag and swirl and bleed out every ugly thought clouding my head. The frustration. The guilt. The aching confusion that still lingers even though they’re back. Every color screamed louder than I could.

At least my omega seems content now. She practically purrs when I think about them—about their hands, their voices, their heat. The hussy.

I pause just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The low murmur of voices drifts through the hallway, and I recognize Jex’s deep, velvety tone, quieter than usual.

“I just… I want to give her everything she could possibly need.”

The words hit me square in the chest.

My breath catches, a soft ache blooming behind my ribs. There’s no bravado in his voice. No calculated charm. Just raw, aching sincerity. It wraps around something wounded in me and holds tight, refusing to let go.

God, these men might destroy me in an entirely new way.

I straighten and round the corner before I lose my nerve, stepping into the kitchen doorway with all the casual confidence I can muster—even if my insides feel like glitter in a blender.

Three pairs of eyes snap toward me, and my breath stutters just a little.

Amber. Storm gray. Deep, molten brown.

All locked on me like I just walked out of their dreams—or maybe one of mine.

Fox’s eyes drop instantly to my legs, the black fishnets clinging like a second skin beneath the hem of my tight dark purple pencil skirt. Combat boots thud softly with each step, grounding me even as their gazes send heat spiraling low in my belly.

Dare’s stare lingers on the curve of my hips, the way the fabric hugs every dip and rise, and the tiny black cropped sweater that flashes just enough skin to count as a threat.

And Jex—sweet, strong Jex—he’s looking at my face. Like he didn’t expect me to hear him. Like he’s halfway to unraveling and terrified I’ll pull the last thread.

God, they’re all stupidly gorgeous.

And if I wasn’t slicking up my thighs before, I definitely am now.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I drawl, leaning against the doorframe like a walking sin and a half. I toss my curls back for dramatic flair, even as my cheeks burn under their full-attention gaze. “You three having fun gossiping about me?”

Fox’s lips twitch, his mouth curling into a slow, devastating smirk. He looks like he’s seconds from either pinning me to the counter or feeding me a line I won’t be able to walk away from.

“Only good things,” he says, voice like rich velvet, deep, low, and so unfairly hot. “Promise.”

I arch a brow, all teasing challenge as I shift my gaze to Jex, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me once. That warm amber stare holds me in place, intense and unflinching, and despite my best efforts at bravado, my pulse stutters under the weight of it.

“Hmm,” I hum, letting my voice drag slow and smoky. “Very good things, I gathered.” My eyes drift down his frame, deliberate and unapologetic, lingering over the broad line of his shoulders, the way his shirt clings to his chest. “And trust me,” I add, the words curling sweet and sharp, “very appreciated.”

Jex’s lips pull into a slow, satisfied smile—the kind that makes my insides twist and heat all at once. “Good to hear, sweetheart. Maybe you come a little closer and tell us exactly how appreciated.”

I push off the doorframe, laughing softly as I strut forward with exaggerated ease. My voice is dipped in velvet and sass. “Careful what you wish for, big guy. You might not be ready.”

Fox lets out a low chuckle, deep and delicious, and I swear I feel it echo in my spine. Dare’s grinning now too, eyes lit up like he’s watching a game he fully intends to win.

“Oh, we’re ready,” Dare drawls, voice all heat and challenge.

I pause just inches away from them, lifting my chin in mock defiance. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Jex visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening as the tension he’s carried since stepping into my house finally starts to ease. His smile grows softer for a breath—just a flicker of boyish charm beneath the Alpha heat—before he narrows his eyes again, pinning me with a look that could melt steel.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice firm, “why is your kitchen void of food?”

I cringe, shoulders hitching, caught red-handed. I already know there’s no winning this one.

“Okay,” I say, trying for sweet and innocent and probably landing somewhere closer to guilty raccoon. “Trust me, you don’t want me to cook. Like… ever. I’ve managed to burn a pot of water. Twice.”

Dare bursts into full-blown laughter, bright and rich, the sound wrapping around me like a blanket. Before I can make another quip, he grabs my waist and tugs me into his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I squeak, unprepared for the sudden closeness, but gods—he’s warm. He smells like bourbon and cinnamon and something darker, something safe.

Then something weird happens.

A low noise slips from my throat—soft, unfamiliar, embarrassingly animal.

Did I just purr?

I freeze, eyes wide, heart skipping. Did I seriously just…?

The sound cuts off immediately, my brain short-circuiting with confusion and horror.

Can omegas purr? What the actual hell was that?

But Dare doesn’t seem surprised. If anything, he grins, leans in—and starts purring back.

It’s a different kind of sound. Deep. Steady. Resonant. I feel it more than hear it, a low vibration rumbling through his chest and into mine. And then I catch their scents—Fox’s calming sage and saltwater, Jex’s warm espresso and dark chocolate. They mix with Dare’s heat, wrapping around my lemon frosting scent like they were meant to be together.

The effect is dizzying.

My muscles melt. Every knot of tension I’ve been carrying slips loose as I collapse into him, my face burying instinctively into his chest. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and finally, finally, I can exhale.

“Thank you,” I mumble into his shirt, voice muffled and more raw than I’d like. The words tumble out without permission, soft and honest and terrifying.

Dare presses a kiss to the top of my head—gentle, reverent—and something in me cracks wide open. I didn’t know how much I needed this. How empty I’d gotten without it.

I didn’t realize how touch-starved I’d become until now.

Usually, when things got too heavy, I’d curl up with Fallon or Odette—tangled limbs and whispered sarcasm until the world felt softer. But Fallon has her pack now, all growly affection and possessive warmth. And Odette… Odette’s been dodging me.

Every call goes to voicemail. Every text is answered with clipped can’t talk right now replies that sting far more than I want to admit.

It’s like she’s slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to reach her.

I don’t even realize I’m frowning until Jex’s voice wraps around me, low and velvety, grounding me.

“How about we go out and grab dinner?” he offers. “And on the way, we can get some actual groceries.”

I glance up, craning my neck to meet his gaze—gods, he’s tall. Big in the kind of way that makes you want to climb him like a tree and thank him for existing. And despite everything… he still looks at me like I matter. Like I’m his.

I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, Dare reluctantly releases me.

Only for Fox to immediately steal me away, tugging me back against him like I belong there.

My back presses to his chest, his arms wrapping around me with unshakable certainty. I huff, but don’t bother trying to wriggle away.

“Wouldn’t you guys be more comfortable at your house?” I ask, not unkindly.

Fox leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “We want to be where you are, doll,” he murmurs, voice like smoke and honey. “But would you want to come to our house?”

I freeze, tension creeping in like frost around the edges.

That’s the real question, isn’t it?

Not where they want to be—but where I feel safe. Where I feel ready.

Slowly, I shake my head. My voice is quieter when I speak again. “I still don’t know you. Not enough. I’m not comfortable with that yet.”

The air shifts—charged, uncertain—and for a second, I brace myself for pushback.

But it never comes.

Jex nods, his smile gentle. No pressure. No disappointment. Just… space.

“How about we compromise?” I offer, glancing between them. “Let’s order in.”

Fox presses a kiss to the top of my head, lingering there like a promise, his breath warm against my hair.

“Sounds perfect, doll,” he whispers.

And for the first time in a long time… it almost feels like things are settling into place.

Violet

May 17th

7:40 P.M

The living room smells like takeout and comfort—garlic knots, greasy pizza, and three towering alphas who are currently shouting at the television like it personally offended them.

“This idiot deserves to die,” I say, pointing a slice of pepperoni pizza at the screen as the blonde girl slowly backs toward the dark basement stairs. “Who goes toward the creepy noise? In heels?”

“She deserves a better flashlight,” Fox mutters around a mouthful of crust. “That thing looks like it was made in the ‘90s.”

“It’s always the basement,” Jex groans, flopping back against the couch like this entire movie has betrayed him on a spiritual level. “Why is it always the basement? I swear if I ever hear a noise like that—”

“You’re going first,” I cut in, smirking as I pop a bite of crust into my mouth. “Alphas first.”

Dare barks out a laugh, nearly choking on his soda. “Alphas first, huh? Is that the rule now?”

I shoot him a sweet smile. “Look, I’ve seen how big you guys are. If the monster gets one of you first, I’ve got at least five seconds to run.”

Fox shakes his head, fighting a grin. “Ruthless.”

“I prefer strategic.”

Jex grunts, eyeing me from the other end of the couch, legs stretched out like a king surveying his chaotic kingdom. “You’d make a damn good villain.”

“Please,” I say with mock outrage, tossing a napkin at him. “I’d be the final girl. I’ve got just the right amount of trauma and snark to survive.”

Dare raises a brow. “You’re assuming we’d let you go in alone.”

“You think I’d let you stop me?” I challenge, and that earns me three different looks—fond, amused, and something that’s almost reverent.

The pizza box is nearly empty now, only a few lonely slices left, and I’m tucked between Fox and Jex on the couch while Dare’s sprawled on the floor in front of us, leaned back against my legs like a smug human heater. One of Jex’s arms is draped lazily across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the ends of my curls. Fox has a plate balanced on his thigh and one hand wrapped protectively around my ankle like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I don’t even know when I stopped guarding myself—but I realize I haven’t tensed in hours.

No edge. No fight. Just… this.

Laughter, warmth, the brush of knuckles and knee and cheek, the press of their presence all around me.

I sip my soda and glance at the screen just as the killer lunges from the shadows, blade gleaming.

“See?” I yell, jabbing a finger. “Should’ve stayed upstairs, Karen!”

“Damn it, Karen,” all three of them mutter in unison, and I burst out laughing so hard I nearly spill my drink.

Chapter Three

Dare

May 20th

2:45 A.M

I lay in bed, arms crossed behind my head, staring at the ceiling like the answers to my restlessness might be written in the shadows.

Sleep isn’t coming. Not tonight.

I’m bone-deep exhausted—my muscles ache, my mind feels like it’s been run through a grinder—but none of it matters. My instincts won’t settle. Not when she’s down the hall.

Our omega.

The past few days feel like a dream—the kind you don't want to wake up from. The kind where everything feels a little too perfect, and part of you is waiting for the fall.

We've spent every moment we could learning her—her likes, her edges, her tells. Every word from her lips has a bite to it, a twist of sass, but there’s always something soft underneath. Something real.

Violet St. James.

Sharp-tongued, sweet-hearted, and completely capable of knocking me on my ass with one look.

She’s the kind of woman who’ll insult your haircut with a straight face and then turn around and offer you the last piece of garlic bread without blinking. Fiercely independent, a little reckless, and still soft in those quiet ways that make something in my chest ache.

She challenges us. Makes us work for every inch of trust. And gods, I love it. Every sharp remark, every arched brow, every time she bites her lip like she’s debating whether or not to let us in—it all makes me want to fight harder. To be better.

To prove we’re worth it.

And she’s so fucking talented.

The way she talks about her art—it’s not just a job, it’s part of her. She told us about her commissions, how people wait months for a piece, how her inbox fills faster than she can paint. She sells her work online but has a studio, too. A space ten minutes from her house that’s all hers. Where she disappears for hours. Where she gets quiet and focused and alive.

And the way she lights up when she talks about it…

God.

Her eyes sparkle like she’s seeing things none of us could imagine, her hands moving in the air as she tries to explain her process, even though she doesn’t need to. I could watch her talk about art for hours. That soft, proud smile she wears when she mentions finishing a piece? It wrecks me in the best fucking way.

She loves what she does. You can feel it radiating off her. Her scent goes stronger—richer—sweet lemon frosting warming the air like sugar on a flame.

And I want to see it. Not just the art. Her. In her element. In her space. Dressed down and covered in streaks of paint, bare feet on canvas-dotted floors, eyebrows furrowed in that way she does when she’s focused too hard to notice she’s smiling.

That thought sends a wave of something through my chest. Hot. Heavy. Possessive.

I want to know every version of Violet St. James.

The sharp, sarcastic brat who flips us off when we flirt too hard. The shy, sweet omega who softens under praise and leans into touch like she hasn’t had it in years. The artist who loses herself in color and movement and gives the world pieces of her soul and calls it brushwork.

And the version she hides—the one who wants to let us in, even when she’s too afraid to say it.

I shift, glancing toward the other side of the room. Fox is out cold, breathing slow and steady, one arm tucked under his head like he’s been in the same position for hours. Jex is stretched out on the opposite bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, but I can tell from the way his chest rises and falls that he’s awake.

None of us have said it. Not out loud.

But we’re gone for her. Drowning. And I don’t think any of us want to come up for air.

And gods, my dick—it’s been half-hard for three days straight. Doesn’t matter how many cold showers I take or how many times I tell myself to get it together. It’s like my body knows before my brain does.

She’s it. She’s ours.

The barely-there sound of shifting glass—soft, delicate, but wrong—has my instincts snapping to attention.

A beat later, the muted creak of a floorboard.

My body moves before my mind fully catches up. I sit up fast, muscles locking into place, breath slowing as my adrenaline kicks in hard. Jex is already moving; his steps are silent and fluid, like smoke and violence wrapped in one. He disappears into the shadows beside the dresser without a sound.

Fox rolls smoothly off the mattress, landing in a crouch. His pistol is already in hand, aimed at the door, steady and sure.

I don’t hesitate.

My fingers close around the hilt of the knife I keep stashed between the mattress and frame—cool steel grounding me as a lifetime of training takes over. My heartbeat slows, and everything narrows down to focus, threat, and defense.

If Violet were awake… we’d know.

She mutters when she moves around. Grumbles about cold floors. Yells at her socks. Sometimes narrates entire imaginary conversations with her coffee maker.

But this? This silence?

It doesn’t belong to her.

A faint, deliberate tap against the bedroom door makes every muscle in my body tense. Fox shifts his weight, steadying his aim, finger hovering just above the trigger.

And then the door opens.

Just a crack. A sliver of dim hallway light spilling into the room.

Violet slips through like a shadow, barefoot and silent, her expression calm—but sharp. She closes the door behind her with practiced care, her eyes sweeping the room, finding all three of us in an instant.

I exhale through my nose, relief hitting me like a sucker punch. Jex straightens just a little. Fox lowers his weapon—only slightly.

She glances at the gun, then at our stances, and lifts her fingers to flash three at us. Her other hand dips to her hip, and I catch a glimpse of steel in the dim light—a knife tucked into the waistband of her sleep shorts.

She ties the oversized shirt she’s wearing into a knot at her lower back, exposing her stomach, her thighs, her intent.

She’s not here to hide.

She’s here to fight.

And fuck, my heart does something I can’t name.

Fox steps forward and gently pushes on her head, guiding her lower and motioning her to crouch. She obeys with a tight nod, her eyes still scanning the room, sharp and focused.

We don’t speak. We don’t need to. She’s telling us something—three intruders, living room, moving quietly. And she’s ready to take them down with us.

Goddamn. Our girl is terrifying.

And I’ve never wanted her more.

My cock twitches in response to the sight of her crouched there like some feral dream, blade in hand and eyes sharp enough to cut. But I shove it down. Lock it away. Now’s not the time.

Even if I am half in love with my mate and wholly fucking obsessed. If anyone out there so much as breathes wrong in her direction, they’re going to learn exactly how bad of a fucking idea that is. Violet doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Her grip on that knife is solid, and her knuckles pale around the hilt like she was born for this. Her blue eyes flick between the three of us—alert, focused, waiting for our lead.

Fox goes first, silent as breath, pressing his ear to the door, one hand loose at his side, the other still gripping his gun. Jex takes the opposite side, a shadow despite the size of him, his frame shifting with surgical control. I hang back, eyes locked on Violet, giving her a single, silent order: stay put.

She nods once, lips tight, chest rising slow and steady. But her fingers tighten around the blade, and her scent sharpens—lemon frosting over fire.

My omega.

And right now, there’s nothing soft about her.

Fury coils in my chest like a live wire, buzzing hot under my skin—but I keep it locked down. Controlled. Useful.

This isn’t the time to rage.

This is the time to end the threat.

Jex lifts two fingers. The signal. One smooth breath, and we move.

Fox goes first—fluid, precise. His bare feet were silent on the floor. The first guy never stands a chance. He’s got his back to us, weapon raised, trained on Violet’s bedroom door. The second he shifts his weight, Fox is on him. One brutal twist of his wrist, and the gun clatters to the floor, harmless.

The man doesn’t get to cry out. Fox slams his knee into his ribs, drives a fist into the side of his head. He crumples instantly, unconscious before he hits the ground.

The second one reacts fast—too fast for most. But not for Jex.

They collide with the force of a dropped wrecking ball. The man throws a punch, sharp and well-aimed, but Jex doesn’t flinch. He catches it midair, wrenches the guy’s arm in a way no joint should bend, and flips him onto his back with a sickening thud. There’s a crack—a groan. The man doesn’t get up again.

The third man is the danger. He’s bigger. Smarter. Faster. His weapon swings up with terrifying control, aimed clean at the hallway.

Violet.

I don’t think. I move. I lunge, grabbing the barrel, jerking it up just as the silenced shot rips past my ear. The sound is nothing—just a breath of sound—but it still sends my blood screaming. I drive my elbow into his face. Cartilage crunches. Blood gushes. He staggers, but this one doesn’t drop. He fights. We grapple, the hallway too narrow, too tight. He swings, and I duck, my blade biting deep into his side. He grunts, rage thick in the sound. He’s still holding the gun, but he’s off-balance.

I slam my knee into his stomach. Again. Again. When he buckles, I hit him square in the throat. His breath chokes off. He collapses, gasping. One more punch to the side of the head, and he’s out. Fox and Jex are already restraining the others. Fast. Efficient. One man groans low, the other is unconscious. We use their own cuffs, twist them tight. Blood smears the floor. Someone’s bleeding hard.

Probably the one Jex slammed like a sledgehammer. Jex plants a boot between the man’s shoulder blades and snarls, “You picked the wrong fucking house.”

Fox wipes his blade on the guy’s vest and exhales, the tension in his shoulders barely easing. “We need answers. But I think it’s safe to say they weren’t here to deliver a fruit basket.”

I roll my jaw, then swipe my sleeve across my mouth, smearing sweat and blood. I turn and head back to the bedroom.

The second the door creaks open, I see her. Violet hasn’t moved. Still crouched, still ready, blade in hand. Eyes alert, expression unreadable. Her chest rises and falls slow and steady—controlled. Focused.

“It’s clear,” I say softly.

She exhales, pushing to her feet, but doesn’t relax. Doesn’t sheath her knife either.

That’s my girl.

She steps into the hallway and sees them—the three restrained intruders on her living room floor. One unconscious. Two bleeding. All handled. Her gaze sweeps over them, then up to the bullet hole in the wall. Her expression doesn’t change. But then she tilts her head. Lifts one brow. “Well,” she says, dry as the desert, “that was fucking rude.”

My body stutters between a laugh and a groan, and I move on instinct—wrapping her in my arms, hauling her close, crushing her against me like I’ll never get enough.

“You’re unreal,” I murmur against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She still smells like lemon frosting and fury—sweet and sharp, sunshine wrapped in switchblades—my favorite combination.

She sighs against me, the tension in her shoulders finally giving in as she melts into my chest. Her knife is still in one hand, but the edge of her cheek brushes against my skin, soft and warm. The slight motion—barely there—is instinctive, like she’s grounding herself in touch.

My purr rumbles to life before I can stop it, low and deep in my chest. It vibrates between us, and I feel her melt. She’s safe now.

I tighten my arms around her, just a bit. Protective. Possessive. Grateful. Over her shoulder, I spot Fox leaning against the wall, his pistol now holstered but his body still tense, still watching. His eyes are on Violet, and they’re soft in a way that’s rare for him, but also trained right at her bare legs. I notice the way he subtly shifts his stance, adjusting himself with a grimace that makes me smirk.

I am in the same boat, to be honest.

He catches my look and flips me off without breaking eye contact, but there’s no heat in it—just that shared, silent language between brothers. I mouth, suffer, and his eyes narrow in return. Jex huffs a quiet breath nearby, clearly biting back a laugh of his own.

Violet makes a soft, curious sound and pulls back just far enough to glance up at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say smoothly, brushing a knuckle down the curve of her jaw. “Just enjoying the view.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets herself lean in again, cheek resting right over my heart. And I swear, for one perfect second, everything goes still.

Violet

May 20th

3:10 A.M

Men broke into my house. My house. Armed men. I am both furious and absolutely fucking terrified.

If my mates hadn’t been here… I swallow the thought down before it can fully form because I know exactly what would have happened. These men weren’t here to scare me. They weren’t here to steal my stuff.

They came to kill me.

The realization sits heavy in my chest, cold and sharp. My hands tremble slightly as I glance around, my gaze landing on my back door. A pane of glass is missing, a jagged hole where they must’ve slipped inside.

My breathing is too fast, my pulse hammering at the inside of my skull, but I force myself to move forward. I won’t let them see fear.

One of the men still groans on the floor, his body twisted awkwardly where Jex and Dare left him after the fight. I crouch beside him, tilting my head as I twirl the knife in my grip. Then I tap the flat side against his cheek, coaxing his dazed eyes open until we’re eye to eye.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to break things in someone else’s house?” I ask, voice light, almost conversational.

Dare snorts out a quiet laugh, and I hear Fox mutter something under his breath, but before I can press further, Jex loops an arm around my waist and hauls me back against him. I stiffen at first, but then I breathe him in—dark espresso and chocolate, rich and grounding—and my pulse slows.

I am safe.

For now.

Fox crouches by the two other men, both still slumped over. With a sharp slap to the cheek, he rouses the first one, and when that doesn’t work, he grabs the second by the collar of his tactical vest and gives him a rough shake.

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers.”

The groggy one coughs, his head lolling as he blinks awake. His eyes sharpen the second he takes in the room, flicking between Jex, Dare, and Fox. Then they land on me.

And something like recognition flickers in them. Not because he knows me, but because he knows them. “Well, shit,” the guy mutters, voice gravelly. He looks at Fox and snorts. “They said you defected. Didn’t think it was true.”

Fox tilts his head, unimpressed. “And yet here you are. In my mate’s house. Uninvited.” 

The man doesn’t reply, his mouth pressing into a thin line, but the second guy—the one Fox slapped awake—scoffs. “Didn’t think you three would be stupid enough to turn your backs on the people who made you.” 

Jex growls low in his throat, and I feel the way his grip tightens around my waist. Dare steps forward, crouching beside Fox. “We left because we saw exactly what kind of people they are. Looks like they haven’t changed.”

The first man lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? You think leaving was a choice? You think they’d just let you walk?”

Fox grabs his chin roughly, forcing him to look at him. “Then why send you here?”

The man sneers, but Fox doesn’t let go. Doesn’t let him dodge the question. Finally, after a long, tense pause, the guy spits out, “Because your boss put a kill order on her.”

The room goes silent. My breath stalls in my throat, a cold weight pressing into my chest. Jex goes completely still behind me, his hold tightening just enough to keep me from stepping forward. Dare’s jaw ticks, and Fox…

Fox barely reacts. He exhales slowly, then leans in close.

“See, that’s where you fucked up,” he murmurs. “Because now, we have a problem.”

The man glares at him. “You think this stops with us? You think taking us out will change anything? If you let us go, we will come back. And if we don’t? Someone else will. Over and over again until the job is done.” A sick feeling curls in my stomach.

Fox releases his grip, standing slowly. His face is unreadable, but his body is coiled with something dark, something violent. Jex shifts behind me, speaking for the first time. “We can’t let them go.” The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

I swallow, my throat tight. “You mean—”

Dare cuts in, voice steady but firm. “If we turn them in, their boss will buy them out. They’ll walk free and come right back. At least we know they can’t send the best after her. Since you know we are the best.” He throws me a wink. I almost smile. 

The gravity of the situation sinks in, deep and heavy. I stare down at the three men, at their expressions—hardened, resigned. They knew what they signed up for. There is no running from this. No locking them up and hoping for the best.

It’s them.

Or me.

Fox watches me carefully, his sharp blue-gray eyes taking in every flicker of emotion across my face. “You don’t have to be involved in this part, doll,” he murmurs, softer now. “But you need to understand—this doesn’t end until they do.”

I tighten my grip on my knife. My pulse pounds. I want to be sick. I want to scream. But more than that— 

I want to live.

I meet Fox’s eyes. “Then do what needs to be done.”

Chapter Four

Violet

May 20th

10:12 A.M

Their house is nothing like I thought it would be.

Not even close.

If you'd asked me to guess, I would've painted something sleek and cold—a modern fortress of steel and glass perched on a cliffside, all straight lines, chrome, and the kind of tight-lipped security that made you feel like even thinking about touching something would get you detained. I imagined a sterile interior with polished floors, with no warmth, the kind of place designed to intimidate and impress, but never actually feel like I lived in it.

Instead… this.

We’re parked at the end of a winding dirt road, the world around us swallowed by a dense forest of towering trees. The scent of earth is thick in the air—wet moss, fallen leaves, and cool wind cutting through the branches like a whispered warning. It’s wild out here. Remote. Untouched. Like something out of a dream or an old forgotten memory.

I didn’t even know Chicago had places like this. We must be on the outskirts.

It feels like we’ve slipped through some invisible curtain—left the noise and chaos behind and stepped into a world where nothing and no one can reach us: a sanctuary or a trap. I haven’t decided which yet.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I step out of the truck, a quiet sound swallowed by the stillness of the woods. My eyes lift slowly, tracing the full height of the structure in front of me.

Calling it a house feels wrong.

It’s too solid, too intentional. This isn’t a house. It’s a home built to keep people safe.

The exterior is a mixture of dark gray stone and aged wood, the kind that looks like it’s survived storms and time and maybe even war. It’s beautiful in a rugged, unapologetic way. The wraparound porch wraps wide around the front, heavy wooden beams supporting the roof like old sentinels. There’s a pair of rocking chairs near the front door, both worn and faded from use. One has a soft throw blanket folded neatly over the back. The sight of it knocks something loose in my chest. It’s not just the structure. It’s the intention.

Someone lives here.

Someone rocks in those chairs and watches the trees move with the wind. Someone folds that blanket and sets it out for when the air turns cold. It’s a place meant to be returned to, not just locked up when the job is done.

Warm yellow light spills out from behind the thick front windows, muted by heavy curtains pulled halfway open. It gives the illusion of a flickering fireplace or soft lamps—nothing too harsh. Nothing is designed for appearances.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to quiet the sudden ache building low in my stomach. I’ve never wanted to belong to a place the way I suddenly want to belong to this one.

But wanting something doesn’t mean you’ll get it.

So I swallow the lump forming in my throat, shove my hands deeper into the pockets of my purple shorts. I steel myself against the warmth that’s already threatening to pull me under.

This house may feel like safety.

But safety has never come without a cost.

Fox, Jex, and Dare move around me with the kind of fluid ease that only comes from repetition—like they’ve done this before, unpacked and relocated a thousand times. And maybe they have. But this time… It’s my stuff they’re carrying. My life in bags. My chaos in boxes. My future, hanging somewhere between hope and hesitation.

Fox is the first to hop down from the truck bed, landing light on his feet despite his size. His brown eyes sweep across the tree line, a habit, I think, before flicking toward me. Normally, his gaze carries the sharp edge of someone constantly assessing threats. But out here, surrounded by towering pines and open sky, something in him has softened. He’s still dangerous—but now he looks like he chooses to be.

He reaches in and pulls out my suitcase with barely a grunt, followed by my duffel. “Your stuff isn’t heavy,” he calls over his shoulder, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, “but I swear you’ve packed more paint than actual clothes.”

I roll my eyes but can’t hold back the smile that sneaks through. “An artist’s gotta be prepared. You never know when inspiration might strike.” I hesitate, just a beat. “Especially since I’m not sure my studio is… safe anymore.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, but he doesn’t press.

Jex is next, sliding out of the truck with that slow, deliberate grace that shouldn’t belong to a man his size. His black hair is pulled back into a low tie, exposing the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark stubble lining it. His amber eyes sweep over the bags like he’s calculating their weight and dimensions. Then he grabs two of them in one hand like they’re paper light and turns to me.

“Need anything special set up for your studio space?” His voice is smooth, low—like velvet wrapped around stone. It rolls over me and sinks deep, like it’s not just a question, but a promise.

My mouth opens… but words fail me. “Uh, what?”

He raises a brow, the barest curve of his lips letting me know he heard the edge of panic in my voice. “Studio,” he repeats. “Violet, we want this to be your home as much as it is ours. You need a studio, we’ll make one. Simple.”

Gods above.

If my legs weren’t already trembling, that might’ve done it. I blink at him, then manage, “Just a room with decent lighting and space. And, um… hopefully not carpeted. Paint and carpet are mortal enemies.”

He nods like I’ve handed him a checklist and he’s already figured out the first ten steps. “Done. We’ve got a couple of options. I’ll show you after we get you settled.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat catching me off guard. They're serious. They want me here. Comfortable. At ease. Home.

I don’t know what to do with that. I mean, I knew this is how packs are supposed to be. This is what I wanted. But knowing and experiencing are two vastly different things.

Dare climbs out last, slower, more measured than the others. His storm grey eyes track every shift in my posture, every flicker of emotion across my face. I can feel it; it is quiet attention. The way he’s already trying to read what I’m not saying.

His dark hair is tousled from the drive, a lock falling across his brow. He lets it stay. There’s something unguarded about him in this moment, even though I know he’s anything but unguarded.

“If you hate it,” he says, casual but firm, “we’ll find something else.”

He hefts the last two bags over his shoulder, not even breaking eye contact.

“I’ll buy a whole different house if that’s what it takes.”

The scent of bourbon wafts toward me—warm, grounding, familiar now. It wraps around my nerves and calms them instantly, even as his words hit me square in the chest.

“What—no,” I laugh, almost startled. “This house is beautiful. It’s perfect.”

And it is. Which is the problem?

Because I’m still standing here, useless, while three lethal alphas—my alphas—carry my belongings like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like they’re glad to do it. I feel dumb that I wasn’t expecting this.

The inside of the house hits me like a soft breath after a storm—unexpected and warm in a way I hadn’t prepared myself for.

It matches the rugged elegance of the exterior, but still somehow surprises me. The entryway opens into a wide living room with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams that stretch like old bones overhead. A massive stone fireplace anchors the space, dominating the far wall like a protective sentinel. It looks like it could swallow a grown man whole, and part of me wonders how many winters it’s seen, how many nights they’ve spent curled around it, waiting out the world.

The walls are painted in deep, earthy tones—charcoal grays, warm browns, and muted greens that calm the noise in my head. Thick, dark wood furniture fills the room—not modern or flashy, but solid, reliable. The kind of furniture that’s meant to last.

But it’s the little things that make my chest ache.

A well-worn pair of boots kicked off by the front door. A half-read book resting open on the arm of a leather chair. A cozy blanket—soft and inviting—draped across the back of the couch like someone had just left it there a moment ago.

And it smells like them.

Espresso. Sage. Bourbon.

The scent wraps around me like a blanket, seeping into my lungs and settling into my bones. My omega stirs, purring quietly under my skin. I ignore her. Barely.

“How about a tour?” Jex asks, his voice gentle, his smile softer than I’ve ever seen it.

He gestures toward the living room as he steps ahead of me. “Main gathering area. Fireplace works like a charm. Couches are basically made for napping. Just don’t sit in Fox’s chair unless you’re ready for a dramatic monologue.”

Fox snorts from behind me. “Hey, if she wants the chair, she gets the chair. Just don’t drool on it.”

I roll my eyes as my sneakers scuff softly along the hardwood floors, the sound echoing faintly in the vast space. “You act like I’m some slobbering beast. I’m perfectly housebroken, thank you very much.”

Fox grins. “That remains to be seen.”

They lead me into the kitchen, and if the living room made my heart flutter, the kitchen stops it entirely. Gleaming countertops stretch out beneath rows of dark wood cabinets. The fridge is massive—industrial-sized stainless steel like the ones you see on cooking shows—and my mouth actually drops open a little.

Dare catches my reaction and smirks. “We like to eat. That’s fully stocked with whatever you want. If there’s something missing, we’ll get it.”

The idea of living here still feels surreal. Like I’m trespassing in someone else’s dream. But the way they’re watching me—not pushing, just hoping—keeps tugging me deeper.

“Got it,” I murmur. “Food. Good.”

Fox chuckles and tilts his head toward the hallway off the main space. “Come on, doll. We’re just getting started.”

The tour continues—room by room, hallway by hallway—until my brain is spinning from how much space there is. A gym that looks like it belongs to a professional training facility. A game room with a pool table, darts, and a massive flat-screen TV. Everything feels lived-in. Touched. Comfortable. But never once pretentious.

Then Jex pushes open a door near the end of the hall, and the world seems to stop.

The room is… breathtaking.

Spacious, but not cold. The walls are painted in soft, moody hues—deep navy and cream. The hardwood floors gleam, but they’re partially covered by thick rugs in plush textures and earthy colors. Pillows line the corners in gentle stacks, as if waiting for someone to come curl up and stay. The light from the bay window is warm and filtered, catching tiny flecks of dust that shimmer like gold in the quiet.

My heart stutters in my chest.

“There’s the Omega Suite,” Jex says quietly.

Fox leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually over his chest. “We planned for every possibility. If you told us to fuck off, this room would’ve stayed empty. But if you stayed… we wanted you to have a space that was yours. Somewhere safe. Somewhere to build your nest.”

His voice is so steady. So unflinchingly sincere, it knocks the air right out of me.

“There’s a bathroom too,” Jex adds, nodding toward a second door. “Double sinks. Rainfall shower. Soaking tub. I think Fox threatened to live in it when we moved in.”

I step forward, legs shaking slightly as I peek into the bathroom. It’s stunning. The tiles are dark slate and soft gray, the fixtures gleaming. Soft lighting makes the whole space glow, and shelves are already stocked with fluffy towels and vanilla-scented soap.

“You can change anything,” Jex says. “We’ll get whatever you need. If you want to move it, strip it, repaint it—hell, burn it down and start over—we’ll make it happen.”

I turn slowly, my throat thick, my hands curled into fists at my sides.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” My voice cracks around the words. “I could just bring my nest from home—”

“Let us provide this for you,” Dare cuts in gently, his voice low and full of warmth. “Please. It’s not about the space, Violet. It’s about you. This is what you deserve. And our alphas want nothing less.”

I stare at him, then Jex, then Fox.

Each of them is watching me with something achingly open in their expressions. Not expectation. Not pressure.

Hope.

Slowly, I nod. “Okay. I can do that.”

Something eases in the room, like an invisible breath being held, and finally exhales. Jex’s shoulders drop. Fox lets out a low hum of approval. Dare steps closer, hand brushing against mine for just a second.

“Good,” Fox says, his usual smirk returning like a sunbeam slipping through the clouds. “Now let’s finish the tour before you start crying and blame it on us.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me.

They show me the rest of the house—each of their bedrooms, another guest room, and finally a cozy den tucked into the back corner, bookshelves lining every wall. One last room catches my breath entirely. It's empty, but the hardwood gleams, and the bay windows spill sunlight across the floor like liquid gold. I can already see my canvases propped along the walls.

By the time we make it back to the living room, I’m quieter. Not because I’m overwhelmed, but because for the first time in a long time… I’m not sure I want to leave.

My fingers trail along the edge of the bannister, catching the grain in the wood as I glance back at the three of them.

Fox. Dare. Jex.

Each of them carrying my things. Each of them watching me with that quiet, steady kind of attention that says: you matter here.

And slowly, without meaning to, I start to believe it.

Jex

May 22nd

11:25 A.M

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, the leather creaking faintly under my fingers as I glance at Violet out of the corner of my eye.

She’s curled into the passenger seat, phone pressed to her ear, eyes squinting at the dashboard like she’s debating whether to chuck the whole device out the window or keep pretending she has the patience of a saint. Her voice has that particular edge—the one she saves for Fallon when she’s trying not to strangle her with love.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. No, Fallon, you don’t need to fly back from Boston. Just focus on fixing what needs fixing, okay?”

Her tone is firm, but laced with affection, the kind you only use when you adore someone even while they’re being a pain in the ass. It makes my mouth twitch in a smile I try to hide behind the wheel. It’s so her—grumpy affection, blunt concern softened by loyalty.

I glance in the rearview mirror. Fox is sprawled out across the backseat like he owns the place, one arm draped casually over the window, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He catches my look, lifts an eyebrow, then shifts his attention to Violet—just in time to hear her sigh like she’s preparing to do battle with a dragon.

Dare sits beside him, arms folded, eyes locked on the storefront in front of us. Fluffed Up. The sign is obnoxiously pink, the windows overflowing with pillows, plush throws, and soft, glittering lights. It’s a nesting paradise—and a pastel nightmare.

“Swear to god, if there’s a glitter aisle, I’m waiting in the car,” Dare mutters.

Violet ignores him, her voice softening slightly as she murmurs into the phone. “Fallon, I promise—if anything happens, I’ll call. But right now? I’m safe. I’m with them.”

Those words do something to me.

They settle low in my chest and unfurl like heat, slow and steady. Like a tether tightening in the best way. She feels safe with us. That shouldn’t matter this much—shouldn’t make my lungs feel like they’re trying to inhale something solid—but it does. Because the truth is, I want to be that for her. The safe place. The sure thing.

There’s a quiet beat, then her voice drops. “I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up before Fallon can get another word in. Classic Violet move.

She holds the phone in her lap a second longer than necessary, fingers still curled around it like she’s reluctant to let go. Then, slowly, she releases it with a soft sigh and leans back in the seat, brushing a piece of purple hair out of her face.

“Sorry, guys,” she says with a sheepish glance toward the back seat. “She’s a little… overprotective.”

Fox barks a laugh, grinning as he stretches like a satisfied cat. “Understatement of the fucking year. I’m pretty sure she was seconds from contacting the National Guard. Probably has a satellite tracking you right now.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Dare mutters, but his gaze shifts to Violet, a little less teasing now. “She loves you. That kind of loyalty doesn’t go away, even when you don’t need it.”

Violet smiles at that, small but genuine, and damn if it doesn’t hit me right in the chest again.

A wry smile tugs at Violet’s lips. “She’s stressed dealing with the fallout from the whole Marline disaster. Then at her Boston bridal location. It’s Marcy’s bullshit. I’m getting real tired of M’s fucking with our lives. She’s got a pack of overworked employees she’s trying to keep from revolting. So of course she’s trying to micromanage my life from a different state.”

“She cares about you,” I say, my voice gruffer than intended. “Can’t blame her for that.”

Violet shrugs, a hint of fondness in her eyes. “Yeah, I know. Considering the armed break-in situation at my house, she's just worried, which is fair. And, you know, being stuck with you guys.”

I raise a brow. “Stuck with us?”

Her eyes dance with amusement. “Yeah, I mean, you three are basically a walking testosterone disaster. You’re lucky you’re hot, or this would be a nightmare.”

Fox barks out a laugh. “Good to know we’ve got at least one redeeming quality.”

“Maybe two if I’m being generous.” She tosses him a wicked grin, and fuck, I love seeing her like this—playful and sharp and a little bit reckless.

But she’s also tense. I can see it in how her fingers twitch against her phone and her shoulders haven’t quite lost their tightness even with the jokes.

Dare shifts beside Fox, his gaze locked on Violet, eyes studying her like he’s trying to unravel every twist and turn of her emotions. “You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, nodding toward the sugar-coated nightmare that is Fluffed Up.

She groans, throwing her head back against the headrest. “I swear, you guys are more worried than Fallon. It’s fine. A little weird to be dragging you into a nesting store, but fine.”

“Honestly, doll,” Fox says, leaning forward, his arms draped over the front seat as he grins at her. “I’m kinda looking forward to watching you drag us through this fluffy pastel hell. I’d like to see what our omega likes.” 

Violet snickers. “I don’t know. Some of these omegas can be just as dangerous. But... seriously, you guys don’t have to get me a whole nest.” She squirms like she’s uncomfortable with us spending money on her.

I keep my voice low and steady, eyes locked on Violet’s beautiful, stubborn face. She’s fighting me on this, but not with the same sharp edges she usually uses to keep us at arm’s length. This time, it’s hesitation. Uncertainty. And that’s something I can work with.

“Hey, we want to do this for you.” My voice softens, but the conviction remains. “We have the means to make sure you have everything you need to be happy. You’re our omega, Violet. We provide for you. That’s not just instinct—it’s what we want to do.”

Her lips part, eyes widening as the words sink in. That look of awe on her face is so fucking beautiful it steals the air from my lungs.

“We want you,” I continue, my fingers twitching where they rest on the steering wheel. “And I’m hoping that one day, you’ll want to bond with us because that’s what we want. To have you, in every way. But even if that takes time, we’re not going anywhere.”

Her lips tremble like she’s fighting back words she’s too scared to say. My eyes search her face, tracing the delicate line of her jaw and the curve of her cheeks before dipping lower to take in the way her dress clings to her body.

She looks like a fucking dream. That deep purple velvet dress hugs her soft curves, the rich color making her skin glow, her purple curls a wild mess of beauty that makes me want to bury my hands in her hair and never let go.

“You’re beautiful, Violet. And we are so damn lucky to be your mates.”

Chapter Five

Jex

May 22nd

12:04 P.M

“You don’t even know me,” she whispers, like the words hurt to say.

I huff out a low, humorless laugh and reach back, gripping her waist and hauling her tiny frame into the front seat before she can even squeak out a protest. I settle her right on my lap, her knees falling to either side of my thighs, her warmth pressing against me in a way that’s going to drive me insane if I think too hard about it.

Her mouth parts in shock, but I keep going. I need her to hear me. Really hear me.

“I know you scrunch your nose when Dare teases you,” I murmur, letting my hands rest lightly on her hips. “I know you give Fox these soft, adoring looks when you think no one’s paying attention.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I don’t give her the chance.

“I know your shoulders relax every time I touch you. Like I’m grounding you. I know you mutter to yourself in the middle of the night when you get a glass of water every night.”

Her eyes widen, lips twitching as if fighting a smile.

“I know you love the color purple—every shade of it. I know your best friends are your whole world, and you’re worried about your friend Odette. We haven’t met her yet, but you’ve mentioned her enough times for me to know she matters to you. But you’re not too worried because you trust the man watching over her. Henry, right?”

A little nod, her expression dazed but alert. Good.

“I know you’re the cutest gothic mate ever, and you call yourself a ‘black cat girlfriend,’” I continue, smirking when her cheeks turn pink. “I laughed like hell when I looked that up.”

“Of course you did,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips now.

“I know your fingers twitch when you get the urge to paint. It’s been three days, Violet, and I’ve paid attention to every single moment. You think I don’t know you?”

“Well now he’s just making us look bad,” Dare grumbles from the backseat, but the warmth in his tone says he’s not actually annoyed.

I glance over and see Fox smirking, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Violet swallows, her gaze searching mine. “I take it back. You know a lot about me. But... I still stand by the fact that you don’t know me. Not all of me.”

“Then help us learn,” I say softly, my voice a low rumble. “Help me know everything about you. The good, the bad, the things that scare you and the things that make you smile.”

Her eyes glimmer with something hesitant but eager. She leans forward, her lips brushing softly over mine. It’s like she’s testing the waters, seeing if I’ll pull away.

As if I could ever.

A groan escapes me, deep and guttural, as I grab a fistful of her hair, my fingers tangling in those wild purple curls and deepening the kiss. She tastes sweet, her lemon frosting scent clinging to my tongue and making my entire body tighten with want.

Everything else fades away. It’s just her—soft, sweet, and fucking perfect against me.

The sudden, raucous sound of laughter from outside the truck breaks us apart, both of us breathing hard, our chests heaving like we just ran a damn marathon. Her lips are swollen, eyes glazed, and the way she’s looking at me makes my heart twist painfully.

She giggles, the sound pure and light. “You’re... wow.”

“I could say the same about you, sweetheart,” I rasp, my voice like gravel. I feel her body shift against mine, and my hard cock twitches in response. There’s no hiding it, especially when her cheeks turn that pretty shade of pink again.

I clear my throat, brushing a gentle thumb along her cheek. “Now, we’re going to go inside. You’re going to pick out everything you want. And then we’re heading home to build you the best damn nest you’ve ever had. Yeah?”

She nods, her lips quirking into a tiny smile that hits me straight in the chest. “Yeah. Okay.”

This is it. The beginning of everything. And I’ll be damned if I let anything ruin it.

***

The moment I step into Fluffed Up, I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face by a pastel cupcake.

The scent hits first—vanilla bean, fresh linen, something vaguely floral that makes my wolf recoil like it’s just sniffed a glitter bomb. The lights are warm and hazy, and the entire store glows in soft hues of blush, lavender, and cream. Everything is plush. Cushioned. Padded. Stuffed. There’s enough faux fur in here to make a grown Alpha weep.

I blink, overwhelmed, and Fox lets out a low whistle behind me. “Well, this is… aggressive.”

Dare mutters something under his breath about sensory overload, but I don’t respond. Because while the place is an interior design nightmare from hell for someone like me, she is already lighting the place up.

Violet walks in like she owns the floor—tiny combat boots clunking against polished tile, her short purple curls bouncing with each step. The skin-tight velvet dress she wears is in some shade of violet that matches her name, her vibe, her everything. The moment she enters, the energy in the store shifts.

Every Omega nearby clocks her immediately. I watch as they instinctively turn—some visibly curious, others shrinking slightly behind their Alphas as if sensing the weight of ours behind her. Fox and Dare aren’t exactly subtle. We tend to radiate something… unapproachable. But this isn’t fear, not really.

It’s awe.

Violet doesn’t notice, or if she does, she doesn’t let it show. She throws her arms out wide and twirls once, half-laughing, half-dramatic. “Holy nesting heaven, Batman.”

Dare huffs a laugh, and I have to fight a grin. She’s too much.

“Well,” she says, eyeing a nearby stack of lavender-scented body pillows shaped like cartoon foxes, “guess I’m officially the luckiest girl in the store.”

Fox chuckles behind her, voice thick with amusement. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“More than you know,” she replies with a wicked smile tossed over her shoulder. The way she looks at him—like she knows exactly how hot she is when she teases—it hits like a punch to the chest. My chest.

And then she winks.

Fox rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tug upward, betraying his affection. Dare laughs under his breath, already moving to intercept her before she wanders too far into the fluffy chaos.

As for me, I grab a cart like I’m gearing up for deployment. I am preparing for deployment, just of a different kind. I’ve seen Omegas nest before, but this is Violet. This is our Omega. And if she so much as glances at something with too much longing, it’s going in this cart.

I catch her looking at me from the corner of her eye. That look she gives me—like she knows exactly what I’m doing and thinks it’s both adorable and absurd—makes my jaw clench.

Because if she wanted me to, I’d build her a damn nest out of silk and starlight.

“Alright, little Omega.” Dare’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he loops an arm around Violet’s shoulders and starts steering her toward one of the larger furniture aisles. “First order of business: furniture. Gotta pick your base before we pile on the fluff.”

Violet mock salutes him. “Sir, yes sir. Fluff comes later.”

She lets herself be tugged down the aisle, wide-eyed and curious, already reaching out to touch things as she passes—textures, fabrics, pillows with sequins and blankets so soft they might as well be made of clouds.

I follow behind, pushing the cart, watching her with a quiet ache in my chest.

Because this—this right here—is what I never thought I’d get.

A mate. Our Omega. Free. Safe. Smiling.

And if it takes a dozen pastel nightmares to build her the nest of her dreams?

Then I’ll burn every credit I have and start all over again.

The furniture aisle is practically a warehouse on its own. Every type of couch, chair, and bed frame imaginable is laid out for display. Sleek, modern pieces right next to antique-looking monstrosities, and a few things that look too fluffy to be real.

But then I see it—the holy grail of nesting furniture.

A massive hanging bed, suspended by thick, sturdy ropes attached to a beautiful dark wood frame. It’s big enough to sprawl out on with plenty of room to spare. My fingers itch just looking at it, my mind already whirling with ideas of how to decorate it.

Dare watches me with an amused tilt to his lips. “Guessing you like that one?”

“Like it?” I say, eyes sparkling as I trace the sleek lines of the frame with my fingers. “I need it. It’s practically begging me to make the best nest ever.”

He chuckles. “Alright, let’s get someone over here to scan the barcode. Wouldn’t want anyone else snatching it up.”

I wave him off. “This is the display.” I laugh. “No one else is going to drag a massive hanging bed home. And besides…” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “It swings. Can you imagine the kind of fun we could have on something like this?”

Dare’s eyes darken, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “Now you’re just trying to kill me.”

“Maybe a little,” I admit, laughing when his expression turns downright predatory.

By the time the sales associate wanders over to scan the tag, Dare and I are already cackling like idiots. And when Fox and Jex catch up with us, they exchange looks that are half exasperation, half curiosity.

“You guys done flirting, or do you actually plan on picking out more stuff?” Fox asks dryly, though the smirk tugging at his lips says he’s anything but annoyed.

“Just getting started,” I say, popping my hip and throwing him a wink. “That giant swinging bed? It’s coming home with us. And I’m not even sorry.”

Jex’s eyebrows shoot up, but he just nods like he’s already prepared to toss it over his shoulder and haul it out of here if that’s what I want. The possessive gleam in his eyes makes my stomach do funny little flips.

“Alright,” Dare says, giving my hand a tug. “What’s next, Violet?”

I drag them deeper into the furniture section, chattering excitedly as I pick out a luxurious, dark purple velvet couch and a couple of oversized armchairs. Something about the deep, rich color feels right. It feels like me.

Jex orders the chairs and couch without hesitation, his phone out and tapping away at the logistics like the perfect overprotective Alpha he is. Meanwhile, Fox trails along behind me, tossing in the occasional sarcastic comment when I hold up something especially extravagant.

But none of them try to stop me. None of them tell me to slow down or pick something simpler or cheaper. They watch me, indulgent and patient, like this is exactly where they want to be.

Eventually, we make it to the sheet and blanket aisle, and my heart soars. Piles and piles of fluff. Soft, luxurious fabrics everywhere, just waiting to be touched.

“Alright, gentlemen,” I announce with a grin, rubbing my hands together like a cartoon villain. “Now’s the time to fear for your wallets because I am about to go feral.”

Jex lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. “You get whatever you want, sweetheart. Make it perfect.”

“Oh, I intend to.” My tone is pure sass, and I know they’re all eating it up by the way their gazes follow me.

This feels... good. Like something is starting to settle into place. And if I have to take the first steps toward building a nest with them, well, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it.

I pause at the entrance to the sheets-and-blankets aisle, feeling a rush of excitement immediately followed by a pang of guilt. This store is pure Omega paradise—aisles filled with lush, luxurious bedding, pillows stacked so high they might avalanche at any moment, and a rainbow of soft fabrics begging to be touched. I glance back at the cart Jex is pushing, and bite my lip anxiously.

“Guys, we don’t have to do all this today. I mean, this is… a lot.” I gesture vaguely at the overflowing cart. “Maybe we should just get a couple things for now. You know, keep it simple.”

Fox snorts softly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans casually against a shelf lined with thick fleece blankets. “Nice try, doll, but simple was never really our style.”

Dare gently nudges my shoulder, leaning close enough that his warm scent wraps around me. “Nope. Not backing down.”

Jex’s voice is a deep rumble behind me. “Violet.” The way he says my name makes me feel like a teenager in trouble again. 

My heart does that traitorous fluttering thing again, warmth blooming in my chest. For once, the stubborn part of me doesn’t want to argue. But still, guilt niggles at the back of my mind.

“I just don’t want you guys to spend so much on me,” I mumble, avoiding their eyes as I finger a silky blanket on the nearest shelf. “It’s not like we know what’s going to happen next. Things might get worse before they get better, and I—”

Jex gently turns me to face him, his large hand cupping my cheek with surprising gentleness. “Which is exactly why you deserve this moment of peace. We know how dangerous things might get. But right now, we’re safe. You’re safe. And you deserve to enjoy this.”

I swallow, feeling emotions tightening my throat. He’s right. They’re all right. I’m standing here, worrying about hypothetical futures instead of enjoying the rare moment of peace we have.

“Okay,” I say softly, exhaling slowly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when we run out of closet space.”

Fox chuckles behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His lips tickle when he kisses a soft spot high on my neck. His body is warm, and if I could stay in his arms forever at this point, I would. He lets me go after another squeeze. “Then we’ll build a bigger closet.”

I roll my eyes but finally let a smile break through. “Fine. But don’t complain when I spend all your money on dark, moody fabrics.”

Dare grins, tugging me gently into the aisle. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Now come on, little Omega. Show us how to pick the perfect fluff.”

Laughing despite myself, I dive into the aisle, quickly spotting my favorite colors—deep purples, dark blues, smoky grays, and sleek blacks. My fingers eagerly brush over velvet-soft fleece, cool satin sheets, and plush, silky blankets. It’s absolute heaven.

“What about this?” Dare holds up a hot-pink blanket covered in neon kitten faces, waggling his brows dramatically. “I feel like this screams ‘Violet.’”

I groan dramatically, snatching it from him and stuffing it back onto the shelf. “Absolutely not. This would curse my nest for eternity.”

Dare chuckles, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Dark, gloomy, and mildly haunted—got it.”

“It’s called aesthetic,” I tease, tossing a dark purple velvet throw blanket into his arms. “Try to keep up.”

Fox picks up a midnight-blue satin pillowcase, thoughtfully running his thumb over the smooth fabric. “You know, Violet, at this rate, you’re going to turn us all into your gothic minions.”

I grin wickedly. “That was always the plan. Give it a week and you’ll all be wearing eyeliner.”

“Keep dreaming,” he scoffs, smirking, but adds the pillowcase to the cart anyway.

As I select more pillows—big plush ones ideal for sprawling out, smaller velvet-covered ones for comfort, and silky decorative ones in rich blacks and purples—I feel lighter, happier. For a brief moment, I allow myself to forget everything else, focusing purely on making my dream nest.

Jex suddenly holds up a dark gray throw embroidered with delicate black crescent moons, his expression serious. “What about this, sweetheart?”

I gasp dramatically, grabbing it from his hands and clutching it protectively against my chest. “I’d fight someone for this. Seriously, don’t test me.”

He smiles, eyes softening as he looks down at me. “I know you would. And you’d win.”

“Of course I would,” I say, my voice gentling at the warmth in his eyes.

Dare leans in again, his breath tickling my ear. “And we wouldn’t let anyone get close enough even to try.”

My stomach flips pleasantly. “Good answer.”

When the cart is piled high with enough bedding to make a dozen nests, Fox shakes his head, giving me an exaggeratedly wary look. “Think we’re good, or should we just buy out the entire store and save time?”

I smirk back sassily, feeling more confident now. “You’re right. Maybe I should slow down—I don’t want you three going bankrupt. Then who would spoil me?”

Fox rolls his eyes, Jex chuckles deeply, and Dare squeezes my hand affectionately. “Don’t worry about that. Just keep picking until it feels right.”

I take a deep breath, allowing myself to savor this moment. We have safety and peace right now, and I’m determined to hold onto this feeling as long as I can because deep down, I have a gut feeling things will get worse before they get better.

But not today.

Today, I’m just an Omega with three doting Alphas, a cart full of luxurious bedding, and a heart lighter than it’s felt in a long time.

Fox

May 23rd

7:42 A.M

Leaning against Violet’s omega suite doorway, I let my head fall back against the frame with a soft thunk, exhaling through my nose as my eyes drink her in.

The room is bathed in the kind of soft, quiet glow that makes you want to whisper. Tiny star-shaped lights are threaded through sheer violet curtains draped lazily around her nest, casting gentle, dappled shadows across the walls. The space feels sacred—hers. Like stepping into a dream spun from dark silk and late-night secrets.

And in the center of it all, curled up like some delicate, precious thing, is my mate.

She’s on her side, tucked beneath a mess of pillows and blankets in every shade of purple and blue imaginable—deep plum, indigo, stormy gray. Her petite frame is nearly swallowed by them, but not quite. I can still see the line of her shoulder, the faint dip of her waist. Her wild, violet curls are spread across the nest like spilled ink, and her cheek is pressed into one of the oversized cushions, mouth parted just slightly.

She’s beautiful in a way that aches.

She sighs softly in her sleep—barely a whisper of sound, but it hits me like a punch to the chest. My fingers twitch at my sides. My scent spikes, heavy and possessive, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat.

Mine.

The word echoes in my head like a drumbeat. Fierce. Absolute.

She shifts slightly, the blankets rustling, and I catch the barest sliver of her thigh where the covers have slipped. The sight nearly undoes me. That curve. That skin. So soft. So hers. My cock stirs behind the drawstring of my joggers, heat tightening low in my gut.

Down, idiot. She’s sleeping.

But fuck, she’s not just my omega. She’s the omega. The only one who’s ever stirred something deep enough in me to quiet the shadows.

I drag a hand over my face, trying to ground myself. Trying not to fall too far into the memories that always lurk at the edge of moments like this.

My childhood wasn’t the kind that makes you nostalgic. It was the kind that leaves you with scars you forget to name because they’ve always just… been there. Foster care wasn’t a picnic, but it gave me a shot. And eventually, it gave me them—Kingston, Jace, Romano… Voss. The Rosetti pack. The only people who ever made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

But there was no pull. No snap of a bond. And I thanked the fucking stars for that. Because as much as I respect them—hell, as much as I owe them—there’s only so much Voss a man can take before his sanity begins to fray. The guy is chaos with a smile. A nuclear bomb in human skin.

Still, they were my brothers in all the ways that mattered. They taught me how to build a life—taught me how to fight. How to protect.

Which is probably why standing here now, staring at Violet as she sleeps in a nest we built for her, makes something inside me twist so violently I have to take a step back.

Because this isn’t just lust. Or pride. Or protectiveness. And gods help me, I’ve never had one before.

She sighs again, curling slightly into the blanket, and this time it’s sweeter. Sleepy. Soft. Her scent—lemon frosting, warm and intoxicating—rolls over me like a tide.

I feel it in my teeth.

One taste. Just one.

I cross the room before I can think better of it, sinking down onto the edge of the nest, careful not to jostle her. She doesn’t stir. I reach out, brushing the backs of my fingers against her hair. It’s like touching clouds.

My voice is nothing more than a breath when I speak.

“Don’t know how the fuck I ended up with someone like you,” I murmur, barely loud enough to be heard by the shadows. “But I swear to every god listening… I’m not letting you go.”

Not now. Not ever.

Without even fully realizing it, my feet carry me quietly into the room, closer to her. The massive swinging bed is absolutely ridiculous, yet it’s so perfectly Violet. She was right about it—the way she built her nest is beautiful, thoughtful, carefully constructed with comfort and safety in mind. Just watching her create it had settled something deep inside me, calming my Alpha in a way nothing ever has.

I slowly climb onto the bed, careful not to wake her, feeling it sway gently beneath my weight. Violet’s warmth radiates outward, drawing me in like gravity. Her sweet lemon frosting scent curls around me, settling deep into my bones, easing away the lingering tension of my thoughts.

She shifts slightly, murmuring something sleepy and unintelligible, but doesn’t wake. Unable to resist, I ease down beside her, careful to maintain just enough distance so I don’t startle her awake. Her face is soft and peaceful in sleep, and the worry lines around her eyes are smooth and relaxed. Without thought, my fingers reach out, brushing a loose purple curl back from her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, voice barely audible even to myself. “I don’t deserve you, Violet, but god, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to.”

She stirs gently, still half asleep, violet curls spilling across the pillow as she stretches lazily. A faint, teasing smile curves her lips upward. “You keep staring like that,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice warm and soft, carrying a hint of playful sass, “and I might just have to do something about it.”

I chuckle quietly, reaching over and pulling her closer, savoring the heat of her body as she easily melts into my side. “Promises, promises, doll.”

Her blue eyes finally flutter open, and my breath catches at how stunning she looks, still flushed and relaxed from sleep. She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, her delicate hand resting comfortably on my bare chest. Her fingertips trace lazy patterns, sparking heat beneath my skin.

She tilts her head up, her gaze finding mine, bright with amusement and something deeper—something that makes my pulse quicken. “Oh, believe me, Fox. Those are promises I fully intend to keep.”

I lift an eyebrow, smirking down at her, unable to resist the magnetic pull she has over me. I trail my fingers along her side, teasing the soft curve of her waist beneath the thin material of her sleep shirt.

“I think I might need a demonstration of exactly what you have in mind,” I murmur, my voice dipping lower, thick with anticipation.

Her eyes darken slightly, her lips parting as her breath hitches. “Be careful what you ask for, Alpha. I’m feeling adventurous today.”

My grin widens slowly as I cup her jaw, thumb brushing lightly across her bottom lip. “Then show me, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

Violet’s eyes soften, her playful smile fading into something more tender as she leans in closer, slowly closing the space between us. Her lips brush softly over mine—a featherlight, hesitant but inviting touch. Warmth sparks in my chest, and I immediately relax into her gentle kiss, my hand sliding up to cup her cheek, thumb softly stroking her jaw.

She hums quietly against my lips, her body melting further against mine, the tension in her muscles easing as her confidence grows. Her fingers flex gently against my chest, and the sweet scent of lemon frosting surrounds me, deepening my hunger.

When she pulls back slightly, her blue eyes find mine, heavy-lidded and bright with trust.

“Fox,” she whispers, my name rolling softly off her tongue, making my heart race.

I tilt her chin up gently, guiding her lips back to mine. This time she kisses me with more certainty, her lips pressing firmly, eagerly, surrendering completely to the warmth building between us. I return her kiss slowly, savoring every second, deepening the bond we’ve been carefully building.

In this moment, nothing else matters but her.

Chapter Six

Fox

May 23rd

8:02 A.M

My arm tightened possessively around her waist, drawing her even closer until there’s nothing between us but the heat of our bodies. 

Her leg slides over mine, her thighs straddling me with a confidence that makes my pulse thrum. Her cheeks are flushed, skin glowing with desire, and her lips are deliciously swollen from the relentless hunger of our kiss. The way her chest rises and falls, breath shallow and needy, is intoxicating.

I trail my fingers along her back, letting them settle against the curve of her spine. My voice drops, low and taunting, a growl wrapped in velvet. “What do you want, doll?”

Her eyes blaze with hunger, bold and unashamed. “You, alpha. Every. Part. Of. You.”

A wicked grin stretches across my lips. I trace a thumb over her trembling bottom lip, my gaze locked on hers. “Is that right? Tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart. Do you want my mouth on you, tasting every inch of you? My fingers buried deep inside, making you fall apart with every desperate pulse? Or maybe you want me to pin you down and drive you wild, make you scream my name while you come undone all over my cock?”

I feel her shudder against me, her body’s answer coming before her words. And God, that’s all the permission I need.

Violet’s body feels delicate and electric beneath my touch, her skin burning through the thin cotton of her sleep shirt. I can feel her heartbeat thundering just as wildly as mine. Her hips settle against me, her thighs pressing against my sides as she leans forward, her curls spilling past her face like a curtain of dark silk.

“Everything,” she whispers, her voice trembling with want and urgency. “I want everything, Fox.”

Gods, hearing her say my name like that, all soft and needy, nearly wrecks me. But I keep my composure, let the hunger simmer instead of boil over. I reach up, fingers sliding beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, tracing the smooth skin of her thighs and waist, feeling her shiver under my touch.

“Everything, huh?” I murmur, my tone deep and edged with a growl. “You know what that does to me, baby? Hearing you beg for it like that?”

I roll until she’s lying beneath me. She laughs softly. Her breath hitches as I drag my fingers along her hips, the fabric of her panties barely a barrier. I hook my thumbs beneath the waistband, tugging just enough to tease. Her eyes widened, pupils blown, her lips parting as I grazed my teeth over the curve of her neck.

“Or maybe…” I continue, my voice dropping lower, rich with the promise of everything she’s asking for. “Maybe I should take my time. Make you feel every touch until you’re shaking, soaked, and so desperate you can’t even think straight.”

Her hips rock against me instinctively, her body answering for her. The feel of her pressed against my cock sends a jolt of heat through me, and I groan, fingers tightening against her skin.

“Fox…” she whimpers, her voice trailing off into a breathy plea that drives me wild.

“What is it, doll?” I press my forehead against hers, letting my mouth hover just above hers, the promise of a kiss lingering like temptation itself. “Tell me what you need. Because I’m not stopping until I’ve given you every single thing you ask for.”

Her hands tangle in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as she shifts her hips, seeking more friction, more of me. The movement sends a wicked thrill shooting straight through me.

“Touch me,” she begs, the words tumbling from her lips like she can’t hold them back. “I need your hands on me, your mouth... I need you, Fox. Please.”

My chest rumbles with a growl of satisfaction. “Anything you want, baby. I’ve got you.”

I drag my hands up her thighs, pushing her shirt higher until it bunches around her waist, exposing the sliver of bare skin I’m dying to taste. My gaze rakes over her, taking in the way her chest rises and falls, her nipples straining against the fabric of her shirt.

I dip my head, my mouth grazing along her collarbone before I press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of her throat. Her breath hitches, fingers clenching in my hair as I drag my lips lower, over the curve of her shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in my wake.

I feel her tremble against me, every little sound she makes only driving me further, my body responding with a need that’s almost painful. The way she reacts to me, the way she’s so damn open and willing, like she’s put herself entirely in my hands... It’s addictive.

And I intend to give her exactly what she craves.

My fingers slide along the line of her waist, slipping beneath her sleep shirt and dragging it upward. The soft fabric glides over her skin until it’s bunched just below her arms. She lifts her hands, letting me pull it over her head and toss it aside.

She’s breathtaking. Exposed, vulnerable, and yet fierce in the way she looks at me—like I’m the only thing she craves.

“Perfect,” I whisper, my eyes devouring the sight of her. My hands map every inch of her, exploring the gentle curves of her breasts, the sharp intake of her breath as my thumbs brush over her nipples.

Her body responds like it’s made for me, her hips rolling against my hardness, a desperate friction that only feeds my hunger. I can feel the slick heat of her arousal even through the thin fabric of her panties, the scent of her intoxicating and impossible to resist. My instincts roar to claim her, mark her, and make her mine in every possible way.

“Fox… please,” Violet whimpers, her voice cracking under the weight of her own need.

I drag my mouth down her throat, biting softly at the spot where her scent is strongest, where I know she wants my mark. But she’s not ready for that—yet. This is about pleasure, about giving her exactly what she needs until she’s unraveling in my arms.

My hand slides between her thighs, pressing against her heat, and her breath stutters as her head falls back. I hook my fingers around the damp fabric of her panties, tugging them down her legs and letting them fall somewhere on the floor.

“So wet for me already,” I growl, the words thick with approval and hunger. “You want me to take care of you, doll? Want me to make you feel so good you forget everything else?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her hips canting forward, desperate for more. “I need you, Fox. I need all of you.”

I capture her lips in a fierce, claiming kiss as my fingers slide between her folds, gathering the slick heat and teasing her until she’s trembling against me. Her whimpers are pure music, and I can’t help but groan as I push a finger inside her, then two, stretching her, preparing her for what’s to come.

Her hips move with mine, her hands clawing at my shoulders, her nails leaving trails of heat on my skin. It’s not enough. Not even close.

“More,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I need you inside me, Fox. Now.”

I tear my gym shorts down and kick them away, the cool air hitting my skin doing nothing to calm the throbbing ache of my arousal. My cock stands thick and heavy, the base already beginning to swell with the promise of my knot. The thought of burying myself inside her, of locking us together, has me barely holding onto my control.

I grip her hips, guiding her down until the head of my cock presses against her entrance. Her body yields to me, slick and tight, pulling me in inch by inch until I’m buried deep inside her.

“Fuck, Violet…” I groan, my forehead falling to her shoulder. The sensation of her clenching around me, so hot and perfect, nearly drives me insane.

Her own cry is pure pleasure, her nails scraping against my back as she moves her hips, urging me to thrust harder, deeper. And I do. Every snap of my hips is met by her own, the rhythm building between us until it’s frantic, desperate.

The pressure at the base of my cock grows, my knot swelling and pushing against her entrance with every plunge. I can tell she feels it, the way her body tenses and her breath hitches. But she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she’s clinging to me even tighter.

“Fox… I—” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her body seizing around me as her orgasm crashes through her. She’s so beautiful when she comes. 

I keep moving, chasing my own release even as her walls pulse around me, milking me. The pleasure is too much, burning through me like wildfire, my control splintering. I feel my knot thickening, demanding to claim her, to lock us together in the most primal way.

“Violet…” I grit out, my voice a ragged growl. “Can I knot you?”

Her eyes blaze with need, with a reckless sort of longing. “I want it. I want all of you, Fox. Please.”

The words tear through the last shreds of my restraint. My hips surge forward, the thick swell of my knot forcing its way past her entrance, locking us together with a delicious stretch. The sensation of being so impossibly deep, of having her body gripping me like a vice, is pure, unrelenting bliss.

A guttural sound escapes my throat as I come, pleasure ripping through me in a violent wave, my release flooding her as my knot swells to its fullest. I can’t move, can’t do anything but hold her tight as my body pulses against hers.

And Violet’s still trembling in my arms, her own pleasure spiraling endlessly as she feels me filling her, the knot holding us together like we were made to fit.

We stay locked like that, tangled in each other, breathing hard and raw. I press my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling as we come down from the high of it all.

“Mine,” I murmur, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

And from the way her smile softens and her fingers stroke over my jaw, I can tell she feels the same.

Dare

May 23rd

5:32 P.M

“What have we gathered so far?” Fox asks as he strides into the library, Violet close behind him.

He’s dressed casually, comfortable in dark jeans and a fitted gray Henley that stretches tight across his shoulders. Violet trails after him, wrapped snugly in a soft black cardigan layered over leggings, fuzzy purple socks peeking out beneath. Her short violet curls are wild around her face, eyes alert, sharpened by a combination of caffeine and adrenaline.

I straighten from where I’ve been leaning against the heavy oak table positioned in the center of the room—our makeshift war table. Violet had jokingly dubbed this sprawling library the “war room,” and honestly, it fits better than any other description.

The library itself is impressive—floor-to-ceiling shelves of dark mahogany lined with countless books, leather-bound classics mixed among tactical manuals and outdated maps. The room smells faintly of aged paper, leather, and something comforting, almost nostalgic. There’s a massive stone fireplace along one wall, flames flickering quietly, casting warm, shifting shadows across polished hardwood floors and plush velvet armchairs arranged neatly nearby.

Stacks of paperwork, laptops, maps, and scattered notes currently clutter the central table, evidence of how long we’ve all been digging into the ongoing threats around us. Jex sits in one of the large leather chairs, elbows propped against the table, dressed similarly to Fox in dark pants, though his plain black T-shirt clings tightly to his massive frame. He looks tired but focused, and the tension in his jaw is clear evidence of how badly he wants this resolved.

I exhale slowly, running a hand roughly through my messy black hair. “We’ve confirmed a definitive location for one of the auction houses,” I say, voice grim. “Romano got solid intel this morning. We’re finally making progress.”

Violet’s eyes widen slightly, but her expression remains steady as she slips into the chair beside Jex, curling her legs underneath her. Fox takes the seat directly across from me, his gaze sharp, wary.

“Good,” Fox murmurs, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on the table. “It’s about damn time.”

Jex nods, glancing over at Violet as if assessing her reaction. She meets his eyes briefly, a silent exchange passing between them before she turns back to me.

“And the rest?” she asks softly, a slight edge of tension in her voice. She’s strong and stubborn as hell, but I know all of this is weighing heavily on her. She’s barely slept since we brought her here, even after building the elaborate nest room. Her worry for Fallon, Odette, and every omega caught up in this nightmare has only grown more intense.

I sigh, sliding one of Romano’s intel folders closer. “Our house is still secure for now. Completely off-grid, buried deep in shell corporations and fake identities. Nobody’s tracked us yet, so we’re safe here—at least for the moment.”

Fox nods thoughtfully, fingers tapping quietly against the polished tabletop. “And the kidnappings?”

I frown deeply, meeting his gaze. “The immediate kidnappings in our area seem to have been shut down, at least temporarily, thanks to Rosetti and Fallon raising hell. But the auctions themselves are still happening—likely using omegas brought in from other regions. It’s a temporary fix, nothing permanent.”

Violet makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, leaning her head briefly on Jex’s shoulder. He instinctively wraps an arm around her, fingers gently threading through her curls in silent comfort.

“Fallon and Romano are moving forward quickly with renovating that apartment building for single omegas,” Jex says, voice low but firm. “They’ll have secure housing and a safe place to land—one less vulnerability for these bastards to exploit.”

Violet’s lips curve into a faint, grateful smile. “That’s good. Really good.”

“And,” I continue, feeling slightly more optimistic now that there’s tangible progress, “Congress is finally feeling the heat. They’re currently fighting to abolish the outdated guardian law—the one that says omegas can’t own anything without permission. There are just too many omegas on their own these days for that to make sense.”

Fox snorts softly, shaking his head. “About damn time. It’s insane that it took this long.”

“Still, it’s movement in the right direction,” I say quietly. “We’re gaining ground, even if it feels slow.”

The silence hangs heavy in the library for a moment, the crackling fire offering faint comfort. Violet exhales softly, shifting closer to Jex, her eyes distant with worry. I watch her closely, my chest tightening at the thought of how much stress she’s carrying.

“Hey,” I say gently, drawing her attention back to me. “We’ll get through this, Violet. One step at a time.”

Her gaze softens slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I know. It just feels like…like we’re running out of time.”

Fox’s expression darkens slightly, a familiar determination settling over him. “Then we move faster. We hit them harder.”

Jex nods, his jaw set with quiet resolve. “Agreed. Whatever it takes.”

The room settles into tense silence once more. We all know Fox is right—things are going to get worse before they get better.

But at this moment, surrounded by my mates and secure in our home, I find myself determined to do whatever is necessary to protect what’s ours.

No matter the cost.

Violet

May 25th

7:03 P.M

“So,” Fallon nudges me gently, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she wiggles her eyebrows, “tell me about you and your mates. Spill everything.”

We’re curled up together on one of the plush, overstuffed couches in her living room, sipping iced coffees while our alphas are off doing what Dare cryptically calls “recon.” According to Fallon, “recon” is actually code for them taking threats and problem assets to what she affectionately calls “The Pit.”

“You probably know as much about them as I do,” I sigh dramatically, swirling my straw through my coffee. “I mean, seriously, I met them for like half a second that night. Ever since then, I’ve been playing catch-up.”

Fallon snickers, nudging me playfully. Her midnight blue hair is piled messily on top of her head, and her green T-shirt and black leggings hug her slim figure. The happiness radiating from her makes me smile, despite the chaos of our lives. It’s nice to see her so deeply, ridiculously in love. It gives me hope—well, mostly hope. Right now, it’s tinged with envy.

“Okay, but Vi—” she lowers her voice, conspiratorial “—I grilled Kingston. Grilled. Like, over-the-coals level interrogated him about your trio of alphas.”

I raise a brow, curiosity piqued. “And?”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “He gave me nothing. He just said they were good men and trusted them with his life.”

I blink. “Wait. He actually said that?”

Fallon nods, solemn. “Swear on my last cinnamon roll.”

I whistle low. “Coming from Kingston, that’s basically the highest praise possible. He doesn’t trust anyone. I’m surprised he even trusts his own reflection.”

“Right?!” Fallon says, throwing her hands in the air. “So, naturally, now I need the real story. You’ve been living with them. Give me the tea.”

I sigh, shifting to sit cross-legged, my black jean shorts riding up a little as I fiddle with the edge of my oversized shirt. “They’re… amazing, Fallon. Like, unfairly hot, totally overprotective, and kind in ways that are terrifyingly genuine.”

Fallon leans in, her eyes sparkling.

“Dare’s probably the easiest to talk about. He’s this mix of smooth and intense—like if a thunderstorm learned how to flirt. His mom lives out in California, and she’s called him, like, every day since we moved in. I’ve talked to her a few times. She’s sweet. The kind of woman who already refers to me as my sweet girl, and ends every call with a promise to send cookies.”

Fallon melts a little. “That’s so wholesome.”

“Right?” I grin. “Then there’s Jex.”

She perks up. “The one with the bedroom eyes and the tattoos?”

I laugh. “That would be him. His parents are... the exact opposite of Dare’s. Total hippies. Last I heard, they were in Sedona doing mushroom ceremonies and advocating for free-range bees or something. He loves them, I think, but he can’t keep up with their ‘let the wind guide your soul’ lifestyle. It’s adorable how exasperated he gets.”

Fallon chuckles. “And Fox?”

My smile falters, just slightly. “That’s... a little harder.” I exhale slowly, my voice lowering. “I haven’t gotten the whole story. I know his parents were terrible, Fallon. Like, sell-you-out-for-drug-money bad.

Fallon’s teasing fades immediately, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine gently.

“He’ll tell me eventually,” I murmur. “When he’s ready. I don’t want to push. But I see it in his eyes sometimes—like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like he still thinks he’s not allowed to have anything good. And that... kills me.”

Fallon squeezes my fingers tighter. “You’re good for him. For all of them.”

“I’m trying to be,” I whisper.

“You are.” Her voice is fierce now. “They’re lucky to have you.”

I smile, warmth blooming low in my chest. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Chapter Seven

Violet

May 25th

7:32 P.M

She nudges me again, eyes sparkling wickedly. “Speaking of waiting…how’s the sex? Amazing, right? Three hot, protective alphas—gotta be mind-blowing.”

I groan dramatically, letting my head fall back against the couch cushions. “I’ve only had sex with Fox so far. Girl. That man has a dirty mouth and a fantastic cock.”

Her mouth literally drops open, her eyes widening comically. “Wait—are you serious right now?”

I shoot her an exasperated look. “Dead serious.  It’s been weeks, and aside from Fox and one ridiculously hot kiss with Jex—which, to be fair, melted my fucking brain—nothing has happened. Like, literally nothing.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Nothing?”

“Nothing!” I huff, waving my hands emphatically. “I mean, yeah, they cuddle me constantly and are affectionate. Dare touches me all the time—holds my hand, pulls me close on the couch—and Fox has been sneaking into my nest every night, but no sex. They’re all sweet and perfect and protective. But sex?” I groan again, louder. “Not even a hint!”

Fallon bursts into laughter, shaking her head at my misery. “Oh my god, Violet. Have you considered that maybe they’re trying to be respectful? Like, they’re afraid of pushing you too fast?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Respectful, sure. But at this rate, I’m going to spontaneously combust from sexual frustration. Do you know how hard it is having three incredibly hot alphas walking around shirtless, looking like actual gods, and not having sex with them? It’s torture. Actual, physical torture. Especially after getting a taste from Fox. Ten out of ten, Fallon.”

Fallon’s laughter only intensifies, tears forming in her eyes as she clutches her stomach. “Poor baby. Three perfect mates who are too nice and respectful. Your life is so tragic.”

“Stop mocking my pain!” I shove her playfully, giggling despite myself. “Seriously though, do I have to spell it out for them?”

She wipes away tears of laughter, taking a deep breath. “Honestly? Maybe you do. Alphas can be dense as hell. Especially protective, morally-upstanding ones.”

I sigh dramatically again, leaning my head against her shoulder. “Great. So now I have to make the first move. Maybe I could walk into a room naked. I figure that should work, right?”

She snorts loudly. “Oh my god. I’m totally doing that later tonight. Just hanging out in the kitchen naked.”

I smile slightly, trying not to laugh. “I need details, and I’ll give you mine.”

Fallon laughs softly, squeezing my hand. “Deal. But trust me, they’re probably as frustrated as you are. Maybe more.”

I smirk a little, hope sparking in my chest. “God, I hope so.”

Because if I have to go another week without my mates touching me in all the ways I’m desperately craving, I might genuinely explode.

“I’m so glad you’re back from Boston,” I say, curling my legs under me as I settle deeper into Fallon’s plush couch. “So, what happened with all that drama?”

Fallon’s usually bright eyes immediately darken with irritation as she lets out a sharp huff, leaning her head back against the cushions. “Ugh, Marcy is still in the wind. Which sucks, because I honestly would’ve preferred to kill her myself. The bitch stole so much from me, Vi. More than just money—my peace of mind, too. My employees' livelihoods, their sanity. I swear.”

Her midnight-blue hair spills messily over her shoulders, and she scowls dramatically, rubbing her temples like the entire ordeal still gives her a headache. Her small frame is tense, dressed comfortably in dark leggings and an oversized emerald-green sweater that hangs loosely off one shoulder.

I frown sympathetically, sipping from my iced coffee. “At least she’s gone now. Did you ever recover the money she took?”

Fallon brightens slightly, a wicked smirk curving her lips. “Oh yeah, I tracked down her secret bank account. Drained it completely. Then I split all the money between my employees at the Boston shop. Of course, they cried again.” She shudders visibly, pulling a face. “I swear, Vi, I am not built for tears. Like, at all.”

I snort, nudging Fallon’s knee with mine. “You say you’re bad at comforting people, but honestly? You’ve been holding my shit together with glitter glue and coffee for weeks now.”

Her lips twitch, but the amusement fades almost instantly as her expression tightens. “Romano and Voss dug deep—like scary deep. And as far as they can tell, it looks like Marcy was just greedy. No bigger connection.” She pauses, her jaw tightening. “But after everything? I don’t trust that for a damn second.”

My stomach twists. “So... we’re thinking what? She was just in it for the money?”

“Probably.” Fallon’s eyes narrow. “But here’s the thing: we don’t have concrete proof of anything else. Yet. I swear, though—if one more fucked-up person with a name that starts with ‘M’ shows up, I’m going feral. I mean it. No more ‘M’s. They’re cursed.”

I snort out a laugh, flopping back dramatically against the couch cushions. “God, right? At this point, if someone named ‘Melissa’ tries to hand me a coffee, I’m kicking her in the shin and running.”

Fallon laughs too, but there’s a tired edge to it, the sound brittle underneath. “From what little intel we had before we were, y’know... oh so nicely relocated—there’s more than one ‘M’ involved. That’s the part that keeps me up at night.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You mean the part where we were literally kidnapped? Dragged out like we were goddamn furniture? Yeah, Fallon. That was not a relocation. That was a hostile eviction from our own damn lives.”

She groans and throws a decorative pillow at me. “Okay, yes, fine. But if I don’t laugh about it, I’m gonna cry. Or throw hands. Possibly both.”

I catch the pillow and hug it to my chest, the humor bleeding out of me just a bit. “I get it. I really do.” I glance toward the window, half-expecting to see the guys’ truck rolling back in, even though it’s way too early. “God, I hope they find something during this recon run. I can’t keep holding my breath like this, waiting for the next bad thing to hit.”

Fallon leans her head against mine. “Same. Just once, I want the other shoe to stay where the hell it is. Preferably in the closet. Untouched. Maybe in a locked box.”

“Buried six feet under,” I add, and we both crack up—because the truth is, if we’re not laughing, we’re just barely holding it together.

And damn, I’m tired of barely holding it together.

The sharp, mechanical click of the front door unlocking cuts through our conversation like a blade, too loud, too abrupt, too wrong.

Fallon and I both straighten on instinct, our laughter silenced in an instant—my heart stutters. For a half-second, I let myself hope it’s just the guys, back from whatever suspiciously vague “recon” bullshit they’re off doing. Unfamiliar heavy footsteps send a cold rush of dread slithers up my spine.

Fallon’s eyes meet mine, green flashing with something wild and dangerous. Her body tenses next to me, every inch of her going taut like a drawn bowstring. I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until two unfamiliar men step into the living room.

Two unfamiliar men step into the living room first, both dressed in dark tactical gear and armed heavily, their faces impassive and professional. My heart begins to pound, adrenaline rushing through me. Fallon curses quietly, subtly sliding her hand between the couch cushions, clearly reaching for the hidden blade I know she always keeps there.

A third man follows them inside, his rifle raised and trained directly at us. The barrel is dark, cold, and disturbingly steady. My breath catches sharply, panic flickering briefly through me before anger overrides it. How dare these bastards interrupt what little peace we’ve managed to scrape together?

“Tsk, tsk, ladies,” one of the men drawls, his voice mocking. “Hands where we can see them.”

My eyes flick briefly to the other two intruders, sizing them up quickly. All three wear identical tactical vests, loaded down with more weapons than seems even remotely necessary. I slowly drag my gaze back to the one holding the gun aimed at my face, meeting his eyes squarely.

His expression stays blank, perfectly controlled, but there’s something in his gaze—a slight flicker of discomfort—that I latch onto immediately. The longer I stare directly into his eyes, refusing to show fear, the more uneasy he becomes. Good.

“What do you want?” I ask coldly, my voice carefully neutral, even bored-sounding. Fallon’s eyes flick briefly toward me, questioning. I blink slowly, deliberately at her, silently signaling her to stay calm. She gets it immediately, relaxing slightly against the couch cushions, though her fingers remain just above the hidden knife handle. Technically, they can see her hands. 

With exaggerated slowness, I pick up my iced coffee from the table, taking a leisurely sip through the straw while staring down the three men invading our sanctuary. They exchange confused glances, clearly unsure how to react.

“Hello?” I raise an eyebrow impatiently, speaking slowly and sarcastically. “I assume you speak English, since you literally just talked to us. Can we help you with something? Because honestly, you’re interrupting girl time.”

Fallon makes a quiet, amused noise beside me, quickly covering it by coughing softly into her free hand. Her expression is perfectly relaxed, though I can feel the tension vibrating through her. My own heart continues racing, but I force myself to stay calm, knowing panic won’t help us.

The lead intruder finally scowls, clearly irritated by our nonchalant attitude. Good. Keeping him off-balance is precisely what we need right now.

“You two are awfully casual for women staring down guns,” he growls, stepping further into the room, clearly annoyed by our lack of visible fear.

I shrug calmly, deliberately taking another slow sip of coffee. “If you wanted us dead, we’d already be dead, right? So either get to the point or get out. You’re killing our vibe.”

Fallon snorts quietly, nodding in agreement. “Seriously. You’re terrible at dramatic entrances. Who sent you anyway? Because I’m betting you weren’t stupid enough to walk in here without knowing exactly who we belong to.”

The man’s jaw tightens visibly, anger flashing across his face as he raises his rifle slightly higher. “You don’t need to know who sent us. You need to do exactly what we say, and no one gets hurt.”

My grip tightens subtly around my cup, anger mixing dangerously with the adrenaline in my veins. I exchange a quick, pointed glance with Fallon, silently communicating our next move. Whatever these bastards think is going to happen here—they’re about to learn just how badly they’ve underestimated me. 

I tilt my head slightly, eyeing the trio of men in full tactical gear standing in Fallon’s living room, my heart pounding furiously beneath a mask of absolute calm. A sudden realization hits me like a slap—the room is missing something crucial. They have no scents. None. Just the subtle sweetness of Fallon’s honey peach scent mixing with my lemon frosting aroma. My instincts immediately scream danger. Scent blockers will make it harder for our packs to figure out who was in Fallon's home. 

Fantastic.

“Wait.” I raise a finger, interrupting whatever ridiculous speech the leader was about to make. “Are you here for me, or her? Like her pack or mine? Because, honestly—no offense, Fallon—it could genuinely be either at this point.”

Fallon huffs out a laugh, giving the intruders a look of casual amusement. “Right? Did my pack piss you off? Was it Voss? Did he kill someone you love? That really sounds like something he’d do.”

I snort softly, rolling my eyes. “She’s not wrong. But it honestly might be my guys. A few weeks ago, some jackasses in tactical gear broke into my house and tried to kill me. My alphas took them out, though, so fair warning—I wouldn’t try that again if I were you.”

I notice the leader’s eyes narrow sharply at that little tidbit. Good. Let them know we aren’t easy prey.

“Get up,” he snaps suddenly, clearly irritated by our casual disregard of his intimidation tactics.

I sigh dramatically, standing up slowly and reaching for my boots beside the couch. “Leave them,” he growls impatiently.

“Dude,” I say slowly, shooting him a look of pure disbelief. “No. Just no. Do you even know how filthy the ground is out there? This is Chicago. I’m putting my shoes on.”

Without waiting for a reply, I shove my feet quickly into my boots, subtly checking that my knife is still secure in its hidden sheath. Fallon rolls her eyes and stands too, effortlessly casual despite the tense situation. I didn’t see where exactly she hid her knife, but knowing her, it’s somewhere incredibly dangerous and discreet. Thankfully, our kidnappers are too distracted—or maybe too arrogant—to notice.

“I’m really getting tired of being kidnapped,” I say to Fallon conversationally, like I’m complaining about a late pizza delivery instead of, you know, active hostage-taking. My tone is bright, almost chipper, which is probably more unsettling than if I’d started screaming.

Fallon doesn’t miss a beat. Her lips curl into a feral grin, all teeth and barely contained violence. “Want to make a bet on which pack gets here first? Ten bucks on mine.”

The man standing closest to her jolts slightly, clearly thrown off by her casual death-pool vibe. His eyes widen, like he just realized we’re not your standard-issue, swoon-and-sob omegas. Poor guy. Rookie mistake.

I hum, tapping my chin like this is a perfectly logical time for a wager. “Hmm. Tempting. Your pack is nuts—especially Voss. That man gives off ‘might stab you or kiss you, and he hasn’t decided which’ energy.”

Fallon nods sagely. “He’s a wildcard. Keeps things spicy.”

“But,” I continue, leveling a look at the man with the rifle—who now seems deeply unsure about every life choice that brought him here—“my guys met me in the middle of a kidnapping rescue, then got themselves detained for a month, then busted out and found me again. So yeah... they’ve got a lot of pent-up murder energy.”

Fallon snorts.

I flash her a grin. “I’ll see your ten and raise you twenty on mine.”

We both shift a little closer toward the men, who suddenly seem less cocky and more... concerned.

And somewhere under all the bravado, the banter, and the stubborn refusal to look scared—I feel it: the quiet, simmering rage. Not fear. Not this time.

Because I’m done being stolen.
And I am so ready for someone to regret underestimating me.

“Shut up and move,” the leader barks again, his voice sharp and commanding—the kind of bark that slams into my bones and hijacks my body before I can stop it. My limbs jerk forward on instinct, traitorous and automatic.

Gods, sometimes I really hate being an omega.

But at least this time, the submissive pull doesn’t come with terror laced through my veins. No. This time? My omega is furious. She wants blood, not mercy.

Fallon moves with that deceptively lazy grace of hers, circling the couch like a cat sizing up prey—or pretending to, anyway. Then she stumbles. Just a little. Just enough to make it believable. Her hand shoots out, palm slapping hard against the fireplace mantle with a loud crack.

It echoes through the room, and the men barely blink.

But I catch the flicker in her eyes. That split-second glance she throws my way. I nearly sag with relief.

That wasn’t just a stumble. That was the panic trigger—the one hardwired into her fireplace that silently alerts her pack.

Cheating? Maybe.

Brilliant? Absolutely.

And bless Fallon’s paranoid, dramatic, hyper-violent alphas for thinking of it.

I resist the urge to laugh, tightening my jaw instead as I school my features into something blank and bored. Wouldn’t want them realizing just how screwed they are.

I glance at the men again—three strangers with big guns and bigger egos, acting like they’ve already won.

Oh, boys.

If you think this kidnapping is going to go according to plan… You are tragically mistaken.

Honestly? I almost feel bad for them.

Almost.

At least this time I’m not high on tranquilizers, waking up in a filthy building. Look at me—personal growth.

Jex

May 25th

7:45 P.M

The sharp chorus of phones pinging at once slices through the charged silence like a blade. Voss pauses mid-sentence, his knife glinting under the industrial lights, the tip still hovering dangerously close to the bloodied man hanging limply from the chains in front of him.

The warehouse is sterile, pristine—concrete floors polished to an unsettling shine, walls insulated against sound, heat, and mercy. The Rosetti pack calls it The Pit, a place meant to break secrets out of the worst kind of people. And tonight, it’s too quiet.

Until now.

I pull my phone out thinking it's mine.  Kingston pulls his next to me, staring at his screen. Whatever he sees turns his expression to steel.

“Fuck!” he roars, spinning sharply on his heel. “Marco!”

The man in question doesn’t flinch. Marco sits perched like a lion at rest—immaculate black suit, polished shoes, a bowl of peanuts in hand as if we’re not surrounded by chains and bloodstains. His eyes lift lazily, unimpressed.

“Watch him,” Kingston snaps, already storming for the exit. Romano and Jace are right behind him, both men moving with precision that only ever comes from panic cloaked in control.

Voss drops his blade without a word and takes off, the slap of his boots echoing across concrete.

Marco sighs, brushing peanut dust from his lap. “Got it.”

Fox is already moving, brows furrowed in alarm as he closes in on Kingston’s crew. His normally calm demeanor is cracking, a rare flicker of fear creeping in beneath his usual stone face.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“Fallon hit the panic button,” Jace barks, shoving the SUV door open hard enough to rattle the hinges. “Something’s happening at the house.”

My stomach drops. The blood drains from my face.

“Violet was with her,” I say, voice hoarse, urgency tearing through me like shrapnel. My heart lurches against my ribs, pounding in time with the rush of adrenaline that floods my veins. “We’re coming.”

Kingston doesn’t argue—nods tightly, his face carved from granite as he slides into the driver’s seat. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel, eyes glowing with fury that could level cities.

Dare curses under his breath, so low it’s nearly a growl. His fists flex at his sides, jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder his teeth don’t crack. He moves like a storm—shoulders taut, his black T-shirt stretched tight over his chest as he bolts for our truck.

Voss snarls something savage as he slams the SUV door shut beside Kingston. The look on his face is pure violence, like he’s seconds away from ripping the world apart.

And then we’re moving—Fox and I, tearing across the lot toward our truck. I barely register slamming the door behind me, my focus razor-sharp and trembling with rage.

I see her in my head. Violet. Her purple curls. The way her smile curves slightly to the side when she’s holding back a laugh. The way she looks when she lets herself be soft, for us.

And the fear that someone could take that away from me and us twists something deep in my chest.

We’ve already lost her once.

Not again.

“Floor it,” Dare snaps, his voice low and brutal from the back seat. He grips the headrest so tightly his knuckles bleach bone-white.

I don’t even answer. I slam my foot down, the engine roaring beneath us as the tires screech against the pavement.

Kingston’s SUV is already a blur ahead of us, tearing through the night like it’s chasing vengeance.

We follow—hard and fast.

Streetlights whip past, casting flashes of gold across Fox’s grim face. He’s staring ahead with that same dangerous calm he always gets when the mission matters most. But even he can’t hide the tension coiled in his jaw, the silent desperation in his eyes.

I don’t say it out loud, but it’s pounding in my chest, echoing in every breath I take.

Please, gods, let us be on time.

Because if anyone touches her—if anyone hurts her—

I will make the Pit look like a vacation.

Chapter Eight

Violet

May 26th

10:36 A.M

“I’m so fucking bored,” Fallon groans, flopping back on the bed like she’s auditioning for a tragic stage play. Her midnight-blue hair spills in a dark wave across the dingy green comforter as she throws an arm over her eyes and kicks one leg restlessly. “This is honestly offensive. If you’re going to kidnap someone, at least have the decency to provide a little entertainment. A movie. Snacks. A hostage menu.”

From my spot at the edge of the mattress—where I’ve been hanging halfway upside-down like a sulking bat—I let out a snort. Blood rushes back into my skull as I roll upright with a dramatic sigh. “Excuse me? Is my sparkling presence not enough for you? I’ve been providing premium company content for hours.”

She peeks at me from beneath her arm, eyes narrowed with mock betrayal. “Vi, I love you, but even your sass has a shelf life. After hour two, I need snacks or someone to punch.”

“Fair,” I mutter, dragging my fingers through my curls and glaring at the humming fluorescent light above us. “Still better than the last place we were locked up. At least this one doesn’t smell like mold and existential dread.”

She props herself up on her elbows, giving the room a long, unimpressed once-over. “Yeah, well, beige walls and thrift-store chic decor doesn’t exactly scream ‘hostage glam,’ either.”

She’s not wrong. The room is… weirdly clean. Like someone tried to make it cozy but gave up halfway. The queen bed is old but solid, covered in a faded comforter that feels like it was washed with industrial-grade sandpaper. Two battered wooden chairs sit in the corner like they’re waiting for an awkward interrogation, and there’s a dusty lamp that flickers whenever the AC kicks on. A chipped ceramic mug sits abandoned on the side table, half-full of something that may have once been coffee or poison. Honestly, who knows?

What’s more unsettling is the silence. No yelling. No threats. Just the quiet hum of overhead lighting and the muted echo of our own breathing. It’s the kind of silence that makes you start imagining all the ways it could break.

The door, of course, is reinforced steel. Electronic lock. Keypad. I saw them punch in a code earlier when they shoved us in here like inconvenient luggage. Fallon tried to watch the pattern, but one of them blocked her view. Not amateurs, then. And they’ve been wearing scent blockers—cowards. I haven’t been able to get a whiff of anything useful since they grabbed us.

I hate this. The not knowing. The stillness. The waiting.

I glance at Fallon, who’s now using one of the pillows to stage a mock execution with her bare hands. Her face is calm, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitch. She’s pissed. I am too.

But underneath the anger is something sharper. Colder.

Worry.

Because this isn’t random, they came for us. They came prepared.

And that means someone knows exactly who we are.

“You know what is strange?” I ask into the momentary silence. “The last commando idiots said that there was a kill order on me. But we were kidnapped?”

“That is odd.” She doesn’t seem to be able to give me more than that. “Maybe they feel like you are more useful alive?”

That makes me laugh. “I also feel like I’m more useful alive.”

Fallon shifts restlessly again, letting out a heavy sigh as she slumps against the wall, her honey-peach scent a calming presence in an otherwise tense room. “How long do you think it’ll take the guys to find us?”

“Not long,” I reply confidently, though I can’t help the faint twist of anxiety in my chest. “Between your paranoid pack and my overly protective alphas, I’m surprised they aren’t already storming the place.”

She smiles, but it’s strained around the edges. “I know they’ll come for us. I just really, really hate waiting.”

I nod sympathetically, crawling up onto the mattress beside her and leaning against the wall. “I get it. The waiting is the worst part. I’d prefer fighting or running—anything but sitting around.”

“Exactly.” She blows a stray curl out of her face, glaring at the blank wall across from us. “Who even kidnaps omegas without having the courtesy to entertain us?”

I laugh softly. “Maybe we should put in a formal complaint.”

Fallon snickers, bumping her shoulder gently against mine. “At this rate, we’ll get frequent-kidnapping discounts.”

I grin, grateful for her humor in the tense moment. But despite the jokes, my thoughts drift anxiously to our mates. They’ll find us, of that I have no doubt, but what if something goes wrong? What if they get hurt? A quiet dread coils in my stomach, mixing with my frustration.

As if sensing my mood shift, Fallon’s expression softens. “They’ll be okay, Vi. They’re insanely protective—and yours have already proven they’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”

“I know,” I whisper, leaning my head back and closing my eyes briefly. “But it’s not just us in danger anymore. It’s them, too. And the waiting—”

“Sucks,” Fallon finishes softly. “Yeah, it does.”

Silence stretches between us again, heavy and oppressive. I stare at the locked door, silently willing it to open. If I have to wait much longer, I swear I’ll claw through the walls myself.

Because right now, being bored isn’t the worst part. It’s being powerless, stuck here, while the people we love rush headlong into danger.

“When we get out of here, I’m refusing to be kidnapped again. Like gun in my face don’t care no thanks.” I announced suddenly, breaking the long silence out of sheer boredom and frustration. “This kidnapping has officially killed all my patience.”

Fallon bursts into laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I’m right there with you. I’m just going to start stabbing people.”

She’s abruptly cut off by a soft beep-beep-beep—the distinct rhythm of someone entering the access code on the keypad outside the door.

Instant silence.

Fallon and I lock eyes, and every trace of amusement drains from the room like a pulled plug. The air goes sharp, brittle. My stomach knots, and adrenaline roars to life in my veins, cold and hot all at once.

“Finally,” Fallon breathes, her voice practically a growl. She rises from the bed with eerie calm, the predator in her surfacing like a switch flipped. I barely blink before her hand disappears under her sweater—and fuck me, there it is. A wicked blade flashes in her grip, curved and gleaming, pulled from a holster I swear to god wasn’t there a second ago.

I snap into motion too—no time to hesitate. I scramble into the corner of the bed, drawing my knees to my chest, body folding in on itself like prey. Wide eyes. Shaky breath. Vulnerable omega act: activated. It’s a dance I know too well, and I’m damn good at it.

The door clicks. Opens.

One man. Alone.

Poor bastard.

He’s holding a tray—food, maybe?—and his bored expression is the last thing he has time to register before Fallon erupts. She lunges across the room like she’s airborne, slamming her blade deep into his thigh with bone-snapping force. The sound he makes is not human—some mix between a roar and a gurgle as the tray crashes to the floor, scattering cold food and metal across the concrete.

He hits the ground hard, blood pulsing from the wound. I don’t wait for him to recover—I pounce like something feral, grabbing his collar and dragging him into the room with everything I have. He fights, grunting and flailing, but I throw my weight into it, slamming his back into the edge of the bed. His head snaps back with a loud crack.

The door swings halfway shut behind him.

Fallon lunges—she almost makes it—but it slips from her fingers, the heavy steel door slamming shut with a deafening clang and a mocking hiss as the lock re-engages.

“Shit!” I hiss, heart pounding so loud I can barely hear.

We freeze, breathing hard, then glance down at the bastard writhing on the floor between us. He’s groaning, spitting curses, trying to crawl backward despite the deep gash in his leg.

Fallon raises her brows and shrugs. “Oops.”

I laugh, breathless, every nerve lit up like fireworks. “Well… at least now we have a guest.”

“Hospitality’s about to get real cozy,” she mutters, already reaching for the bedsheets.

I drop beside her, grabbing the guy by his arms as he struggles and curses, trying to land a blow. He catches me across the cheek with a wild elbow—and that’s it. I slam my fist into his nose, the wet crunch and spray of blood instantly satisfying.

He howls. Fallon knees him in the gut for good measure.

“Shut the fuck up,” she growls, ripping the sheet in brutal, angry jerks. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t shove this blade somewhere creative.”

He tries to spit at her.

She grabs him by the jaw, leans in close, and smiles—the terrifying kind. “Do it again. Give me a reason.”

His mouth snaps shut.

We wrestle him into one of the chairs, tying him down with layers of shredded sheets, ankles and wrists bound tight, shoulders pinned to the back. The bleeding from his thigh has slowed to a sluggish ooze, which is almost a shame—I would’ve liked him a little more panicked.

He looks like a half-mummified crash test dummy by the time we're done.

Fallon wipes blood from her cheek with the back of her hand and steps back to admire our work. “Not bad. Think we should add throw pillows?”

“Only if they’re filled with his dignity,” I mutter, standing to cross my arms and glare down at him.

His face is twisted in rage and pain, chest heaving, a little green around the edges from blood loss.

I lean forward, voice low and calm, almost conversational. “Now listen closely, because you’ve got one chance before Fallon starts getting creative. Who the fuck sent you?”

He glares at me in defiance.

Fallon kneels, drags the flat of her blade up his chest with agonizing slowness. “I’ll start with your toes,” she purrs. “Nice and slow. See how long it takes before you scream.”

He swallows hard.

“I’m serious,” I add, stepping closer. “You want to be a tough guy? Fine. But I’ve been through worse, and so has she. You don’t scare us. In fact, you’ve pissed us off.”

Fallon glances up at me, eyes alight with barely contained fury. “You wanted helpless omegas?”

I lean in, blood-splattered cheek to his. “Too fucking bad.”

Fox

May 26th

12:40 P.M

The tension in Rosetti’s living room is thick enough to choke on. We’re all gathered around Romano’s computer and tablet, which he has set up. The place usually has an air of easy-going chaos—comfortable leather furniture, Fallon’s plants tucked into corners, and pictures scattered around—but right now, it feels more like a command center ready for war. 

Romano, usually annoyingly cheerful, is hunched forward in his chair, eyes glued to one of his screens. Dark circles beneath his eyes make it clear he hasn’t rested since Fallon’s distress signal went off. He adjusts his wire-framed glasses, blowing out a frustrated breath as his messy black hair falls into his face.

“Got a lock on them,” he announces, voice strained but firm. “I swear after this, I’m putting a tracker directly on Fallon’s ass.”

Voss lets out a low growl of agreement from where he’s pacing restlessly behind the couch, radiating barely-contained fury. Jace and Kingston exchange brief glances filled with grim understanding. I know exactly how they feel—Violet’s absence has left a hollow, aching space in my chest. The longer she’s out of reach, the closer I am to snapping.

Romano scribbles something quickly onto a scrap of paper before standing up and shoving it roughly into my hand. I glance down, my pulse quickening at the sight of an address—finally, something solid, a place to direct our rage.

“I’d say let’s ride together,” Romano says dryly, meeting my gaze knowingly, “but I’m pretty sure none of us have the patience to get our omegas alone.”

He’s right. Patience vanished the moment we realized our mates were in danger—again. I nod sharply, feeling a familiar surge of protective fury tightening my chest. “We’ll meet you there.”

Romano’s lips twitch into a faint, grim smile. “Good. Try not to leave too much of a mess.”

“No promises,” Dare growls beside me, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His usually calm, measured demeanor is entirely replaced by a lethal determination I haven’t seen in a long time.

“Let’s go,” Jex says sharply, already striding toward the door, impatience and urgency vibrating off him like a physical force.

I pocket the address and move quickly after him, my heart pounding, my mind already fixated on one goal—getting Violet back safe, no matter what the cost.

Violet

May 26th

1:02 P.M

The man scoffs weakly, his voice laced with shaky defiance. “You’re just a couple omegas. What the fuck can you do to me?”

Fallon freezes mid-step, the corners of her mouth curling into something venomously sweet as she leans in, pressing the tip of her blade beneath his chin. Not enough to draw blood—yet—but enough to make him feel it. Her smile is all teeth, and her tone is pure honey-laced poison.

“Oh, sweetie,” she croons, “you really haven’t done your homework, have you?”

I stalk forward, my steps slow, deliberate. The soft thud of my boots on the floor echoes like a countdown. I tilt my head, studying him the way I might examine a bug I haven’t quite decided whether to squash or dissect.

“Let’s try this again,” I say quietly. “Who sent you? And more importantly…” I crouch down until we’re face to face, my eyes locked on his, “Were you here for me or her?”

His jaw tightens, mouth stubbornly clamped shut. The flicker in his gaze tells me he’s afraid—just not enough yet.

Fallon sighs, dramatically disappointed, and pushes the knife a fraction deeper until a thin, crimson bead slides slowly down his throat. “You’re not very good at this,” she mutters. “I expected more. At least some creative cursing or a fake name.”

“You’re going to get yourselves killed,” he hisses, though his voice cracks.

Fallon hums pleasantly. “Maybe. But you first.”

I step around him, trailing my fingers along the back of the chair he’s bound to, circling like a predator sizing up its next move. “Were you sent for her pack or mine?”

That gets a reaction.

His mouth twitches—an involuntary slip.

Still, he sneers. “You think I’m scared of your packs? A bunch of weak alphas playing house—”

Fallon interrupts, her voice light as air. “My mates are the Rosetti pack.”

The effect is immediate.

His body jolts, breath catching audibly in his throat. He pales, visibly, the color draining from his face like someone pulled the plug. His bravado dies a swift, pathetic death. The kind of fear that only comes from knowing just how royally you’ve fucked up blooms across his expression.

I exchange a look with Fallon and then lean down again, my tone soft and cutting. “Ohhh, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s wrong, tough guy? Thought we were just some easy marks?”

His eyes flick between us, panicked. “No one said anything about Rosetti. They said it’d be simple. Just two omegas with minor affiliations—”

Fallon lets out a bark of laughter, cold and vicious. “Minor? Baby, my alphas once wiped a whole house clean in under seven minutes just because someone looked at me wrong.”

I grin slowly, crouching beside him again and watching his skin go clammy. “And mine? Well… they already lost me once. They’re not the type to let that shit slide a second time.”

Fallon twirls her blade absentmindedly, like she’s deciding which part of him she’d like to carve into next. “So, let’s be honest. How long do you think you have before they find you? Before someone with actual power kicks down that door and turns you into a blood smear on the floor?”

“Minutes,” I murmur. “If you’re lucky.”

His chest heaves. Sweat beads along his temple. I can see the moment panic truly sets in. His mouth opens, then closes again, like he can’t decide if staying silent is worth dying for.

Fallon leans in, pressing the blade flat to his cheek. “Tick-tock, sweetheart. We’re not your biggest problem anymore. But we can still make you bleed if you waste our time.”

He gulps audibly, eyes darting to the door. Hope and fear, fighting for control.

Too late.

We’re already in control.

“There’s just something about making a grown alpha fear you.” I take a deep inhale, like I can smell his fear, before grinning at him. “Delicious”

Sweat beads down his forehead, panic overtaking any semblance of arrogance he had left. “Look, I don’t know anything, okay? I was just hired to grab both of you. Someone higher-up wanted leverage on your packs, that’s all I know!”

“Leverage for what?” I ask sharply, narrowing my eyes at him. My gut twists uncomfortably. The thought of our mates being targeted because of us makes anger flare hot beneath my skin.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snarls, though his voice cracks with nerves. “They don’t tell us shit. We were just supposed to hold you somewhere else—move you tomorrow morning. After that, someone else was taking over.”

“Who?” Fallon demands, pressing harder with the knife, clearly losing patience. “Who hired you?”

He shakes his head frantically. “They never gave us names. Just paid in cash—no questions. All I know is the guy we dealt with is dangerous—he said if we fucked up, we wouldn’t get a second chance.”

I exchange a look with Fallon, a sense of unease settling in my gut. This isn’t just random—it’s coordinated, calculated. Someone wants to hurt our packs. Someone powerful enough that even hired guns like this are terrified to cross them.

“Where were you supposed to move us?” Fallon asks quietly, her eyes cold and sharp.

“I don’t—” He hesitates, clearly torn, then finally relents, voice breaking. “A warehouse on the outskirts, near the old docks. The meeting was supposed to happen there tomorrow night. That’s all I fucking know, I swear.”

Fallon studies him coldly before finally pulling her knife back, leaving him slumped in relief. She steps back beside me, her voice barely above a whisper. “We need to warn the guys.”

I nod tightly. “Fast.”

Because whoever orchestrated this isn’t finished—and it feels like things are about to get a whole lot worse.

“Fox did say their previous employer was pretty pissed they helped your pack during the rescue,” I murmur thoughtfully, glancing at Fallon as we both try to piece together who could be behind this. The whole situation feels too organized, too deliberate.

“Wait—” The man suddenly jerks upright in his chair, eyes going wide as his terrified gaze snaps to me. “You’re Fox’s mate?”

I slowly turn my head toward him, eyebrows raised in irritation. “Rude to interrupt, but yes, I’m Fox’s mate.”

“Shit.” He goes pale, color draining rapidly from his face. His voice shakes with barely controlled panic as he flicks a frantic glance between Fallon and me. “Fox’s pack is involved in this? Those guys are fucking lethal. Nobody told us—Fuck! I’m guessing there’s no chance of mercy?”

Chapter Nine

Violet

May 26th

1:12 P.M

A slow smile curves across my lips, soft and almost sympathetic—though there’s not a shred of sincerity in it. “Even claiming ignorance won’t save you, sweetheart. You willingly kidnapped two omegas. You know damn well no pack is going to let that slide.”

The guy finally slumps, the weight of his mistake hitting him full force. His shoulders sag like a marionette with its strings cut. Fallon steps up beside me, arms crossed tight over her chest. Her stance is deceptively calm, but I can practically feel the fury radiating off her in waves. Her voice, when it comes, is low and ice-cold.

“You fucked up. Big time.” She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with that particular look that promises pain. “Not only did you snatch Pack Rosetti’s omega—but you grabbed the mate of three extremely pissed-off, heavily armed alphas who’ve literally burned bridges and walked away from their old lives for her.”

The color drains from the man’s face. He’s sweating now, and not from the blood loss. “They never told us who you were,” he says hoarsely. “Said you were nobodies. Just omegas with weak ties—grab and hold, that’s it.”

A loud crash echoes from outside the room, followed by sharp, startled cursing and a series of frantic beeps at the keypad on the other side of the door.

Fallon and I perk up immediately, adrenaline slamming into our systems like a second wind. We lock eyes, sharing a look that’s equal parts vindication and bloodlust.

“Moment of truth,” Fallon whispers, her wicked grin blooming like a flower in hell. “First through the door. Ten bucks says it’s my pack.”

I snort, a smirk dancing on my lips despite the bruises and dried blood painting my skin. “You’re on. I see your ten and raise you twenty on mine.”

The keypad chirps.

The heavy metal door slams open, nearly flying off its hinges.

Dare storms through like the apocalypse itself—tall, broad, blood-smeared and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tight in his hand and murder in his expression. His chest rises and falls in rapid bursts beneath his black tactical shirt, his hair wild and face flushed like he hasn’t stopped running since they got the alert.

I throw both hands in the air, giddy with triumph. “Yes! I win!”

Fallon groans, dramatic as ever. “Fine, fine. You win. I owe you twenty and my pride.”

Dare skids to a stop, blinking hard as he takes in the scene—me and Fallon standing tall and smug in front of a sheet-mummified, sulking man tied to a chair. The walls are stained, a smear of blood leading from the doorway. And yet, we’re casually bantering like it’s girls’ night.

“What the—?” he starts, eyes wide.

Then Voss barrels in behind him, all lean fury and raised pistol, scanning for threats like a feral storm. He nearly crashes into Dare, only to freeze at the sight of Fallon.

“Fallon,” he breathes—relieved, wrecked, frantic.

Before she can even blink, he’s on her, pulling her into his arms, hands roaming over her like he needs to confirm she’s really okay, that she’s intact. He cups her jaw, his voice rough. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you? Fallon—”

She leans into him, fierce and gentle all at once. “I’m fine, Voss. Promise. Vi and I handled it.”

Meanwhile, Dare is across the room in three strides, scooping me into his arms like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, my fingers fisting in the back of his shirt. He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in like he needs me to stay grounded.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he growls, voice low and wrecked. “I thought—fuck, I thought—”

“Shh,” I murmur, brushing a kiss along his jaw. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Then he kisses me, hard. Desperate and grateful and slightly possessive in a way that makes my toes curl. By the time he pulls away, I’m panting and half-dizzy from the force of it.

“You love it,” I whisper against his mouth, and he chuckles darkly, forehead pressed to mine.

Another loud crash sounds somewhere in the hallway. Fallon peeks over Voss’s shoulder, grin back in place. “Round two?”

“I’m game,” I say, grinning as Dare sets me down gently, his hand lingering on my hip like he doesn’t quite trust the world not to steal me again.

Fallon slinks behind our bound kidnapper, giving me a tug toward her as we reposition ourselves like we’re waiting for the grand finale of a very violent circus.

“Ten bucks says Jace comes through next,” she whispers.

I cock a brow. “Nope. Fox. Twenty.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Voss mutters—but he’s smiling now, just barely.

The door swings wide again.

Fox strides in, his gray-blue eyes cutting through the room like a blade, shoulders squared, expression sharp—until he sees me.

His entire body softens in an instant.

I wink slowly at Fallon and hold out my hand. “Pay up.”

Fallon lets out a strangled sound of frustration. “That’s just mean.”

I shrug, smug as hell. “You got the rescue last time.”

She throws her head back and laughs, leaning into my side. I laugh with her as the rest of our pack floods the room, the chaos finally starting to quiet under the weight of safety and reunion.

And even though there’s blood on the floor and bruises blooming on my ribs—I’ve never felt stronger.

Or more loved.

Violet

May 26th

3:33 P.M

I only make it two steps into the house before a strong pair of arms wrap firmly around my waist. With a surprised squeak, I’m lifted effortlessly over Jex’s broad shoulder, my feet dangling helplessly down his massive chest.

“Jex!” I burst out laughing, gripping the back of his shirt as he strides purposefully down the hallway toward my nest. “Put me down, you caveman!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he growls playfully, giving my thigh a teasing squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”

Fox chuckles darkly from somewhere behind us, footsteps steady and eager.

“Agreed,” Dare murmurs, voice deep and rough, his hand brushing gently against my dangling fingertips as he follows close by. The touch sends sparks racing through my veins, anticipation pooling low in my belly.

“You guys waited far longer than I needed.” I tease as Jex nudges open the door to the omega suite, stepping confidently inside. The soft purple curtains around the massive hanging bed glow gently with strings of star-shaped lights, illuminating the nest I built with care.

Jex lowers me carefully onto my feet, his strong arms lingering warmly around my waist, holding me close for an extra moment. I lean into him, savoring the comforting heat of his body against mine. After everything we’ve been through today, his touch grounds me—reminding me that this, right here, is real.

“I really want to dive right into this,” I murmur softly, brushing my fingertips lightly across his broad chest, “but I feel absolutely disgusting. I desperately need a shower first.”

He chuckles quietly, the deep sound rumbling pleasantly through his chest. His large hands gently squeeze my hips, guiding me toward the ensuite bathroom door. “Would you like some company in there?”

I glance up at him, a playful smirk lifting my lips. “Tempting offer, big guy, but you’ll see everything soon enough. A girl needs a moment.”

He raises a brow, his amber eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Laughing softly, I step away reluctantly, slipping into the spacious bathroom and quietly shutting the door behind me. Alone for the first time in what feels like forever, I release a deep breath and lean against the door, taking in the calming atmosphere of the room. Soft lavender walls, plush gray towels neatly folded, and the faint aroma of eucalyptus all greet me, relaxing some of the lingering tension in my muscles.

I peel off my clothes slowly, discarding them into a messy heap on the tiled floor. Catching sight of myself in the large mirror, I frown at my reflection. The faint shadows beneath my eyes, messy purple curls tangled from stress, and the slight bruise forming on my arm remind me vividly of today’s chaos.

Turning on the shower, I step beneath the hot spray, closing my eyes as water cascades soothingly down my body, washing away grime, sweat, and anxiety. My fingers comb through my hair, the tension gradually draining from my muscles as steam surrounds me.

Kidnapped again. Seriously? Who gets kidnapped multiple times in just a few months? Frustration bubbles in my chest at the thought. It’s exhausting, always feeling vulnerable. But this time, there’s a difference—I have them. My pack. My mates.

Warmth fills my chest as images of Fox, Dare, and Jex flash through my mind. I remember Fox’s quiet strength, the protective gleam in his eyes whenever he thinks I’m in danger. Dare’s sharp wit and teasing smiles, masking the gentle, fierce heart beneath. And Jex, with his deep voice and steady presence, always makes sure I’m grounded, secure, and loved.

Gods, I got lucky this time around.

A smile creeps across my face as I rinse off the shampoo, savoring the simple pleasure of being safe and cared for, something I didn’t always have before. This kidnapping may have shaken me, but it also sharpened my resolve—I’m determined now, more than ever, to spend as much time as possible with each of my alphas. I want to learn everything about them—every quirk, every scar, every hidden vulnerability.

I finally shut off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping myself in one of the luxuriously soft towels. As I dry off, excitement curls low in my belly.

And as frustrating as being kidnapped again was, maybe there’s something to be said about how fiercely my mates fight to keep me safe. It makes me even more determined to hold onto them tightly—and never let go again.

After lingering just a little longer in the steamy sanctuary of the bathroom, I finally muster the courage to step out. I take a steadying breath, adjusting the soft, plush gray towel securely around my body, and push the door open.

Jex leans against the wall by the window, his massive frame somehow making the space feel smaller. His arms are folded over his broad chest, muscles straining against his black t-shirt. His gaze is fixed on me, amber colored eyes tracing over every inch of my body like he’s already stripping away the towel with his mind.

Dare stands near the foot of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful build on full display. He’s only wearing a pair of gray sweats slung low on his hips, his chest bare and rippling with muscle. There’s a hunger in his gaze, a possessiveness that makes my pulse race.

And then there’s Fox. The slimmer of the three, but no less fit. His lean, athletic build is like coiled steel, all sharp lines and perfect control. He’s lounging in my reading chair, legs spread wide, wearing only his jeans. His eyes are alight with that familiar mischievousness, but tonight there’s something darker beneath it. Something dangerous and irresistible.

My mouth goes dry, my heartbeat thundering in my chest. They’re all here and looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world they want.

“Fuck, Violet,” Jex growls, his voice so low and rough it sends shivers down my spine. “You really have no idea what you do to us, do you?”

My fingers tremble where they clutch the towel. “Maybe you should show me, then.” The words come out as a whisper, but the challenge is clear.

Dare’s mouth quirks into a grin, his eyes never leaving mine. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Because once we start, there’s no going back.”

I swallow hard, my skin prickling with anticipation. “I’m sure. I want all of you.”

The air between us turns electric, tension crackling like a live wire. Jex’s expression tightens, his fists clenching like he’s holding himself back. But it’s Fox who moves first.

He rises from the chair with that effortless grace, his smile widening as he closes the distance between us. His fingers reach out, brushing over my arm, and I shiver at the contact.

“You heard her,” Fox murmurs, his voice smooth and teasing, but there’s a raw edge to it, something feral lurking beneath the charm. “She wants all of us. Think we can handle that, boys?”

Dare chuckles, the sound rich and dark. “Oh, I think we can do more than handle it.”

Jex finally pushes off the wall, that powerful body of his moving like a predator closing in on his prey. “Question is, can you handle us, Violet?” His gaze locks onto mine, making my breath hitch. “Because we’re not planning on holding back.”

“I don’t want you to,” I breathe, my voice trembling but firm.

Fox’s fingers toy with the edge of my towel, his eyes locked on mine as he slowly tugs it loose. The soft fabric slips from my body, falling to the floor in a whisper of cotton, leaving me bare and vulnerable under their intense gazes.

The room seems to hold its breath. I can feel their eyes drinking me in, the air thickening with heat and something deeper—something primal.

“Beautiful,” Dare says, his voice low and rough. “So damn beautiful.”

“Fucking perfect,” Jex growls, his expression so fierce it nearly steals my breath.

Fox’s fingers skate over my hip, his touch light but searing. “You’ve been driving us crazy, Violet. And now…” His hand slides around to my lower back, pulling me against him. “Now, we get to return the favor.”

I can barely think. My heart is slamming against my ribs, my body already aching with need. Their attention is intoxicating, their presence overwhelming in the best possible way.

“What do you want, Violet?” Fox asks, his voice dripping with wicked intent. “Tell us exactly what you need.”

“All of you,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Together. I want to feel all of you.”

The way they react is instantaneous. A wildness ignites in their eyes, their bodies tensing as if my words have unlocked something primal in them.

Jex’s massive hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me toward the bed as he settles himself on the hanging mattress, the ropes creaking softly under his weight. His gaze stays fixed on me, dark and smoldering.

“Come here,” Jex commands, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking into the plush mattress as Jex’s hands find my hips, guiding me over him until I’m straddling his broad, powerful thighs. His warmth seeps into me, the size of him making me feel small and fragile. But it only heightens the thrill.

“Good girl,” he purrs, his hands sliding up my sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. “But we’re just getting started.”

Dare and Fox climb onto the bed with us, the mattress swaying from the added weight. Dare’s hands are on me next, his touch firm and possessive as his mouth claims mine in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps against mine, demanding and intoxicating, making my body melt between them.

I feel Fox’s hands glide down my back, his fingers tracing along my spine before cupping my ass. His voice is a hot breath against my ear. “You ready for us, Violet? Because tonight, we’re making sure you know exactly who you belong to.”

“Yes,” I breathe, my body aching, throbbing with anticipation. “I want all of you. Please.”

My pulse is thrumming so hard I can feel it in every part of my body. The air feels thick, heavy, the heat of their bodies wrapping around me like a living thing. My towel is gone, tossed aside like it never mattered, and I’m left naked and exposed beneath their searing gazes. But there’s no shame, no hesitation—just raw, electric need.

Jex’s hands are still on my hips, strong and steady, the weight of his touch both grounding and intoxicating. His thumbs stroked over my skin, teasing but somehow reassuring. His eyes devour me, making me feel like the only thing that matters to him right now is me.

Dare’s lips press against my neck, his kisses firm and possessive as his hands glide up my waist. My skin feels impossibly sensitive, every touch sparking pleasure that sends tremors through me. His mouth moves lower, teeth scraping over my collarbone before he sucks gently at the spot, making me gasp.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Dare growls, his voice vibrating against my skin. “Like you were made for us.”

Fox’s hands are everywhere, his fingers tracing lines down my spine, skimming over the curve of my ass, leaving me breathless with every caress. He presses his chest to my back, his warmth seeping into me, his breath hot against my ear.

“Look at you,” Fox whispers, his hands sliding around to cup my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my nipples with maddening precision. “So damn responsive. I love how you shiver every time I touch you.”

I can’t stop the needy little whimper that escapes my throat. My whole body feels like it’s vibrating, caught between the three of them, their touches overwhelming me but in the best possible way.

Jex’s hands flex on my hips, pulling me down until I’m straddling him completely, his hardness pressing up against me, separated only by his jeans. The friction sends a shiver of pleasure through me, and I grind against him instinctively, desperate for more.

“Fuck, Violet,” Jex growls, his hands tightening on me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of my own need. “I need… I need more.”

“And you’ll get it,” Jex promises, his eyes blazing with hunger. “But first, we’re going to make sure you’re ready.”

Before I can say anything, his mouth finds mine. The kiss is deep and commanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and claiming me with a desperation that matches my own. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, my body rocking against him as his hands guide my movements.

Then Dare’s fingers slip between my thighs, parting me, and my gasp is swallowed by Jex’s mouth. Dare’s touch is gentle but firm, his fingers sliding through my slick heat with an expertise that leaves me trembling.

“Already so wet for us,” Dare murmurs, his voice rich and dark, satisfaction lacing every word. “You’re perfect, Violet. Absolutely perfect.”

His fingers tease me, stroking over that aching spot that makes my hips jerk helplessly. And when he finally pushes one finger inside me, then two, the stretch is delicious, my body tightening around him like I can’t stand to let him go.

“Oh God,” I moan, my head falling against Jex’s shoulder as Dare works me open with slow, deliberate movements.

“You like that?” Dare asks, his voice thick with desire. “The way my fingers feel inside you, getting you ready to take all of us?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my whole body clenching with need. “Yes, Dare… don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart,” he says with a dark chuckle. “We’re just getting started.”

And then Fox’s mouth is on my neck, his lips tracing along the sensitive line of my throat before biting down just enough to send another shiver racing through me.

“You’re gonna be begging by the time we’re done with you,” Fox whispers against my skin. “Every inch of you trembling, soaked, and so damn desperate you can’t think straight.”

Chapter Ten

Violet

May 26th

4:30 P.M

“Please,” I whimper, the word falling from my lips before I can stop it. The need is consuming, scorching through my veins and leaving me shaking.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jex murmurs, his hands sliding up my back, his mouth brushing over mine as he speaks. “Letting us touch you like this. Letting us take you apart.”

“Want us to make you feel good, Violet?” Dare asks, his fingers pressing deeper, stretching me in ways that make my head spin.

“Yes,” I choke out, my breath catching as the pleasure twists higher, a coiling, unrelenting heat. “Please. I want all of you. I need you.”

My words seem to break something in them. Jex’s hands tremble against my skin, Dare’s fingers falter for a fraction of a second, and Fox’s breathing turns ragged against my neck.

“Then you’re going to get us,” Fox growls. “Every. Damn. Inch.”

I cling to Jex’s shoulders, my nails digging into his thick muscles as Dare’s fingers press deeper. The stretch stings, but it’s the kind of ache that turns my body into a live wire. “God, she’s so fucking tight,” Dare groans. 

Dare’s fingers leave me suddenly, and I whimper at the loss, my hips twitching forward against Jex. But the sound of fabric rustling tells me exactly what’s happening.

When Dare settles back against the bed, his broad shoulders framed by the ropes of my hanging mattress, his gray sweats are gone. His cock is hard, thick, and waiting. And the way he looks at me—like I’m the sweetest, most tempting thing he’s ever seen—makes my mouth water.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Dare says, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “I want to feel that perfect little mouth of yours.”

My cheeks burn, but my body reacts before my mind can catch up. I shift on the bed, moving until I’m kneeling between Dare’s legs, my hands braced on his powerful thighs. His skin is hot beneath my palms, muscles flexing under my touch.

The need in his gaze only makes me bolder. I lower my mouth to him, my tongue sliding over his length, tasting him, learning what makes him groan and shudder. His fingers tangle in my hair, not pushing, just holding me there like he can’t stand the thought of me pulling away.

“That’s it, Violet,” Dare groans, his voice fraying at the edges. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Just like that.”

I take him deeper, the sound of his ragged breathing sending fresh waves of arousal flooding through me. I can feel the heat of Jex and Fox behind me, their eyes on me, the tension in the air thickening with every second.

But then Jex’s hands are on me again, his rough palms gliding over my ass, kneading the flesh like he’s been starving for the chance to touch me. His fingers slip between my thighs, spreading me open, and a whimper escapes my throat around Dare’s cock.

“So fucking wet,” Jex growls, his tone laced with approval and hunger. “All this from just our touch? You’ve been waiting for us, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my lips sliding off Dare’s length as the word trembles out of me.

“Good girl,” Fox purrs, his voice as smooth and lethal as ever. “You’re so damn greedy, Violet. And I love it.”

Jex’s hands slide over my shoulders, down my back, before curling around my waist. His cock presses against me from behind, his breath hot against my neck. I’m not even sure when he got fully naked. 

Jex’s fingers sliding between my folds, gathering the wetness that’s been steadily building. But he doesn’t waste any time. His cock presses against my entrance, the stretch of him slipping inside me, filling me with a slow, steady push makes me moan.

“God, Violet,” Jex groans as he sinks into me, his voice strained. “You feel so fucking good. So damn tight and perfect.”

I moan around Dare’s length, my body adjusting to the feeling of Jex buried inside me, his hips rocking in a slow, maddening rhythm. He’s keeping his movements controlled, his fingers rubbing soothing circles over my hips, grounding me even as he drives me wild.

Dare pushes slowly down my throat, making me gag before I relax, letting him in. He starts to trust, shallowly groaning. I love the feel of him down my throat. Fox is suddenly there on my other side his cock hard and leaking precum. I pop off Dare and lean over to lick him before sucking him into my mouth. 

Jex’s thrusts get more violent, pushing Fox down my throat. I cry out the best I can around his length as Jex seemingly fucks me down on Fox. The orgasm that was building crashes over me. Fox curses cumming down my throat. I drink him down before moving back to Dare. The look on his face is pure need. I lick up his length, taking it all the way down my throat. 

“God Vi.” Dare groans holding a fist full of my hair while he fucks my mouth roughly. 
I can feel Jex’s swollen knot hitting my slick-coated entrance, it feels like he is getting impossibly thicker as his thrusts stutter off rhythm. Growling loudly, he thrust forward, pushing his knot inside me. I swear I go blind as another longer orgasm hits me. I can feel him painting my insides. I cry out, causing Dare to lose it and spill himself down my throat. 

We collapse in a tangled, breathless heap, bodies pressed together as though the world might tear us apart if we dared to let go. Jex’s arms wrap around me like he’s afraid I might disappear, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath my cheek. His warmth seeps into me, soothing the parts of me left trembling and raw.

I’m not sure how long we lie there, just breathing each other in. The air is thick with the scent of us, of heat and passion and something that feels suspiciously like home. Jex’s knot is still holding us together, our bodies locked in a gentle rhythm of closeness, and neither of us seems eager to break.

My fingers trace lazy patterns along his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat begin to slow. His hand comes up to cover mine, his touch gentle and reassuring, and for a moment, I feel weightless. Safe.

“That was... more than I ever expected,” Jex murmurs, his voice rough and quiet, his lips brushing the top of my head.

“More than I could’ve ever hoped for,” I admit, my words a shaky confession. It’s still new between us, this thing that feels so much bigger than either of us knows how to handle. But right now, tangled together like this, it feels like maybe we don’t need to have all the answers.

Jex’s hold tightens, his body pressing closer to mine as if he can’t bear the thought of even the slightest distance between us. “I never thought...” His words trail off, a vulnerability in his tone that I haven’t heard before. “I never thought I’d get to have something like this. Like you.”

“None of us did.” Dare places a light kiss to my collar bone. He curls around my front. Fox crawls up and lies down with his head on my thigh. This is something I love. Cuddling after sex makes my omega very happy. A soft purr escapes me. My chest is vibrating. The room seems to freeze. 

“I didn’t know omegas could purr.” Fox murmurs. 

I laugh softly, the sound cutting off. “Neither did I.” It's quiet for a while as we relax. A thought comes to me, I should have asked before. “How did you guys find us?” 

Dare chuckles. “Romano. You’d have to ask him for the technical whatever. Basically, he caught the vehicle they used on security cameras around the house and did some mojo thing to track it through traffic cameras.” 

I laugh softly. “Sounds complicated.” 

Fox

May 28th

6:02 P.M

The movie flickers on the screen, and the volume is turned down low, just enough to fill the silence with background noise. I’m not really watching. I don’t think she is either.

Violet’s stretched out on top of me, her head tucked under my chin, one of her thighs hooked over mine like she’s staked her claim. She smells like lemon frosting and clean skin, like comfort and home, and I swear if I could bottle this moment, I’d carry it in my pocket for the rest of my damn life.

She’s in one of my t-shirts—oversized and practically swallowing her—and a pair of those tiny shorts that drive me crazy every time she shifts. My fingers trail lazily up and down her spine, over the cotton and warm skin, keeping us both grounded.

I could stay like this forever. Just her. Just peace.

Her fingers play absently with the chain around my neck, and then, soft as anything, she asks, “Fox… will you tell me about your life? Before all this?”

I stiffen for half a second. It’s not her fault. No one really asks me that—not because they don’t care, but because most people figure the past is better left buried.

But Violet isn’t most people.

I exhale slowly, fingers drifting down her back as I answer. “My parents were… the kind of people even the worst criminals wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. Addicts. Liars. Thieves. They sold information to the highest bidder, no matter who it hurt. No lines. No loyalty. Just survival.”

I feel her hand pause, resting over my ribs, like she’s bracing for what comes next.

“I called CPS on myself when I was fifteen. I knew if I didn’t, I’d end up exactly like them. Or worse.”

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt, but I feel her shift closer, like she’s trying to ease the chill that settles under my skin when I talk about it.

“Foster care wasn’t much better,” I admit. “Bounced around a couple of homes, but eventually landed in this group place. Violent. Loud. Miserable.”

There’s a pause, and then the smallest smile tugs at my lips. “That’s where I met Kingston, Jace, Romano, and Voss. They weren’t a pack then—just a bunch of older, angrier assholes trying not to fall apart. We weren’t friends at first. Hell, Voss punched me the second day I was there.”

I chuckle quietly, and so does she.

“But… I don’t know. Eventually, they started watching out for me. I wasn’t part of their pack. But they became the closest thing I’d ever had to brothers. People who gave a shit if I lived or died. That was new.”

Violet lifts her head just enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes are shining, soft and fierce all at once. “I’m glad you found them. And I’m glad you got out.”

I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “Yeah. Me too.”

She kisses me then—slow and careful, like she’s trying to speak without words. Her lips taste like warmth, paint, and sugar, and I kiss her back with everything I’ve got.

When we finally pull apart, she rests her head back on my chest, her fingers curling into the hem of my joggers like she needs to stay tethered.

And for the first time in a long time, I realize I’m not drifting anymore.

With her, I’m finally still.

I look down at her, and gods, she’s beautiful. Her curls are a mess, falling across her face, and her lips are soft and a little swollen from kissing. She’s in one of my shirts, legs tangled with mine, and even with everything we’ve seen… she looks at peace.

And I don’t want to keep it in anymore.

“Vi…” My voice is quiet, but she hums immediately, like she’s been waiting for me to speak.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, my hand resting lightly on her hip. “I need to tell you something. And I need you to hear all of it, okay?”

She shifts, just enough to lift her head and meet my eyes. Her gaze is open and curious, but calm. Steady. “Okay,” she says softly.

“I love you.” The words come out steady, clearer than I expected. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment we walked into that hell and found this angel standing bright amongst the chaos.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, but it quickly fades into stillness again. She doesn’t look away.

“You’re… incredible, Vi. You’re brave and loud and kind and chaotic in the best damn way. You didn’t just survive what happened to you—you got back up and helped us tear the whole damn place down. You never should’ve had to go through that, but you faced it head-on, and then turned around to protect others.”

My voice tightens, and I have to pause, swallowing down the raw emotion that rises next.

“And you forgave us,” I say. “Even after we disappeared for a month and left you in the dark. You still let us in. You let me in. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being grateful for that.”

Violet blinks, tears welling in her eyes, but she doesn’t look away even for a second. She shifts up, her hand gently cupping my jaw, her thumb brushing along my cheek.

“I love you too,” she whispers. “Even when I wanted to strangle you for being gone, I still wanted you. All of you.”

My chest tightens in the best kind of way, the kind that says I’ll never get enough of her. I pull her into my arms, holding her like the world could fall away and I’d still be okay, as long as she was here.

And for the first time in my life, I believe that’s true.

Dare

May 30th

1:06 P.M

Pouring over maps and surveillance images scattered across the table in our makeshift “war room” is about the last damn thing I want to be doing right now. I lean forward, elbows propped on the heavy oak surface, frustration gnawing at my patience. The dim light from the vintage lamp casts long shadows across the countless notes and intel files, making my head pound with tension. I’ve spent the last hour tracing patterns, seeking answers that stubbornly refuse to show themselves. We’ve mapped out the auction house and are trying to stake it out, but they keep things so erratic that it’s not as simple as taking out a few guards.

My thoughts shatter when Violet’s scream cuts sharply through the quiet of the house.

I’m on my feet instantly, knocking over my chair as I spin toward the door. Violet burst into the room barefoot, her short purple curls wild around her flushed face. Her eyes are wide with panic, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutches her phone so tightly her knuckles have turned ghostly white. She’s wearing an oversized black sweatshirt that hangs loosely off one shoulder, paired with soft gray leggings, clearly dressed for comfort rather than going out.

“I—I need you to take me to the hospital. Now!” Her voice trembles, catching on a sob. She rushes toward me, desperation etched into her expression. “It’s Odette. She—she’s been hurt.”

My chest seizes at the anguish and fear written plainly on her face, and in two strides, I close the distance, immediately gathering her small frame into my arms. Violet wraps her arms tightly around my neck, her legs instinctively locking around my waist as I lift her effortlessly, cradling her close.

“Jex! Fox!” I bellow into the house, urgency sharpening my voice. I turn quickly toward the doorway, Violet trembling against me, sobs wracking her body. I’ve never seen her like this—not even after everything else she’s been through. Kidnappings barely fazed her, yet whatever’s happened to Odette has her shattered completely.

Footsteps thunder down the hall, shaking the hardwood floors as both men race toward us from opposite sides of the house. Jex bursts into the room first, skidding slightly in his rush, his eyes wide with alarm. Fox appears seconds later, concern darkening his expression as his gaze fixes immediately on Violet.

“What happened?” Jex demands sharply, already reaching for his keys, adrenaline clear in his tense frame.

“It’s Odette,” I tell them quickly, rubbing Violet’s back as she cries against my shoulder, trembling in my arms. “She’s hurt, and Violet needs to get to the hospital immediately.”

Jex nods once, expression hardening into determination as he bolts out the front door without another word, racing to start the truck.

Fox moves beside me, carefully brushing Violet’s hair away from her tear-streaked face. “Which hospital, doll? Can you tell us?”

“Mercy General,” she chokes out, her voice fragile and breaking with grief. “She sounded… It was bad.”

Fox’s jaw clenches, his brown eyes shadowed with worry. “We’re going now. We’ll get you there, sweetheart.” 

“Grab her boots, will you. By the front door.” Fox leans down, snagging them. He leads the way outside, opening doors and guiding us toward the waiting truck, the engine already rumbling. Jex grips the wheel tightly, ready to speed off the moment we’re in. Violet stays curled against my chest, her sobs softer now, quieter, but still utterly heartbreaking.

I slide into the back seat, cradling her carefully. Fox jumps into the passenger side, giving Jex a quick nod. Tires squeal as Jex pulls out onto the road, accelerating rapidly toward Mercy General, tension thickening the air inside the cab.

Violet clings to me, burying her face into my neck, her breath hitching as fresh tears fall silently. My heart aches for her—for whatever happened to Odette—and I tighten my arms protectively around her small, trembling frame.

“We’ll get you there, Vi,” I promise softly, pressing a kiss to her temple, desperate to ease even a fraction of her pain. “We’ll make it in time. I swear it.”

Jex pulls the truck sharply into the parking lot of Mercy General, tires squealing slightly as he maneuvers into the closest available spot. Before we’ve even fully stopped, Violet is scrambling upright in my lap, quickly wiping tears from her reddened cheeks with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt.

“Boots,” she murmurs, voice rough and thick with anxiety as she reaches for the shoes. She shoves them onto her feet with trembling fingers, taking deep, shuddering breaths to steady herself. Fox is already out of the truck, quickly rounding the vehicle to open Violet’s door.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got you,” Fox says gently, offering his hand.

Violet grips his hand tightly, nearly stumbling out onto the pavement in her rush. Her eyes are wide, glassy with panic as she looks up at the brightly lit hospital looming in front of us. Fox gently squeezes her fingers, grounding her as Jex moves swiftly to her other side, protective as ever.

I step out, joining them as we stride quickly toward the hospital entrance. The automatic doors slide open, and we’re instantly hit by the sterile, antiseptic scent of the hospital lobby, the bright fluorescent lights harsh overhead.

Violet’s gaze darts around anxiously until it lands on Fallon and her pack, already seated in the waiting area. Fallon is curled into Kingston’s side, looking pale and visibly shaken. Her midnight-blue hair is disheveled, eyes red-rimmed, but when she sees Violet, relief floods her features.

“Vi,” Fallon whispers, immediately getting to her feet and rushing forward. Violet pulls away from us, moving just as quickly toward Fallon, and the two women collide in a fierce, desperate hug. Fallon grips Violet tightly, burying her face into her shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Fallon breathes, voice breaking slightly. “I can’t— They haven’t told us anything new yet.”

Violet holds her friend tightly, clinging to her as fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m here. I’m here now. She’ll be okay. She has to be.”

Jex, Fox, and I exchange a tense glance, silently agreeing to give them space. Kingston gives us a solemn nod of acknowledgment, the worry etched deeply into his usually composed expression. Romano and Jace look equally tense, their jaws clenched tightly. Even Voss stands quietly, a silent storm of barely-contained rage and worry vibrating beneath his stoic exterior.

Whatever happened to Odette is clearly serious, and the weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the sterile air. I move quietly closer to Violet, gently placing a comforting hand on her lower back, reminding her that she won’t face it alone, no matter what comes next.

She leans slightly into my touch, drawing strength from the support around her, even as the minutes tick painfully by.

Chapter Eleven

Violet

May 30th

4:04 P.M

I sit stiffly in the hard plastic waiting room chair, anxiety twisting my stomach into knots as I glance around the sterile hospital environment. Bright white walls glow harshly beneath cold fluorescent lights, reflecting off the polished, gray linoleum floor. The air smells faintly of disinfectant, mingled with a vague aroma of stale coffee from the vending machines across the hall.

Our packs fill the cramped space around us—Fox, Dare, and Jex positioned protectively near me, their tension palpable. Fallon sits to my right, shoulders hunched, visibly shaken. Her pack surrounds her closely: Kingston’s face carved from stone, Romano nervously adjusting his glasses, Jace pacing restlessly near the window, and Voss looming silently, eyes fixed on the nurses’ station with a terrifying intensity.

My leg bounces rapidly, unable to keep still as I stare blankly at the closed double doors leading to the operating rooms. The endless waiting has drained me, making each passing second stretch into eternity.

My thoughts spiral until I suddenly realize someone crucial is missing. I turn sharply to Fallon, alarm slicing through me. “Wait, where’s Odette’s mom?”

Fallon sighs heavily, lifting her weary gaze to mine. Her usually vibrant blue eyes are dimmed by exhaustion and worry. “She was out of town—some work conference or something. She’s trying to catch a flight back. The hospital called her first, then she called me in a panic. And I called you.”

Guilt prickles at me sharply. Odette’s mom has always treated Fallon and me like her own kids, caring for us with the same fierce protectiveness she shows Odette. It feels wrong that she isn’t here, and the realization makes my stomach churn even harder.

“Do we know anything at all?” I ask quietly, frustration leaking into my voice. It feels like we’ve been sitting here for days rather than just hours.

Fallon swallows hard, visibly gathering her composure before answering softly, “All I know is that when she got here, she was in pretty bad shape. They rushed her straight into surgery. They haven’t told us anything else.”

Her voice breaks slightly on the last word, and my heart squeezes painfully. I immediately reach over, threading my fingers tightly with hers, hoping to offer even a small measure of comfort.

“She’ll be okay,” I whisper firmly, needing to convince myself as much as Fallon. “Odette’s a tough bitch. She won’t let something like this take her down.”

Fallon snorts softly, managing a weak, fragile laugh. “Yeah, she’d probably kick all our asses if we even thought otherwise.”

I squeeze her hand, nodding fiercely, my eyes returning to those maddeningly silent doors. Deep down, beneath the fear and uncertainty, I cling desperately to the belief that Odette will pull through this—she has to. I can’t bear to consider the alternative.

What feels like hours pass in tense silence, the ticking of the large clock on the waiting room wall echoing loudly in my ears, though in reality, it’s probably only been a matter of minutes. I jump when the double doors swing open, and a doctor strides purposefully into the room, calling out Odette’s name.

Fallon and I immediately stand up, still gripping each other’s hands tightly for support. Our packs silently form a protective wall behind us, their quiet strength grounding me even as my heart pounds erratically in my chest.

The doctor is a tall, middle-aged man dressed in pale baby-blue scrubs, a white lab coat thrown hastily over them, slightly rumpled from long hours. His sandy-brown hair is streaked with silver at the temples, and faint shadows beneath his sharp, green eyes hint at exhaustion, despite the calm professionalism of his expression. He pauses briefly, glancing behind us to the group of intimidating men, then sighs and turns back to Fallon and me.

“We’re her family,” Fallon says firmly, her voice slightly hoarse but unwavering.

The doctor nods once, accepting it without argument. “She’s resting now and is going to be okay. The surgery went well; we were able to stop the internal bleeding. However, her injuries are extensive.” He pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully. “She has several broken ribs, a fractured arm, and significant bruising. It’ll take some time, but physically, she will recover.”

Relief floods through me so sharply it nearly takes my breath away. Tears blur my vision, trickling down my cheeks as I process the good news. But then a darker question claws its way to the surface of my mind, impossible to ignore.

“Was she…did they—” My voice cracks, faltering as I choke on the words, fear and dread twisting painfully in my chest. I can’t even finish the question, too afraid of the answer I already know is coming.

The doctor’s gentle expression hardens briefly, his jaw tightening with unmistakable anger, though it quickly fades back into composed professionalism. I realize with clarity that his anger isn’t at me—it’s at the cruelty of whoever hurt Odette. His steady green eyes meet mine, compassion mixed with quiet fury.

“Yes,” he answers softly, his voice carrying the heavy weight of sorrow.

That single, brutal word shatters my world completely. My knees buckle suddenly beneath me, my legs no longer able to support the crushing weight of grief that hits me like a tidal wave. Strong, warm arms catch me immediately, wrapping securely around me as I collapse against a broad chest.

My beautiful, fiery Odette—her bright orange hair, her fierce attitude, her laughter that lights up every room—has been violated and broken. The agony of it tears through me, ripping apart my heart with every breath. I cling desperately to Dare as he holds me, burying my face into his comforting warmth, sobbing helplessly into his shirt.

Around me, I feel my mates tighten their circle protectively. Fallon is clutching Kingston like he’s the only thing keeping her here. The room suddenly felt impossibly small and unbearably cold.

The doctor waits patiently, giving Fallon and me a few quiet moments to regain our composure. After what feels like an eternity, I finally pull myself away from the steady comfort of Dare’s chest, my breathing ragged and uneven. Fallon squeezes my hand again, her own cheeks damp with fresh tears.

“Can we see her?” Fallon asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes plead desperately with the doctor.

He hesitates only briefly, then nods gently. “Of course. Just the two of you for now. She needs quiet, though—she’s been heavily sedated and will likely be asleep for a few more hours.”

I swallow hard, nodding in gratitude. Dare’s warm hand gently brushes my back, reassuring me silently that they’ll all be here waiting. Fallon grabs my hand slowly, and together we follow the doctor through the sterile, silent hallway toward Odette’s room.

The sound of our footsteps echoes quietly off polished floors as we walk, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and distant beeping of hospital monitors filling the heavy silence. My heart pounds painfully, anxiety squeezing my chest tighter with each step we take toward the room where my beautiful, fierce friend lies broken.

The doctor pauses at a door marked Room 312, gently pushing it open and gesturing for us to enter. Fallon steps in first with me close behind. 

The room is dim, bathed in soft golden light from a lamp in the corner. The air smells strongly of antiseptic, mingled with her faint blueberry pancakes scent. My gaze immediately locks onto Odette’s sleeping form, and my breath hitches painfully in my throat.

She looks impossibly small and fragile lying there, pale skin nearly blending with the stark white hospital sheets. Her vibrant orange hair fans out gently against the pillow, a shocking contrast to the bruises blooming vividly along her jaw and cheekbone. An IV drips steadily into her slender arm, the quiet rhythm of monitors reassuringly signaling she’s stable, though the sight is heartbreaking.

Fallon squeezes my hand tighter, her body shaking slightly beside me as fresh tears stream silently down her face. “Odette,” she whispers brokenly, voice thick with grief and love.

Slowly, we move closer, carefully settling into the chairs positioned at Odette’s bedside. Fallon gently takes one of Odette’s hands in hers, thumb brushing tenderly over her knuckles. I reach out hesitantly, lightly stroking the silky strands of her hair, careful not to wake her.

“We’re here, Odette,” I whisper softly, voice trembling as tears blur my vision again. “You’re safe now. We’re not going anywhere.”

I rest my forehead against the mattress, breathing in shaky, uneven breaths. Fallon mirrors my position, the two of us quietly holding vigil at our friend’s side, silently promising we won’t leave her alone again—no matter what comes next.

Jex

June 6th

10:22 A.M

I stand quietly beside Violet, watching as she fusses carefully over Odette, double-checking every detail for what has to be the sixth or seventh time. We’re gathered near the front entrance of Mercy General, the warm sunlight offering a sharp contrast to the lingering tension and sorrow still hanging heavily over us. The hospital entrance buzzes quietly around us—families coming and going, nurses and patients navigating wheelchairs and equipment, the scent of antiseptic occasionally drifting on the air.

“You sure you have everything you need?” Violet asks gently, concern etched deeply in her expressive eyes. My omega’s fierce loyalty radiates off her like a protective force field. Seeing her this worried, this fiercely protective, twists my gut. It kills me that the first time we meet her beloved friend Odette, it’s under circumstances as devastating as these.

Odette, who sits carefully in a wheelchair provided by the hospital, gives Violet a small, tired smile. Her bruised face is healing slowly, still marked with painful shades of purple and yellow, her vivid orange hair pulled loosely into a braid over one shoulder. She looks fragile but determined, gripping her small bag tightly.

“Yes, Vi, I promise. I have everything.” She sighed softly, glancing toward her mother’s van, which was waiting patiently a few feet away. “I’m staying with Mom, and Henry already promised he’d come stay with us to keep me safe.”

She pauses thoughtfully, her eyes darkening slightly, distant for a brief moment. Her voice softens, filled with quiet emotion as she continues, “You know, Henry’s pissed, not at me, but at himself. He’s angry he let me talk him into going back to Fallon’s mom instead of staying to protect me. He’s always treated us like his daughters, and right now he’s enraged. I’ve never seen him lose his cool like this, Vi. Honestly, I never want to see him cry again for as long as I live.”

Violet kneels in front of Odette, her eyes glistening with emotion as she takes her friend’s hand, squeezing it firmly. “It wasn’t his fault, and definitely not yours. None of us could’ve predicted something like this. We’re all here for you, O. Anything you need.”

Odette nods slowly, blinking back tears. Violet leans forward carefully, hugging her friend gently but firmly, mindful of Odette’s healing injuries. “I just wish I remembered what happened.” She whispers.

Violet and I then carefully help Odette from the wheelchair into her mom’s waiting van, where her mother, Vaila—a pretty older beta woman with silver-streaked auburn hair pulled neatly into a loose bun—waits anxiously. Vaila is clearly shaken, as she hovers uncertainty. She holds her hands half-raised, unsure where or how to help without causing Odette pain, visibly fighting tears.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” Vaila whispers softly, eyes darting nervously to Violet and me with gratitude and sadness. “Let’s get you home safe.”

Violet gently closes the door after ensuring Odette is safely buckled in. She steps back, leaning slightly against my side for comfort. I wrap an arm securely around her waist, drawing strength from her warmth as we watch the van pull slowly away.

“She’ll be okay,” I whisper reassuringly into her hair, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of her head. “She’s got people who love her. Including you.”

Violet nods silently, blinking rapidly to hold back her tears. She exhales shakily, turning fully into my embrace, gripping my shirt as we watch until the van disappears down the road.

I gently squeeze Violet’s shoulder, sensing the tension still radiating off her as we stand quietly on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. The warmth of the afternoon sun seems almost out of place given everything we’ve just gone through—Violet’s friend brutalized, the bitter aftertaste of helplessness still lingering heavily in the air.

She’s quiet beside me, eyes distant, arms crossed tightly as if she could physically hold her emotions in. I hate seeing her this way—so lost, so drained from pain I can’t erase. But maybe I can give her something else, a distraction—purpose.

Leaning down, I brush my lips softly against the shell of her ear, my voice low and conspiratorial. “I think I know exactly what might take your mind off things.”

She blinks up at me slowly, eyes shadowed but curious. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

I let a slight smirk curve my lips, making sure my voice holds enough dark promise to catch her attention. “Helping us destroy an auction house.”

She snorts softly, but the spark of interest immediately lights up her eyes. Something fierce and determined replaces the vulnerability, her posture straightening as her confidence returns. A dangerous smile spreads slowly across her face, transforming her from wounded to warrior.

“You’re damn right,” she says firmly, voice stronger now, eyes glittering with renewed fire. “I definitely feel like fucking someone’s day up.”

I chuckle darkly, pride swelling in my chest as I wrap an arm securely around her waist, guiding her toward our truck. “That’s my girl. Let’s go ruin some lives.”

Fox

June 6th

12:12 P.M

The library—the so-called war room—is charged with intensity, the air humming with quiet tension as we finalize our plans. Maps and detailed surveillance photos spread across the heavy oak table, pinned down by mugs of coffee and empty takeout containers. Fallon’s meticulous notes are scattered amongst them, scribbled in purple ink with annotations so precise it’s almost terrifying.

Violet sits beside me, legs tucked underneath her on the oversized armchair, her purple curls twisted into a messy bun. She’s quiet but focused, blue eyes sharp as she traces a fingertip over the layout of the auction house. I gently rub my thumb along the back of her neck, a silent reassurance I know she appreciates.

Across from us, Fallon and Kingston have their heads bent together, quietly debating entry points and exit routes. Fallon is fierce, passionate, radiating controlled fury that mirrors the mood of the room. Kingston is calm as always, but there’s a cold edge of barely-restrained violence beneath his careful composure.

“We’ve confirmed guard shifts,” Jex announces from beside me, tapping a printout listing names and times. His voice is steady, authoritative. “The place is heavily guarded, but their rotations leave a fifteen-minute gap between shifts at 1:45 AM. That’s our best opportunity to get in undetected.”

Dare leans against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, expression calculating. “And this new ‘M’ person is running the auction. We have actual information this time. Marcus Whitlock,” he says, voice dripping with disdain. “He’s cautious. Careful. Has no known vulnerabilities other than his arrogance. He’ll be surrounded by guards until the bidding begins. Then he’ll want to be front and center.”

“Meaning he’ll be exposed,” Romano points out, pushing up his glasses with a smirk. “Perfect time to take him out.”

“Exactly,” Jace agrees, studying a photograph of Marcus—sharp-eyed, smug, in a tailored suit. “But we have to be careful. He’s well-connected, and people notice when men like him vanish.”

Violet leans forward slightly, eyes narrowed with determination. “Then we don’t vanish him—yet. First, we dismantle his operation, free the omegas, and expose him. Make it impossible for him to hide.”

I glance at her, warmth swelling in my chest at the fierce confidence radiating from my omega. “Agreed,” I say firmly, scanning the faces around the room. “We strike fast, hard, and coordinated. Fallon and Violet can move in to handle the omegas—calming them and getting them out safely. Voss will go with them. Kingston, Dare, Jex, and I will infiltrate security, neutralize guards quietly, and secure the exits.”

“Romano will run tech, shutting down surveillance and keeping comms open,” Kingston adds, nodding in approval. “Jace will be our eyes outside, intercepting reinforcements and handling any surprises.”

We all exchange glances, a quiet surge of determination binding us together. Violet squeezes my hand softly, her expression fierce, unwavering.

“Marcus won’t know what hit him,” she whispers, the quiet intensity of her voice sharpening every word.

No, he definitely won’t—not after tonight.

“Thank you for including us even though we both know your alphas are probably pissed we will be in the middle of the danger.” Violet gives us a half smile. 

I look at her and chuckle. “And if we asked you to stay here?” 

She cocks an eyebrow at me. Fallon snorts, “We’d just go anyway.” 

“I thought so.”

Dare

June 8th

12:42 P.M

The sun’s warm, low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the backyard as a gentle breeze moves through the trees. It’s one of those rare quiet days—the kind we never used to get before her. Even though we know we are about to be knee deep in it. While we are getting confirmation on action, we have this rare moment to ourselves, and I’ll be dammed if I wasn’t going to take it.

Violet’s sitting a few feet away on a weathered stool, perched in front of a tall canvas propped up on an easel. She’s wearing a loose black tank top and shorts smudged with flecks of purple and blue paint, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into her wild curls. Her bare feet tap absently against the patio pavers as she works, brush moving with sure, easy strokes. She’s in her element, completely focused—but I know she’s listening. She always is.

I’m stretched out on the outdoor sofa, shirt off, one arm slung behind my head, a glass of water sweating on the table beside me. Watching her paint is one of my favorite things. She doesn’t even realize how peaceful she makes the world feel.

“You ever been to the coast?” I ask, letting my voice drift lazily through the air.

She hums. “Only once, but it was gray and rainy. I kinda liked it.”

“My mom’s place is about twenty minutes from the beach. Warm most of the year. Smells like jasmine and saltwater. You’d probably love it.”

Violet glances back over her shoulder, giving me a soft smile before returning to her canvas. “You close with your family?”

“Yeah,” I say, a little surprised by how easily the answer comes. “At least, now I am. I grew up with two younger sisters, and my mom—she’s the glue. Strong as hell, kind of loud, and she absolutely loses her mind over anything romantic. When I told her about you…” I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “Let’s just say she cried and threatened to show up uninvited in the same phone call.”

That earns a genuine laugh from Violet, bright and beautiful, and it pulls something loose in my chest.

“She’s just happy I found you,” I add, quieter now. “She worried I’d keep pushing people away. That I’d forget how to want a pack outside of the job.”

Violet pauses mid-stroke, her body still for a moment before she sets her brush down carefully and turns fully toward me.

“You didn’t forget,” she says, meeting my gaze. “You just hadn’t found the right reason to want it yet.”

I blink at her, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. “Maybe. Or maybe I just hadn’t found you.”

She stands slowly, walking over to me with paint still smudged on her fingertips, and settles herself on the edge of the sofa beside me. Her hand rests gently on my chest, right over my heart, and I cover it with mine.

“I want to meet her,” she says softly. “Your mom.”

A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “She’s going to love you.”

Violet grins, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek before whispering, “Tell me more, Dare. Tell me everything.”

So I do.

And for the first time in years, I feel like every word matters.

The sun has shifted lower in the sky, casting long amber shadows across the backyard. Violet returned to her stool after curling up beside me, her brush lazily dancing over the canvas, but we’re not really talking anymore. It’s the kind of silence that feels lived in—like something shared, not empty.

I’m still on the outdoor sofa, head tilted back, eyes half-closed, just listening. To the rustle of trees. To the soft sound of bristles against canvas. To her breathing. Every detail grounds me more than I think she realizes.

After a few minutes, I hear her set the brush down gently in a jar of murky water. Then footsteps—bare and careful—cross the stone path. She doesn’t say anything right away; she just eases down into the space beside me, legs tucked under her, one hand finding mine where it rests on my knee.

I turn toward her, and there she is—blue eyes steady, cheeks kissed with the faintest blush of sun, lips parted like she’s working up to something.

And then, in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from her, she says, “I love you.”

I blink, stunned for a heartbeat. And she smiles—this small, radiant thing that shatters me all over again.

“I do,” she repeats, stronger this time. “I love you, Dare. You’re… everything I didn’t even know I needed. Strong without being loud. Protective without ever making me feel caged. You always make space for me to just be.”

My throat tightens. I don’t dare interrupt her.

Chapter Twelve

Dare

June 8th

1:05 P.M

“You’re an incredible Alpha,” she continues, fingers tightening slightly around mine. “Not because you’re dominant or dangerous or can tear through an enemy like paper—though, yeah, that’s super hot—but because you care so quietly. So deeply. You’re the one I feel safest with when I’m not sure what I feel at all.”

She shifts closer, pressing her forehead against my chest. “I couldn’t have dreamed a better pack, and you’re a big part of why it feels like home. You don’t have to be anything more or less than exactly who you are, Dare. You’re enough. You always have been.”

I don’t even realize I’ve moved until my arms are around her, pulling her into my lap, burying my face in her curls to hide the way my voice breaks when I whisper, “You wreck me, Vi. In the best way.”

She leans back just enough to look up at me, tears in her eyes now, but smiling. “Good.”

And just like that, with her wrapped around me and the sun sinking low behind us, I know—this is the moment I’ll remember when everything else goes quiet. This is the one that matters.

Because she sees me.

And still, she stayed.

She’s still in my lap, warm and real and wrapped in sunlight and trust, and I don’t want to let her go.

Violet’s fingers trail down my jaw, tracing the edge of my jaw like she’s memorizing me with touch. “You’re blushing,” she murmurs, clearly amused.

“Yeah, well,” I say, voice low as I rest my forehead against hers, “you just hit me with a full-blown confession like I’m not madly in love with you already.”

She grins, eyes sparkling, and leans in to kiss me. It starts slow—just the gentle press of lips, her hands cradling my face like I’m something fragile. Like I’m something precious. I kiss her back with the same reverence, my fingers running up the curve of her spine to hold her steady against me.

Her body shifts, instinctive and fluid, until she’s straddling my lap, arms wrapped around my neck. The kiss deepens—still unhurried, but no less consuming. Her scent floods my senses—sweet lemon frosting, sunshine, and a hint of paint—and it settles something deep in my chest I didn’t realize was still restless.

My hands move down, gripping the hem of her oversized tee. “Can I?” I murmur against her lips.

Violet nods, her breath catching, pupils blown wide. “Yeah, Alpha.”

I lift her shirt slowly, kissing every inch of skin as I reveal it—her ribs, her stomach, the swell of her hips. She shivers under my touch, but doesn’t hesitate. Her hands are already working on my shirt, dragging it over my head, her palms smoothing over my chest like she’s claiming it.

This isn’t rushed. It’s not about the hunger—though it’s there, coiled low and heavy—it’s about showing up. Letting her feel, through every touch, kiss, and whispered word, how deeply I see her. How much I want her.

We shift together, finding rhythm in the quiet. Her thighs cradle my hips, and I hold her like she might disappear if I don’t. But she doesn’t. She’s here. Moaning softly into my mouth, tugging my hair, guiding my hands where she wants them.

Our breaths grow heavier, movements bolder. But through it all, she’s watching me, and I’m watching her—like we’re trying to memorize this, because somehow, it still feels like a dream neither of us can believe is real.

And when she gasps my name, her forehead pressed to mine, her hands clutching my shoulders like I’m the only solid thing in the world—that’s when I know.

And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to her she made the right choice.

Jex

June 10th

1:45 A.M

The auction house stands like a monolith in the dark—silent, squat, and bloated with secrets. My pulse thrums, low and steady, as Kingston gives the signal to move. One sharp nod. That’s all we need.

Fox adjusts his grip on his weapon beside me, calm and dangerous as always. I match his pace as we close in on the east side entrance, my own gun cradled in my hands, my blade tucked close and humming with purpose.

Romano’s voice crackles through our earpieces. “Cameras down. You’ve got a fifteen-minute blind spot starting now.”

We glide forward like shadows with teeth, Fox slipping ahead to disable the side door lock in seconds. It clicks open, and the black swallows us whole. No one speaks. Our breath is steady. Footfalls light. Inside, the place smells like money and rot.

Romano guides us through the twisted halls with surgical precision. Voss peels off to link with Violet and Fallon—his presence is quiet, cold, and terrifying. He’ll burn this building down if either of them gets touched. No question. They vanish into a side corridor, heading for the holding cells.

Jace’s voice filters in quietly through the comms. “Perimeter clear. No movement. Still quiet.”

Kingston leads the charge, all sharp lines and barely leashed violence. We round a corner—and freeze. Two guards. Armed. Alert.

Kingston signals. Fox lunges, snapping one man’s neck in a clean, brutal twist. I handle the second—catch his arm mid-swing, twist until his shoulder gives with a muffled pop, then drag him into a chokehold. He slumps against me, limp and unconscious, in under ten seconds.

We pull the bodies into a supply closet. Fox locks the door with a soft click behind us.

Everything in me is dialed in—my senses razor-sharp, my blood thrumming hot. There’s a calm that comes with this kind of work, a lethal kind of peace. Each hallway we clear is methodical, fast, and silent. Just like training. Just like hundreds of ops before.

Except this time, Violet’s inside.

Her voice murmurs through the comms, steady but strained. “We’ve reached the omega room. A dozen inside—alive. We’re getting them out.”

The tightness in my chest eases, just a bit. She’s okay. For now.

We reach the auction floor doors, every muscle coiled and waiting. Kingston glances at us once, green eyes dark with wrath.

Marcus is behind that door.

“One… two… three.”

We breach.

Chaos explodes.

Alarms blare. Gunfire cracks through the vaulted space. Buyers scream and scatter. Bidders dive for cover as Marcus leaps off the podium, eyes wild.

“Marcus Whitlock!” Kingston’s voice booms above the noise, perfectly calm. “This ends tonight.” But Marcus is a cockroach. Instead of going down, he hides behind his guards—wave after wave of mercs in tactical gear swarm us.

No matter. We go to work.

Fox plows forward like a wrecking ball, fists flying. I move with him, knife gleaming, my strikes precise, silent, devastating. Blood sprays across polished marble. A body crumples beside me, and I don’t stop. Dare is a whirlwind behind me. We fight like one unit—trained, brutal, clean.

I don’t even register the ache in my knuckles anymore. Just Marcus. Then it’s done. Bodies everywhere. Breathing hard, I scan the room. No Marcus. “Fuck!” I bark, slamming a bloodied fist into the wall. “He slipped!”

Kingston’s voice cuts through the static. “Move. He’s still inside.”

We storm through the back halls—dark, tight, silent. Marcus isn’t getting out of this building. Not this time. I’d tear the whole damn place down with my bare hands if it meant getting Violet back.

I tap my comms. “Jace. Status?”

“Still inside. No visual. Stay sharp.”

We sweep deeper into the compound. Fox and I fan out around Kingston, every hallway a threat. My blade is already red, still warm from the last man who tried to slow me down.

Then—I hear it.

A muffled sound. A shout.

My heart claws its way into my throat.

Fox’s head jerks toward the sound. I raise my fist—signal to halt. We edge toward the intersection of three halls. There, in the middle, stands Marcus.

And he has Violet.

His arm is locked around her waist, a knife pressed tight against her throat. Her legs dangle, tiny compared to his hulking frame, blood smeared across her skin, her curls wild, mouth stained crimson.

My vision goes white-hot.

But then she grins. A slow, feral, wicked thing that slices right through my panic. She winks—winks—at me, bloodied and bruised like some vengeful goddess. “Don’t make a short joke,” she drawls with venomous sweetness. “Or I’m kicking you in the shin the second I get down.”

The laugh that rips out of me is half-mad, half relief. She’s not scared. She’s pissed. And she’s waiting for us to finish the job. I adjust my grip on the blade in my hand. Every breath, every heartbeat narrows to this moment.

Marcus has no idea he’s already dead.

Dare

June 10th

2:35 P.M

“Don’t worry,” she drawls, voice calm and almost amused despite the blade pressed to her neck, “None of the blood’s mine.”

Marcus yanks her upward slightly, clearly panicking, but he only manages to make himself look absurd as he tries unsuccessfully to hide his tall, bulky frame behind her petite body. Violet’s legs dangle a good foot off the ground, toes barely brushing the floor.

She narrows her eyes at us playfully, despite the knife. “If anyone makes a short joke, I’m kicking you right in the shins when this is done.”

Fox snorts quietly, shoulders shaking slightly in amused disbelief, while Jex’s eyes glitter dangerously, tension rippling through him as he assesses the situation. Kingston’s expression darkens with lethal fury.

Marcus shouts frantically, desperation cracking his voice. “Stay back! I’ll kill her, I swear!”

I step forward, the sight of Marcus clutching Violet against him sending a surge of cold fury pulsing through my veins. My voice cuts through the tension, each word measured, icy with lethal promise. “If you harm her, Marcus, your death won’t be quick or merciful. Put the knife down now, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

Violet huffs loudly, visibly annoyed, despite the blade pressed tightly to her throat. Her brilliant blue eyes roll dramatically, unimpressed as always. “Oh, please. This jackass could barely pick me up. If he’d just put me down, I’d handle him myself.”

Marcus snarls, panic sharpening his grip, pressing the blade tighter against her skin. A thin trickle of blood appears, but Violet remains perfectly still, fearless. Her gaze locks onto mine, and I catch the briefest flicker of her eyebrow—a signal.

Without waiting another heartbeat, Violet moves with startling speed. She jerks her head back sharply, knocking Marcus’s nose with the back of her skull. His head snaps back, blood spurting as he cries out, loosening his grip just enough for Violet to drive her elbow ruthlessly into his stomach. He wheezes, doubling slightly forward, struggling to breathe.

In that same instant, Fox lunges forward, movements fast and brutal. He seizes Marcus’s wrist, twisting violently until the knife clatters uselessly to the ground. Jex is right behind him, pulling Violet swiftly from Marcus’s weakened grasp, immediately folding her safely into his protective hold.

Rage consumes me, and I waste no time closing the distance. My fist slams directly into Marcus’s face, the satisfying crunch of his jaw shattering beneath my knuckles echoing through the corridor. He collapses instantly, hitting the floor with a pathetic groan, blood streaming from his broken face.

Chest heaving, I glance back at Violet. Her face is flushed, blood smeared across her cheek, purple curls wild—but she’s alive, eyes bright with adrenaline and triumph. She flashes me a wickedly satisfied grin, lifting her thumb in an ironic salute.

Violet

June 10th

10 minutes earlier

My pulse pounds loudly in my ears as Fallon, Voss, and I quietly slip through the dim, narrow corridor, following Romano’s precise instructions whispered through our comms. I grip the handle of my knife tightly, fingers flexing with anticipation, adrenaline coursing through me like liquid fire.

“Next door on your left,” Romano murmurs sharply. “Guards stationed inside—four of them. Omegas are being held in cages.”

We pause just outside, Fallon exchanging a look with Voss, her eyes practically glowing with a terrifying kind of excitement. Voss is quiet, cold, but fury radiates from him. The man is always intense, but tonight he’s pure lethal energy wrapped in calm silence.

I nod sharply at Fallon, inhaling deeply, steadying my nerves. Fallon counts silently, mouthing the numbers: three…two…one.

We explode through the door simultaneously, catching the guards completely off guard. I barely register the terrified cries of the omegas caged around us as Fallon and Voss launch themselves at the closest guards with brutal, ruthless efficiency. Fallon moves like a hurricane, vicious and precise, her blade slicing mercilessly through flesh, while Voss is pure ferocity, silent and deadly.

I throw myself forward, dodging a wild swing from one of the guards and swiftly sinking my knife deep into his thigh. He howls, stumbling to his knees as I follow up with a brutal kick to the side of his head. He shakes it off and lunges for me again. I spin out of reach, lashing out with my knife again. My attacks are more controlled than Fallon’s—but still fierce, still deadly. In a moment, my blade is buried deep in his chest, right into his heart. I yank my blade a little too hard, and a spray of blood hits me in the face. I sigh. Gross. 

Within moments, the guards lie incapacitated at our feet, all of them dead. Fallon wipes blood from her blade, a satisfied smirk curving her lips.

“I swear, next time, I want a sword,” I joke breathlessly, my heart hammering as I catch Fallon’s eyes. “Knives are way too small for this kind of dramatic entrance.”

Fallon laughs sharply, stepping forward to slap my palm in a quick, triumphant high-five. “Hell yes, girl. We’ll go sword shopping after.”

Ignoring our banter, Voss moves swiftly to search the fallen guards, tossing a ring of keys toward us. Fallon and I immediately start unlocking cages, comforting the frightened omegas inside. They’re shaken and wary but clearly better cared for than the others we’ve seen before—clean and reasonably healthy but terrified nonetheless.

“You’re safe now,” Fallon murmurs gently, helping one trembling omega to her feet. “We’re getting you out of here.”

She and Voss begin ushering the omegas toward the side door, toward Jace, waiting outside with an extraction vehicle. I hurry toward the last cage, quickly fitting the key into the lock, heart aching as I see the frightened face of the omega inside. “There's more omegas.” Her voice is nothing but a rasp. “There's another location with a lot of omegas.” 

“We will find and rescue them too.” 

“You don’t understand. The man that took us isn’t in charge.”

“What do you mean?” 

She licks her lips, whispering. It's an omega fight ring. I came from there.” 

A sudden shout and sickening thud behind me sends icy dread crawling down my spine. I whirl around to see Voss crumpled to the ground, Fallon hunched protectively over him, eyes wide in shock. Marcus Whitlock stands above them, wild-eyed and desperate, a heavy baton clenched tightly in his hand.

“Voss!” Fallon cries out, voice thick with panic and fury.

Footsteps thunder in the hallway behind us—our packs approaching fast. Marcus’s gaze snaps to me, desperation and madness flashing across his features. He lunges forward, grabbing my arm roughly, knife falling from my grip as he yanks me backward. Panic surges, but I see the lock I’d just opened dangling loosely on the cage door.

“Run!” I yell fiercely at the omega inside, kicking out desperately and knocking the cage door open. “Get out! Go!”

Marcus drags me roughly toward the exit, his breath hot and ragged against my ear. I struggle violently, twisting and kicking, fighting with every ounce of strength I have left. But his grip is unyielding, frantic.

“Stop struggling!” Marcus snarls, dragging me from the room. “Or I’ll kill you right now!”

I grit my teeth, heart racing as I hear Fallon calling my name frantically behind me, and the shouts of my pack echoing closer. Marcus hauls me further down the corridor, desperation sharpening his grip, but deep inside, I know my pack is coming.

They won’t let him get far—and neither will I.

Marcus’s arm tightens painfully around my waist, his breath ragged against my ear, the cold press of the blade digging into my throat. I barely dare to breathe, my pulse pounding furiously beneath the sharp edge. The hallway fills suddenly with the commanding presence of my mates—Dare, Fox, and Jex—alongside Kingston, their eyes blazing with deadly fury.

Dare steps forward, his expression chillingly calm, eyes hard as ice as he locks onto Marcus. His voice slices through the air, lethally precise. “If you harm her, Marcus, your death won’t be quick or merciful. Put the knife down now, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

I roll my eyes dramatically, letting out an exasperated huff despite the blade pressed tight to my skin. “Oh, please,” I mutter sarcastically. “This jackass can barely hold me. I could handle this myself if he’d just put me down.”

Marcus snarls in frustration, pressing the knife harder against my throat in a weak attempt to silence me. I wince slightly as a thin trickle of blood trails down my skin, but I refuse to show fear. My eyes meet Dare’s, and I flick my eyebrow in a subtle signal—ready to move.

Without another heartbeat, I act swiftly, sharply throwing my head backward and connecting with Marcus’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Warm blood spurts across the back of my neck as Marcus cries out, his grip loosening just enough for me to jam my elbow viciously into his gut. He wheezes, doubling forward and gasping for breath.

Fox lunges forward in that instant, moving with ruthless precision. He grabs Marcus’s wrist, twisting violently until the knife clatters harmlessly to the floor. Jex immediately pulls me away, hauling me protectively into his chest. His arms tighten fiercely around me, strong and secure as relief floods through my veins.

I watch with dark satisfaction as Dare’s fist collides brutally with Marcus’s face, shattering his jaw with an audible crunch. Marcus hits the ground with a pitiful groan, blood pooling around his head as he lies defeated.

Breathing hard, adrenaline still coursing through me, I grin wickedly up at Dare and flash him a teasing thumbs-up, despite the blood smeared across my cheek and my disheveled curls.

“Took you boys long enough,” I tease breathlessly, eyes glittering with amusement. But the humor fades quickly as reality crashes down around us. My voice drops, heavy with the weight of Marcus’s earlier taunts. “But we have a bigger problem.”

Jex’s hold on me tightens instinctively, protectiveness radiating from every inch of him. Fox and Kingston immediately step closer, tension vibrating through all of us.

“What problem?” Kingston demands sharply, eyes scanning the corridor warily.

I grit my teeth, anger simmering deep in my chest as I glance back toward the shadowed hallway behind me. “There were only supposed to be a dozen omegas here. But the last omega said something before you arrived—there’s another location. They’re holding at least twice that many, and Marcus isn’t even the one in charge.”

Fox curses sharply under his breath, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration. Dare exchanges a dark, tense glance with Kingston, the grim realization clear on their faces. Marcus was just a puppet, expendable and replaceable.

“Fuck,” Fox growls bitterly.

I nod slowly, determination hardening my voice. “Exactly. Whoever’s really pulling the strings is still out there—and they’re bigger, more dangerous, and far more ruthless than we thought.”

Dare curses under his breath. “What are we missing?” 

The next words I say feel like acid. “It’s an omega fight ring.”

***

Flames roar hungrily, climbing the walls and swallowing the darkness as we stand in silence, watching the building burn. The heat is intense, licking at our faces and illuminating every line of exhaustion and fury etched into my pack’s expressions.

Beside me, Fox’s eyes reflect the firelight, his jaw set in a fierce, unyielding line. Jex stands close, strong arms crossed over his chest, his usually calm demeanor edged with dangerous satisfaction. Dare rests a gentle hand on the small of my back, quietly grounding me even as the inferno rages before us.

Fallon and her pack linger nearby, Kingston’s arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. Voss stands rigidly, expression unreadable, while Romano and Jace murmur quietly, checking on the rescued omegas waiting safely in vehicles behind us.

I take a slow, deep breath, inhaling the scent of burning wood, smoke, and destruction. It feels symbolic—cleansing, even. Destroying this building isn’t just about erasing a horrible place; it’s about dismantling everything it represents. No more auctions. No more cages. At least not here.

“We got everything important from the office,” Fallon murmurs quietly, her eyes hard as she watches the flames climb higher, glass windows exploding from the heat. “Names, addresses, financial trails. That stack has enough paperwork to start dismantling their entire network.”

“Good,” I reply softly, my voice fierce despite the exhaustion settling deep in my bones. “It’s a start, at least.”

Fox reaches for my hand, his fingers threading gently through mine, offering comfort without words. I squeeze back tightly, silently thanking him for being my anchor amid the chaos.

After another long, heavy moment, Jex shifts, glancing toward me with a concerned expression. “We should go, Violet. Staying much longer is risky.”

I nod slowly, turning away from the burning building. Dare keeps his hand steady on my back as we walk toward the vehicles, but I pause briefly, glancing back one final time. The building is fully engulfed now, and its destruction is absolute.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper, knowing this isn’t the end. There is a fight coming whether we are ready or not. 

Chapter Thirteen

Jex

June 10th

9:23 A.M

The sun’s just starting to spill through the curtains in lazy streaks, casting pale gold across Violet’s curls where her head rests on my chest. She’s awake—I can tell by the way her fingers absently trace slow, soothing circles on my stomach—but neither of us have spoken. Not yet. There’s something nice about the silence. Easy. Real.

I shift slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her lemon frosting scent, a little dulled from sleep but no less addictive. She sighs against me, and her leg drapes more firmly across mine like she’s settling in deeper. Mine. Our omega. And we’re finally getting a moment without a crisis breathing down our necks.

“You ever wonder how we ended up here?” I murmur after a while, voice still rough from sleep.

Violet lets out a soft, sleepy laugh. “You mean here as in ‘in my nest,’ or ‘in the middle of dismantling a trafficking empire’?”

I grin at the ceiling. “Both are wild, honestly. But I was thinking more about this. You and me. Pack. Home.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then nudges me gently. “You’re stalling. I can hear it in your voice. Spill, big guy.”

I snort. “That obvious?”

She hums, smug.

I stretch one arm over my head and exhale slowly. “My parents were nomads—real wanderers. Never stayed in one place longer than six months. They used to say the Earth would speak to them when it was time to move on.” I roll my eyes. “What that actually meant was they had no jobs, no structure, and no idea how to raise a kid who didn’t want to live out of a school bus painted with tie-dye suns.”

Violet lifts her head just enough to glance up at me, her expression soft and curious. “So you moved around a lot?”

“Constantly,” I nod. “Desert one month, mountains the next. I didn’t even have a birth certificate until I was eight, and that was only because I got bit by a raccoon and needed shots.” I smirk as she stifles a laugh. “I lived more in forests and backroads than actual neighborhoods. My parents were all about peace, love, and communal living—but it never felt stable. Never felt like home.”

“That sounds…” She hesitates, eyes flicking over my face. “Lonely.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “It was.”

She presses a soft kiss just over my heart, and I swear I feel it echo all the way through me.

“What about you?” I ask quietly. “You always feel rooted somewhere?”

Violet shifts, her cheek returning to my chest. “I grew up with my grandmother. My parents were... just never around. No letters, no calls. I don’t even have a picture of them. My grandma raised me in this old creaky house with floral wallpaper and hummingbird feeders in every window. She was stubborn and sarcastic and made the best grilled cheese in the world.”

I smile, even though I can hear the ache creeping into her voice.

“She passed in her sleep a few years ago,” Violet adds softly. “Left me the house. It’s old, drafty, and kind of falling apart, but it’s mine. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really had that felt safe. Felt like mine.”

I pull her a little closer, a gentle squeeze that says I’m here, I hear you.

“I’m glad you had her,” I murmur. “She sounds like she would’ve terrified Fox.”

Violet snorts. “Oh, she would’ve made him cry.”

We fall into silence again, but this time it’s heavier—full of memories, losses, and the quiet realization that maybe we both grew up a little untethered… and found our anchor in each other.

“I don’t know much about staying,” I say softly, brushing a few strands of her hair off her cheek, “but I’m learning.”

She tilts her head just enough to meet my eyes, her fingers resting lightly against my chest. “You’re doing pretty damn good so far.”

I smile faintly, but there’s more I want to say—more she deserves to know.

“I didn’t really start to settle until I met Fox and Dare. We were all dumped into the same unit when we joined the government program. It was messy back then—classified missions, low survival rates, all that. They gave us orders, and we got used to being weapons instead of people. You didn’t make friends. You made exits.”

Violet doesn’t say anything, just listens—really listens—and that alone does something to the tightness in my chest.

“Fox was the first to challenge that mindset,” I continue. “He said if we had to work together, we might as well stop pretending we weren’t already a pack. Dare didn’t say much about it—he never does—but he stuck around. The three of us just… started to move together.”

I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to find the right words.

“We bought this house thinking we needed a central location. Somewhere to regroup. Sleep between missions. That’s all it ever was—a base. Temporary.”

I look back down at Violet, and there she is: tucked against me, soft and warm and real, her bright eyes watching me like she already knows what I’m about to say.

“But with you?” I whisper, my voice rough with the truth of it. “This is the first time I’ve felt like I’m not waiting for the next exit. You’re not just a place to rest. You feel like home, Vi.”

She blinks slowly, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes—but her smile is radiant, and steady.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I’ve been looking for mine too.”

And just like that, I know I’ll never leave. Not unless she tells me to. And even then, it’d take all three of them to drag me away.

Violet’s fingers trail lightly along my jaw, her eyes locked on mine. That soft little smile curves her lips, but there’s something deeper behind it now—something tender and warm and so achingly open it nearly undoes me.

I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. She doesn’t. Her breath hitches as my mouth brushes over hers, soft and reverent at first—more a promise than a kiss.

Her hand slips into my hair, fingertips curling against my scalp as she kisses me back, slow and exploratory, like we have all the time in the world. And maybe we do. Maybe for once, there’s no rush. No mission. No deadline. Just her and me, and the soft morning light wrapping us in gold.

I shift slightly, cupping the side of her face with one hand, deepening the kiss with gentle pressure. She sighs against my mouth, her body melting into mine, and I can feel the change. That subtle tilt of her hips, the tension in her fingers, the heat sparking between us like kindling catching flame.

“Vi…” I murmur against her lips, letting her name linger there.

She doesn’t answer with words—kisses me again, bolder this time, more sure. Her leg hooks over mine, drawing our bodies closer, the thin layers of sleep clothes between us suddenly feeling like far too much.

My hand slides down to her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hip as I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, like I’ve got something to prove. And maybe I do. Maybe I need her to feel it—to know that this isn’t just heat, it’s something deeper. Something permanent.

When I pull back just enough to look at her, she’s already watching me, lips kiss-swollen and eyes bright. “Gods you are so beautiful.” 

I kiss her again—this time slower, deeper—and let myself fall, completely and without hesitation, into her.

I grip the waistband of her shorts and ease them down over her hips. She kicks them off without hesitation, then swings a leg over me, straddling my thighs. Her skin is warm, her eyes locked on mine with a teasing smile as the heat between her legs presses through my pants.

She leans in, pulling at my waistband until my cock springs free, slapping against my stomach with a sound that makes her laugh—soft, breathy, full of anticipation.

I grin, hands circling her waist as she rises to her knees. Her fingers wrap around me, her touch making me groan as she guides me between her slick folds, dragging the head against her before lining me up. Then, slowly, she sinks down, inch by inch, and we both moan at the stretch, the connection.

“Gods, Violet,” I breathe, voice rough. “Ride me.”

Her eyes are half-lidded, drunk on pleasure, lips parted as she starts to move—hips rolling, teasing, before finding a rhythm that has us both spiraling. She bounces, controlled but hungry, every movement winding the tension tighter. I watch her, completely wrecked by the sight of her, lost in the feel of us.

Her pace quickens, each bounce more desperate, more demanding. Her thighs slap against mine, slick skin meeting slick skin, the sound loud in the charged air between us. I can feel how wet she is, how tightly she grips me every time she takes me to the hilt.

“Fuck, Violet,” I growl, digging my fingers into her waist, guiding her movements as she rides me like she owns me.

She leans forward, hands on my chest, her breath coming fast. Sweat beads at her temple, her lips parted as she pants, moans, curses under her breath. Every roll of her hips sends a jolt of pleasure through me, electric and overwhelming. Her walls pulse around me, and it takes everything I have not to lose it right there.

“You feel so fucking good,” she whispers, voice broken, raw.

I sit up, chest to chest, arms wrapping around her back as I start thrusting up into her. She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders, her forehead dropping to mine.

“Oh my god,” she moans, her voice shaking. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”

I don’t. I give her everything—every hard, deep thrust, every ounce of hunger I’ve been holding back. She’s trembling now, close, her body starting to shake around me.

“Come for me,” I whisper against her lips. “I want to feel it. I want to feel you lose it on my cock.”

She cries out, high and sharp, her whole body tensing before she unravels in my arms—clenching, pulsing, dragging me over the edge with her. I thrust once, twice more before I break, pushing my knot inside of her, groaning her name into her mouth as I come hard, buried deep inside her.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breath and the thundering of our hearts. She collapses against me, laughing softly, her body still twitching with the aftershocks.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing the damp hair from her face.

She looks up at me, dazed and smiling. “Better than okay.”

We stayed like that for a while—her pressed against me, skin slick and hearts still racing. My hands trace slow, aimless lines across her back, grounding us both. She breathes into my neck, every exhale a little calmer than the last.

Eventually, she shifts just enough to look at me, her cheeks flushed, eyes heavy but soft.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbles with a sleepy smile.

I chuckle, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She hums and settles again, her hand resting over my heart. I hold her close, not in a possessive way—... like I never want to let her go. Because I don’t.

My chest tightens, but not in a bad way. It’s that kind of ache that demands to be said aloud, even if it feels too soon or too big. I clear my throat quietly, fingers still tracing her spine.

“Violet,” I say, voice low. She tilts her head up, eyes meeting mine, still hazy but curious.

“I know it hasn’t been long. I wasn’t planning to say this—not yet—but... It’s true. I love you.”

Her lips part, but I keep going, needing her to hear it all.

“It’s not just about the way you look at me, or the way we fit like this. It’s everything. The way you laugh, the way you make the world feel less heavy. The way I can breathe easier when you’re near. You make shit make sense, even when nothing else does.”

She blinks, like she’s not sure she heard me right.

“I love you,” I repeat, softer this time, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “And I don’t care if it’s fast. I’m not going anywhere.”

She stares at me for a second, lips trembling like she’s fighting something back. Then she kisses me—deep and slow and full of feeling. Like she’s pouring all the words she can’t quite say into me instead.

When she finally pulls back, her voice is barely a whisper.

“I love you too.”

And just like that, everything settles. The heat, the rush, the fear fade into something tangible. Something solid.

I hold her tighter, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Violet

June 19th

7:42 P.M

The war room—our library turned ops center—smells like coffee, printer ink, and tension.

The fireplace crackles gently, throwing flickers of orange across the spines of old books lining the walls, but it’s not warm. Not really. Not with the storm brewing inside me.

I sit at the far end of the table, one leg tucked under me, wearing a faded black hoodie and a pair of Dare’s joggers I stole this morning. Rolled up a hundred time to fit but I like having his scent on me. My curls are pulled into a messy bun, and I’ve got a half-empty mug of tea cooling at my elbow. I haven’t touched it in a while.

Across from me, Fox leans forward in one of the heavy leather chairs, elbows on his knees, dressed in a plain black tee and dark jeans, a scowl fixed on his face. He’s been eerily quiet all night, eyes bouncing between the screen and the floor, like he’s waiting for something awful to drop.

Dare stands by the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle hooked over the other. He’s wearing grey sweats and a worn white tank that clings to his chest and shoulders. His eyes haven’t left Romano in over ten minutes. Tension rolls off him in waves.

Jex is perched on the edge of the table, dark cargo pants tucked into his boots, and a lightweight tactical hoodie unzipped halfway down his chest. He leans over Romano’s laptop, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He hasn’t blinked in a while.

I’m trying not to lose it.

Romano’s typing again, fingers flying over the keyboard. His glasses are slightly crooked—he keeps pushing them up with the back of his wrist—but he’s locked in. A soft, metallic ding breaks the silence, and he leans back slowly.

“I found something,” he says.

Everyone stills.

He clicks, and a spreadsheet full of numbered accounts fills the wall monitor. I squint, leaning forward as he highlights a section—wire transfers, high-level account routing, seals I don’t recognize.

“This one right here,” Romano says, tapping the screen. “It’s not a shell company. It’s a black-budget clearance account. Department of Specialized Intelligence—Internal Ops.”

My stomach drops like I’ve been sucker-punched.

Dare’s brow furrows. “That’s government.”

Romano nods. “The same agency you three used to work for. These aren’t rogue actors. The trafficking ring was funded through them.”

I glance at Fox. He hasn’t moved. But his whole body looks like it’s holding something in—barely.

“Not just funded,” Romano adds quietly, switching to a new screen. “Managed.”

On the monitor, we see familiar names and files connected to buyers. Timestamps. Encrypted logs. But then—

“That one,” he points. “Alan Keene. Director. He authorized two separate auctions under codenames ‘Red Echo’ and ‘Subject Orion.’ And he’s not the only one.”

Silence crashes into the room like a dropped hammer.

“They’re still active,” Romano says, voice razor-sharp. “Keene’s still giving orders. Still cleaning house.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“He’s the one who detained us,” Jex murmurs, voice low and even.

I stare at the screen, the web of names, blood money, and coded silence. All this time, I thought we were dealing with shadow-market scum. Traffickers. Smugglers.

But this is deeper. It’s polished floors and glowing badges. It’s the system.

And they’re still out there.

“They’re not going to stop,” I whisper, curling my arms around my middle. “They’re going to come for us again.”

“No,” Fox growls, rising to his feet. “We’re going to come for them.”

Kingston, seated beside Fallon, nods once. “We take this slow. Clean. We expose them first. Strip away the secrecy. Show the world what they’re doing.”

“And then,” Jace adds from the other side of the room, tossing a stress ball between his hands, “we bury every last one of them.”

Dare moves to me, dropping to one knee beside my chair. His palm curls around mine, grounding. “We’re not going to let them hurt you again.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is too tight. My chest is too full. Not with fear—but fury. The slow-burning kind that waits. I squeeze his hand, hard. “We don’t wait,” I say finally. “Not this time.”

Jex meets my eyes across the table, something fierce and quiet in his gaze. “Then we start the war.”

The flames in the fireplace crack, sending shadows dancing across the map-lined walls. I can feel the energy shifting—everyone trying to process the new weight of what we’ve uncovered.

Then Fallon speaks, her voice slicing clean through the silence.

“What about the omega rights coalition?”

All eyes flick to her.

She’s leaning forward in her chair, her dark blue curls twisted up in a loose knot on top of her head, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “There’s been a growing group pushing for federal reforms. Omega ownership laws, rights to property, marriage protections… real change. They’re organized, and they’ve got politicians on their side. Maybe someone inside that movement could help.”

I blink, the idea slamming into me like a caffeine rush.

I whip around to look at her. “Fallon. You’re a goddess among mortals.”

She smirks. “Takes one to know one.”

I laugh, breathless, then lean over the arm of my chair and slap her a high five. “No, seriously—who better to take down the government than the damn government? Or at least someone on the fringe of it who wants it to change.”

The wheels are turning now, faster than before. My heart is racing, but this time with purpose.

“We find someone in that movement,” I say, straightening up, “someone who’s already fighting to change things. We vet them hard—dig in deep. If they’re clean, we reach out. We give them what we’ve got. Proof. Names. Trails.”

Fox sits up straighter beside me, eyes narrowing. “If they’re real, they’ll run with it. If not…”

“Then we just outmaneuver them like the rest,” Jex finishes.

Dare nods from across the room. “You want to burn a corrupt house down, you start by pulling out the rot from inside.”

“And now,” I grin, tapping my pen against the table like a drumroll, “we get ourselves a man on the inside.”

Fallon raises her brows, smug. “All in a day’s work.”

I glance at her, then at my pack, at the flames flickering in the fireplace behind us.

This isn’t just survival anymore. This is revolution.

And we’re done playing nice.

Chapter Fourteen

Violet

June 26th

10:46 P.M

Pizza boxes lie scattered across the coffee table, the rich scent of pepperoni mixing comfortably with their alpha scents—warm, spicy, addictive. The movie plays quietly on the screen, but none of us are watching it anymore.

Fox sits beside me on the large sectional, his body angled toward mine, one arm draped casually along the couch behind my shoulders. He’s in dark joggers and a fitted black t-shirt, every muscle defined even as he lounges, relaxed but ready. His thumb strokes the bare skin at the base of my neck in lazy circles, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

Dare sits to my other side, effortlessly commanding space with his quiet presence. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that sit low on his hips and a snug white tank top, highlighting every line of muscle and strength. He’s calm and steady, his eyes locked onto mine with that quiet intensity that makes my heart skip.

Jex reclines on the floor in front of me, back resting against the couch near my legs. Black cargo pants, snug against his thighs, paired with a soft charcoal hoodie. He’s running his palm slowly up and down my calf, his touch deliberate, possessive in the sweetest way.

The silence between us is comfortable. It’s ours, filled with warmth and the gentle awareness of being together, as if we’ve finally reached the eye of our storm.

“I talked to Odette today,” I say softly, breaking the easy quiet.

Their attention sharpens instantly, protective alpha energy humming around me like a shield.

“How is she?” Fox asks, voice low, filled with genuine concern.

“She’s okay. Still healing. Henry’s back with her now, sticking close. She said she’s starting to remember small bits—nothing clear yet, but she’s getting there.”

Jex nods thoughtfully. “Good. She’s strong; she’ll get through it.”

“We’ll be here for whatever she needs,” Dare adds quietly, reaching over to squeeze my thigh. “She’s your family. That makes her ours.”

My chest warms, and I lean further into him, breathing in his cinnamon-bourbon scent. The room falls quiet again, but something inside me won’t let it stay that way. The thought’s been building in me for weeks—maybe since the day I first saw them walk into my life.

I take a steadying breath. “Have you guys…thought about bonding?”

My voice is quiet, hesitant—but firm.

All three alphas immediately sharpen their focus, tension thrumming through the air—not anxious, but expectant. Dare’s hand tightens just slightly, while Fox moves closer, dropping his arm fully around me. Jex twists gently, fully facing me, amber eyes blazing with a fierce kind of warmth.

Fox speaks first, voice a low rasp. “Violet, there hasn’t been a single second since we found you that I haven’t thought about it.”

Jex’s gaze burns into mine, his words steady, rich with emotion. “I think about claiming you every damn day. You’ve made our pack stronger—made us stronger. The idea of having you fully bonded, carrying our mark… It’s all I’ve dreamed about since that first night.”

Dare leans closer, his deep voice nearly a growl, rough with emotion and barely-contained possessiveness. “You’re the best thing to ever walk into our lives, Vi. We already belong to you. We have since the moment we scented you. But to have you choose us, mark us as yours too—nothing would make me prouder.”

My throat feels tight, but my heart—gods, it feels full, steady, and sure.

“I’m ready,” I whisper softly, firmly. “I don’t want to wait anymore. You’re my alphas—my home. I’m ready to be yours. Officially.”

The energy in the room shifts instantly—intensity, desire, and a bone-deep satisfaction radiating from all three alphas at once.

Fox cups my jaw gently, leaning in close, voice rough and full of promise. “We’re going to make it so good for you, sweetheart. You’ll never question how much you’re loved.”

Jex’s hand slides higher up my thigh, his thumb brushing tenderly, sending heat pooling low. “We’ll show you exactly how deeply you belong to us, Violet.”

Dare captures my gaze, eyes smoldering with fierce protectiveness. “And anyone who tries to threaten that bond will learn exactly what it means to cross us.”

I smile, heart racing, certainty settling deep in my bones.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

There’s a sudden rush of movement, a swirl of laughter, and the world tilts as I’m swept off my feet and tossed upside down over Jex’s strong shoulder. My stomach flips, laughter spilling from my lips uncontrollably as I brace myself against his hips, holding tight.

“Jex!” I gasp, breathless and giddy, squirming against his firm grip. “I can walk, you know!”

His hand tightens possessively on my thighs, fingertips pressing into my skin through the soft fabric of my shorts. “Not risking you changing your mind, sweetheart,” he growls playfully, his voice thick with warmth and barely restrained desire.

I smile, a rush of happiness and certainty surging through me. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

Before I can register anything else, I’m soaring through the air, tossed gently into the heart of my nest. I land on plush blankets and soft pillows, the momentum sending the bed swinging slowly, cradling me in a gentle sway. Laughter bubbles out again, bright and joyful as the warm scents of my alphas surround me—comforting, intoxicating, and impossibly right.

Fox is suddenly there, hovering over me, eyes blazing with heat and something deeper, something reverent. My giggles fade into breathless anticipation as he lowers himself toward me. His lips find mine, soft and achingly gentle at first, as if I’m something precious he might break.

His tongue sweeps slowly along my bottom lip, coaxing gently, silently demanding access that I eagerly grant. My body arches instinctively towards him, hands reaching up to slide into his hair as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything unspoken between us into it: possession, promise, devotion.

My heart races, warmth pooling deep within me, as I surrender myself fully into the safety of my pack’s embrace, knowing this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Fox pulls back slowly, his eyes molten, staring down at me with something fierce and vulnerable. My pulse thuds in my ears, and warmth pools deep within me as I hold his gaze.

Behind him, Jex is already pulling his shirt over his head, the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor resonating deeply inside me. Dare steps closer, his eyes glittering in the low light, stripping off his tank top, revealing muscles rippling under golden skin. Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I don’t want to.

Fox sits back just long enough to tug off his shirt, and the second it hits the floor, he’s leaning over me again, fingers trailing tenderly along my jaw. My breath catches, heart pounding, anticipation flooding my veins.

“Are you ready, Violet?” His voice is gentle, low—almost reverent, even as the hunger blazes unmistakably in his gaze. “Once we start, we can’t stop. You’ll be ours completely.”

“I’m already yours,” I whisper, sliding my hands along the warm planes of his chest, my fingertips tracing every scar, every line of muscle, committing him to memory. “Make it official.”

Fox smiles, beautifully savage. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

He kisses me again, harder this time, tongue sweeping deep and possessive, igniting fire in my veins. The bed shifts as Dare moves closer, leaning in to trail his mouth along the sensitive skin of my neck, making me shiver and arch into him. Jex kneels at the foot of the bed, slowly pulling my shorts down my legs, his eyes darkening with desire as they sweep over me.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jex murmurs reverently, pressing soft kisses along my thighs, his teeth grazing gently over my skin. “Our perfect, strong omega.”

My breath hitches as Fox pulls back enough to help lift my shirt off, leaving me completely bare beneath their heated gazes. Dare’s mouth moves lower, lips brushing delicately over my collarbone, his hands sliding possessively over my body, igniting every nerve.

Fox sits back, his gaze locked with mine as he pushes down his joggers, baring himself fully. He returns to me swiftly, guiding me gently into position. My heartbeat quickens as I feel his heat pressed against me.

“I love you, Vi,” he whispers, voice rough with need, eyes bright with sincerity. “We all do.”

“Show me,” I breathe, gripping his shoulders tightly.

With one smooth, deliberate thrust, Fox fills me completely, my body arching, breath rushing from my lungs. Pleasure ripples through me, warm and electrifying, intensified as Jex’s strong hands slide up my thighs, spreading me wider, preparing me gently for his touch. Dare leans close, capturing my lips in a tender yet fierce kiss, deepening it as Fox begins to move slowly, steadily, each thrust claiming me further.

Jex’s mouth drags softly against my nipple, his voice vibrating gently over my skin. “You’re everything we’ve dreamed of.”

My fingers thread into his hair, urging him closer. “Bite me,” I whisper, shuddering as his teeth nip lightly.

Fox groans above me, voice strained with pleasure and devotion, “We will, baby. You’re ours forever now.”

Fox’s rhythm picks up, pleasure spiraling through me as Jex’s touch deepens, and Dare’s kisses grow hungrier, possessive. The room fills with our scents, the raw sounds of our connection, building to something impossibly powerful.

Then Fox leans forward, teeth grazing the tender flesh between my neck and shoulder. “Mine,” he growls, low and possessive. Then, in a surge of pleasure, he bites down sharply. Heat and pain blend seamlessly into pleasure, an overwhelming sensation flooding through me, claiming every nerve, every heartbeat.

I gasp, arching up as Fox pulls back, lips stained red, eyes filled with fierce pride. He gently tilts his head, exposing the strong column of his throat to me.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs encouragingly.

My heart thunders wildly as I lean forward, pressing my mouth to his warm skin. Taking a steadying breath, I bite firmly, marking him just as deeply, tasting him—bonding us permanently. Fox shudders, growling softly with satisfaction, whispering my name reverently. His thrusts suddenly turn brutal. I can’t help but chant his name over and over. My orgasm rips through me, destroying me in the process. He grabs my hips, jerking me down as he thrusts up, pushing his knot inside me, locking us together. He roars out as he cums. I can feel his release painting my insides. 

Fox’s forehead rests gently against mine, his breath ragged and warm against my lips. His knot is still locked deep inside me, anchoring us intimately, the fullness overwhelming and comforting all at once. I trail soft kisses along his jaw, savoring the quiet intimacy, each gentle touch an affirmation of our bond.

“You’re incredible, Vi,” Fox whispers roughly, nuzzling against the sensitive bite mark on my throat. His thumb strokes tenderly over the curve of my hip. “We’re never letting you go. Not ever.”

“I don’t want you to,” I murmur softly, wrapping my arms tighter around him. I breathe him in, grounding myself in the heady warmth of his scent, allowing myself to fully savor the depth of our new connection.

Slowly, gently, Fox’s knot eases, slipping free as we both sigh softly at the tender sensation. His lips press warmly against mine again, sweet and lingering.

But before I can settle back, strong, sure hands reach out to pull me gently yet possessively from Fox’s embrace. I look up into Dare’s heated gaze, his eyes burning with fierce intensity. My pulse spikes sharply, anticipation igniting fresh heat low in my belly.

“My turn, omega,” Dare growls softly, guiding me onto my back, his powerful body settling above me. His warmth engulfs me completely, and I’m instantly breathless, drawn into the fierce storm swirling in his eyes.

“Claim me, Alpha,” I whisper, sliding my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. “I’m yours.”

His low growl vibrates against my chest as he enters me smoothly, deeply, filling me completely. I arch beneath him, gripping him tighter, breath hitching as pleasure pulses hot and bright through my veins.

“Gods, Violet…” Dare rasps, his voice rough with desire and reverence. He moves inside me with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring every inch of connection, each thrust radiating possessiveness and devotion.

I moan softly, surrendering fully beneath him, heart racing as pleasure coils tighter, deeper. Dare kisses me hungrily, pouring all of his strength and intensity into the kiss, claiming my mouth as thoroughly as he claims my body.

“Say you’re mine,” he murmurs against my lips, voice rough and thick with emotion. “I need to hear you.”

“I’m yours, Dare,” I gasp, clinging desperately to him. “Only yours.”

His movements become deeper, more urgent, building toward a powerful peak. The scent of his desire wraps around me, intoxicating and irresistible, pushing me closer to the edge. His lips trail down my throat, lingering softly near the mark Fox left, then shifting to a new spot just below my jaw.

“Mine,” he whispers fiercely, sinking his teeth firmly into my skin.

Pleasure-pain surges through me, sending sparks spiraling deep into my core. My body clenches tightly around him as I cry out, overwhelmed, holding him impossibly close.

“Yours,” I breathe, voice trembling, heart soaring. “Forever yours.”

I shift instinctively, pressing my lips firmly to Dare’s throat, returning the bite with confident strength. He shudders above me, groaning deeply as the bond locks into place, powerful and irrevocable.

His knot swells within me, locking us firmly together. I cry out as white hot pleasure blinds me, feeling him shudder with his own orgasm makes me grin as I come down. Dare holds me possessively, stroking my hair, his voice a soothing murmur against my ear.

“I love you, Vi,” he breathes softly, reverently. “You’re ours forever now.”

“And you’re mine,” I whisper, holding tightly, embracing the fierce reality of this perfect moment.

Dare’s body settles gently over mine as we catch our breath, his forehead resting against my collarbone. He murmurs soft praises into my skin, each word tightening the bond already blossoming between us. I tenderly stroke his sweat-damp hair, enjoying his warm weight against me, savoring every second.

Slowly, Dare’s knot eases, slipping free, making us both shiver lightly. He places a final, lingering kiss against my lips, eyes warm and fiercely proud as he carefully moves aside, giving space for the final member of our pack.

Jex’s strong hands find my waist immediately, gently rolling me toward him. My heart races anew, anticipation and love swirling fiercely inside me as he guides me to settle atop him, letting me take in his beautiful face, framed by tousled hair, amber eyes filled with a storm of emotion.

“I’ve waited so long for you, Vi,” he whispers, running a thumb softly across my cheek. “To have you as mine—to be yours—I never thought I’d find this. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

My breath catches at the intensity of his words, my chest swelling with overwhelming emotion. “I’m yours, Jex. Completely yours. Claim me.”

With an almost reverent gentleness, Jex lifts my hips, guiding me slowly down onto him, his thickness stretching and filling me perfectly. My head falls back as I moan softly, every nerve alight with the sensation of him filling me, anchoring me to him.

“Perfect omega,” Jex praises softly, his voice thick with passion and devotion. “You’re our entire world, Violet.”

My hips begin to move slowly, rhythmically, guided by his strong hands. He grips me possessively, fingertips pressing into my thighs as our rhythm builds, pleasure cascading through me in waves, tightening deep within me.

He sits up slowly, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss so deeply passionate it steals my breath, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck as he kisses me deeply, hungrily, yet still achingly gentle.

My body trembles as we move faster together, the friction between us igniting sparks of heat and pleasure. Jex pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes blazing fiercely.

“You’re ours now, Vi,” he growls softly, his lips brushing my jaw, trailing hot kisses along my throat. “Ours forever.”

“Forever,” I breathe, voice shaking with love and need. “Yours.”

Jex’s teeth graze lightly at the soft skin of my neck, just below the marks Fox and Dare left, sending a shudder through my body. He pauses for a heartbeat, then bites firmly, deeply, anchoring himself to me in a surge of sensation so intense, I nearly come undone.

Pleasure roars through me, my body shattering around him, crying out his name as the bond seals itself, strong and final. My heart pounds wildly, a sense of completeness flooding through every nerve.

“Your turn, love,” Jex murmurs tenderly, voice thick with raw emotion as he tilts his head, baring his strong throat to me in a powerful gesture of trust and vulnerability.

Leaning forward, I sink my teeth firmly into his skin, feeling the bond lock into place as he groans deeply beneath me. His knot swells quickly inside me, locking us firmly together as we shudder through a shared climax, holding each other tightly.

As the waves slowly ebb, Jex’s arms wrap tenderly around me, holding me close. He whispers soft words into my hair, words of love, devotion, and promise.

“We’ve got you now, Violet,” he breathes softly. “Always.”

“Always,” I whisper back, holding him tighter, my heart finally whole.

Together, finally, undeniably bonded.

Fox

July 12th

7:30 P.M

Rain pelts gently against the windshield, casting blurry halos around the streetlights outside the sleek, glass-and-steel office building. I’ve been parked in the same discreet spot across the street for nearly two hours now, eyes fixed on the softly glowing third-floor window where Adrienne Hart still works, unaware she’s been under surveillance for weeks.

Adrienne Hart. Alpha, attorney, omega rights advocate—one of the loudest voices in a quietly growing movement. Brilliant, relentless, and dangerous to the status quo. Exactly the type of ally we need if we’re going to take down the Internal Ops Division. But trust doesn’t come easy after everything we’ve been through.

We’ve watched her closely—studied her patterns, her meetings, her interactions. No signs of corruption. No hidden accounts. She’s clean, as far as Romano can dig. And Romano always digs deep.

“You’re sure about this, Fox?” Jex’s voice crackles softly over my comm, tense but steady. “We can still pull back, keep watching. We’ve got time.”

I lean back against the headrest, fingers drumming softly against the steering wheel. “No. She’s clean, Jex. If we wait any longer, we might lose our shot. She’s exactly who we need. Hell, she might be the only one who can help us blow this wide open.”

He’s quiet for a second, absorbing that. “Okay. But keep your eyes open. We’re close by if anything goes sideways.”

“I always do.”

I glance up sharply as the building’s glass doors slide open. Adrienne emerges, instantly recognizable even in the rain, her dark chestnut hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She’s tall, polished, carrying herself with undeniable alpha confidence. Her tailored suit is impeccable, the gray jacket open just enough to reveal a deep crimson blouse beneath, her strides measured yet purposeful as she heads down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

“Adrienne’s on the move,” I say quietly into my comm, shifting to open the door. “I’m going now.”

“Be careful,” Dare warns quietly. I hear Violet’s soft voice murmuring agreement in the background, warmth settling briefly into my chest at the thought of her worrying. This has to work, for all our sakes.

I exit the vehicle, flipping up my hood against the drizzle as I cross the street swiftly, falling naturally into step several paces behind Adrienne. She senses my approach instantly, stiffening just slightly, turning her head sharply enough to indicate she knows she’s being followed.

“Alpha Hart,” I call softly but clearly, keeping my voice calm, non-threatening.

She stops immediately, turning around fully to face me. Her piercing emerald eyes narrowed, instantly assessing me. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone who needs your help,” I say calmly, hands lifted slightly to show I mean no harm. “And I think you might need mine.”

She looks me up and down slowly, the rain soaking gently into the shoulders of her jacket. “Bold assumption.”

“I wouldn’t risk approaching you if it wasn’t important.” I lower my voice slightly, letting urgency seep through. “We know what you’re trying to do with omega rights. We also know the biggest threat isn’t just a broken system—it’s the people secretly keeping it that way.”

Her eyes sharpen, curiosity and caution flaring together. “And who exactly are these ‘people’?”

“Internal Ops Division,” I say quietly, watching her reaction carefully. She doesn’t flinch, but I catch the subtle twitch in her jaw. Good—she knows enough to understand the threat. “They’re funding and operating underground omega auctions. We have proof. Names. Numbers. Everything.”

Adrienne stares at me hard, weighing every word. “And you’re bringing this to me because…?”

“Because we can’t fight them alone. You have the connections. The reputation. The credibility. If we expose this together, we can rip this system apart.”

Her gaze searches mine, lingering for several tense seconds. Finally, she nods slightly, decision firming her expression.

“My office isn’t secure,” she says quietly, reaching into her jacket to hand me a sleek black business card. “Meet me tomorrow night, at that address. If your proof is real, we’ll talk.”

“It’s real,” I promise, taking the card, rain slicking its surface as I tuck it into my pocket. “We’ll be there.”

Adrienne nods once, sharply, turning away. “I hope you’re right,” she calls back over her shoulder, voice cutting clearly through the rain. “Because if you’re wrong, you’re about to make enemies you can’t afford.”

I watch her go, a surge of adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

“We’re already there,” I murmur to myself. Turning back to the car, I relay quietly into my comm, “We’ve got her. Time to move.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dare

July 13th

6:45 P.M

The address Adrienne gave us leads to an old, converted warehouse at the edge of downtown Chicago. The kind of place you don’t find unless you’re looking—dimly lit alleys, industrial buildings, and silence thick enough to drown in.

Fox parks our SUV along the curb, shutting off the headlights before leaning back in his seat. He’s tense, watching the building like he expects it to explode. Jex checks his weapon once, sliding it securely back into its holster beneath his jacket. Romano cleared Adrienne, but we’ve learned caution the hard way.

Violet sits quietly between me and Fox, her small hand curled tightly around mine, thumb brushing softly over my knuckles. Her presence grounds me, keeping the cold fury simmering in my veins from overtaking reason. I glance at her, silently reassuring myself she’s okay. She meets my gaze, eyes steady, silently telling me she trusts us. Trust me.

“Everyone ready?” Fox murmurs, scanning the empty street again.

I squeeze Violet’s hand gently before releasing her. “Let’s go.”

As we step out of the vehicle, the air is cool and damp, moving silently across the cracked pavement toward the side door Adrienne’s card indicated. Fox knocks sharply, twice—precisely as instructed. A moment later, the heavy steel door slides open, revealing Adrienne Hart, dressed in dark, tactical attire, her expression alert but composed.

“Inside,” she says simply, stepping back.

We file in quickly, senses sharp as Adrienne slides the door shut behind us with a heavy clang. The inside is sparse but clearly designed for discretion. A large metal table sits in the center beneath harsh fluorescent lights, surrounded by several chairs. Stacks of paper and files are laid out neatly, obviously prepared ahead of our arrival.

Adrienne turns to face us, calm but wary, eyes scanning the four of us slowly. Her gaze settles last on Violet, expression softening just slightly, something protective flickering behind her eyes before she meets Fox’s stare again.

“Show me what you have,” Adrienne says, voice crisp, straightforward. “And then I’ll tell you what I can do.”

Fox pulls a small thumb drive from his pocket and hands it to her without a word. “Bank statements, purchase records, internal comms, and a full list of high-level personnel involved.”

Adrienne plugs the drive into a secure laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard as the screen floods with incriminating evidence. Her jaw tightens incrementally as she reads, eyes blazing with fury and determination.

“I’ve suspected something like this,” she says quietly after several tense minutes, finally looking up again. “But I didn’t know how deep it went. You realize the danger you’ve put yourselves in just bringing this to me?”

“We were already in danger,” I respond evenly, watching her closely. “We’re here because it’s time to end it.”

Her gaze sharpens, assessing me with newfound respect. She nods, pulling in a slow breath. “I have a trusted network—other alphas, betas, even a few omegas—in positions to make things move politically and publicly. But this,” she gestures to the screen, “this is dangerous. People will die for this kind of information.”

“People have already died,” Violet speaks up firmly, her voice strong despite the tension in the room. “They’ve been killing us slowly for years. It’s time someone fought back.”

Adrienne looks at Violet, a spark of admiration flaring in her eyes. “Then we fight. Together.”

Fox steps forward slightly. “How soon can you start making moves?”

Adrienne’s mouth quirks into a fierce, determined smile. “Immediately. But we’ll have to move quietly. I assume you’re prepared to do what’s necessary?”

“More than ready,” Jex answers instantly, calm and deadly certain. “We’ll take care of anything on the ground. You get this information to the right people.”

Adrienne nods, the weight of the decision clear in her eyes. “Then consider it done.”

She stands, extending a hand toward Fox first. He shakes it firmly. She moves down the line, meeting Jex’s eyes, then Violet’s, before stopping in front of me. I grasp her hand steadily, recognizing the resolve in her grip.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says quietly, holding my gaze.

“We’re doing the only thing,” I answer calmly, feeling the certainty of Violet’s presence behind me. “And we’re going to finish it.”

Adrienne smiles briefly, a flash of respect and understanding passing between us.

“Good,” she says softly, releasing my hand. “Because this war’s just getting started.”

Jex

July 15th

9:42 P.M

The oppressive night presses down on us, humidity thickening with the promise of violence. Fox crouches low at my side, eyes locked onto the heavily fortified facility. I can feel his tension, coiled tight like a spring. Beside him, Dare’s presence is a steadying force, cold fury emanating from him like a tangible thing.

Romano’s voice buzzes quietly in my ear over the comms, low and methodical. “Server room’s in the east wing. Alarms are wired through the control room—cut them fast, or expect trouble.”

“Copy,” Fox answers quietly, checking his weapon one last time.

Dare gives a sharp nod, looking back briefly to check on Violet. She’s pressed tight between Fallon and Kingston, her small frame wired with anticipation. Her blue eyes gleam fiercely beneath her dark curls. She catches my gaze, nodding once—resolute, brave, and utterly unafraid.

Kingston speaks calmly from the back of the formation, steady and commanding. “Fallon, Voss—you’re with Violet and me. We’ll cover your extraction point. Fox, Jex, Dare—go in hot, get the intel. Romano and Jace have perimeter control.”

We all acknowledge silently, splitting smoothly into our teams. Fallon squeezes Violet’s shoulder firmly, whispering something encouraging in her ear. Voss shifts restlessly, eyes glinting in anticipation of violence.

Fox moves first, Dare and I flanking him. We cut swiftly through the shadows, heartbeats hammering in steady rhythm. Dare disables the outer cameras with an EMP burst; darkness swallows the compound’s rear perimeter instantly.

We slip through the fence like ghosts, moving quietly, relentlessly toward the looming gray concrete structure. A sudden flash from the right signals that Romano and Jace have engaged perimeter guards silently, dropping them before they can sound any alarm.

Inside is sterile white hallways lit too harshly, a maze of danger and deception. Fox’s fist goes up, signaling silence. We hold position, waiting as footsteps pass, our breathing controlled but sharp.

“Server room ahead,” Fox murmurs. “Romano, guide us.”

“Straight ahead, then left,” Romano instructs calmly. “I’m tracking guard movement—move now.”

We surge forward, quick and precise. Fox silently takes down a guard ahead of us, catching the limp body before it hits the ground. Dare nods approvingly, gaze sharp and watchful as we push onward.

We enter the server room smoothly, Romano’s voice steady. “Plug it in. Get it done fast.”

Fox attaches the drive, and the data transfer begins, agonizingly slow. Each second stretches painfully.

A sudden sharp curse from Romano sends adrenaline spiking down my spine. “Shit! Alarms triggered—guards incoming!”

Red lights flare, blinding and pulsing violently. Fox rips the drive free just as the door crashes open. Gunfire erupts, deafening in the enclosed space. We dive for cover, returning fire swiftly. A bullet grazes my shoulder, searing pain briefly acknowledged then ruthlessly ignored.

“Jex! Fox!” Dare bellows, laying down suppressing fire, sharp and brutal. “Move now!”

We retreat swiftly, firing as we sprint down the corridor toward the exit. My comm crackles, Kingston’s voice cutting sharply through chaos. “We’ve got company outside! Voss and Fallon holding perimeter—move your asses!”

We burst into the open air, immediately diving for cover as bullets ricochet off concrete. Kingston and Fallon provide cover fire, faces grim and determined. Violet is crouched beside Voss, eyes blazing fiercely as she reloads her weapon with practiced ease.

“Jace, extraction point now!” Kingston barks urgently. “We’re boxed in!”

“Already on it,” Jace snaps back, voice tight with tension. “Thirty seconds, hold tight!”

The fight grows deafening, sharp pops of gunfire mixing with adrenaline-soaked curses. Fallon snarls beside Kingston, firing in precise bursts, her body poised and lethal.

Violet pivots suddenly, eyes widening. “On your left!”

I spin sharply, dropping another enemy who’d nearly flanked us. Violet nods once, eyes bright and unafraid despite the chaos.

A vehicle roars up behind us—Jace, sleek black SUV skidding sideways, door flung open urgently. “Get in!”

We sprint for the SUV, bullets snapping past us. I push Violet ahead of me, protective instinct flaring fiercely as Dare and Fox cover our backs. Fallon slides inside, pulling Violet with her; Voss shoves in after them, grunting sharply as a bullet grazes his leg.

We tumble in quickly, hearts hammering, ears ringing. Romano leaps into the front, fingers flying over his laptop as Jace punches the gas, tires squealing. The facility fades rapidly behind us, sirens wailing into the darkening distance.

“You got the data?” Kingston demands harshly, breathing ragged.

“Got it,” Fox confirms, voice gritty with adrenaline. “Everything.”

A tense silence follows, punctuated only by our harsh breathing.

Violet’s hand curls tightly around mine, fingers trembling slightly from adrenaline but fierce and resolute. I glance at her, absorbing the quiet bravery etched deeply into her features.

“We did it,” she breathes softly, eyes glowing. “We’re gonna take them down.”

Dare exhales sharply, leaning his head back against the seat. Fox nods silently, jaw clenched. Kingston meets Violet’s gaze steadily, respect glittering clearly in his eyes.

“This isn’t the end,” Kingston warns softly. “But it’s one hell of a start.”

“Then let’s finish it,” Violet whispers, voice steady, fierce, and utterly certain.

The silence afterward is charged—dangerous, victorious, and unyielding. We’re bonded, battle-forged, ready.

This war isn’t over yet. I glance over at Violet, a fierce, adrenaline-laced grin stretching across my face as I hand her the sleek black detonator. “Would you like to do the honors, sweetheart?”

Her eyes spark with delight, mouth curling into an eager, mischievous smile. “Oh, hell yes.”

She slams her small hand decisively onto the button with a triumphant shout. Jace floors the accelerator, the SUV surging forward, tires gripping the road as we rocket away from the facility.

The night is suddenly ripped apart by an earth-shaking explosion behind us, lighting up the sky in a brilliant, violent burst of orange and gold. The shockwave slightly rocks the SUV, reverberating through us all, rattling my bones in the best way.

Violet and Fallon cheer loudly, turning toward each other and slamming their palms together in a celebratory high five. Their laughter fills the tense silence, sharp and joyful, and utterly contagious.

I shake my head, laughing quietly as I glance toward Fox and Dare. “Of course, we end up with the crazy ones.”

Violet pivots in her seat, fixing me with wide, exaggerated puppy-dog eyes that shimmer playfully in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. She pouts dramatically, her voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. “Oh, I’m sorry, Alpha. Would you prefer me softer? More delicate? Maybe a simpering damsel in distress?” She lifts her voice theatrically, pressing her hands dramatically to her chest. “Help me, Alpha, I can’t tie my shoes! Help me, Alpha, my own shadow scares me!”

Fox snorts loudly, shaking his head in amusement, and Dare chuckles quietly under his breath, eyes gleaming with affection. Fallon, meanwhile, is doubled over with laughter, tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks.

“You’ve got to admit,” Fallon manages between breaths, grinning wickedly, “she does a great impression of a helpless omega.”

Violet smirks proudly, lifting her chin in mock superiority. “Thank you, Fallon. Glad someone appreciates my talents.”

Fox leans forward, shaking his head with exaggerated despair. “Crazy-ass omegas. Absolutely impossible, the both of you.”

Violet flashes him a delighted grin, leaning forward to ruffle his hair playfully. “You love it.”

Fox’s eyes soften instantly, his smile turning tender even as he groans dramatically. “God help me, I really do.”

The SUV fills with laughter again, warm and genuine, a perfect contrast to the fierce destruction we’ve just left behind. I glance around at our pack, my chest tightening with pride and affection. This moment, filled with laughter and relief, is everything we’ve been fighting for.

We’re not done yet, but I’ll savor this small victory right now and the fiercely beautiful, unapologetically wild omega at the heart of it all.

Violet

July 30th

5:62 P.M

The quiet crackle of the fireplace is a soothing backdrop to the soft murmur of voices, comforting in a way I’ve never known before. Outside, the world feels distant, as if we’ve carved out our own sanctuary, a little pocket of peace in the storm we’ve just weathered.

I glance up from my canvas, paintbrush paused mid-stroke as I take in the quiet scene around me. Dare is sprawled out across one of the large sofas, head tilted back, eyes closed in a rare moment of rest. The firelight flickers across his handsome face, illuminating the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the line of his jaw relaxed for once.

Fox sits nearby on the rug, leaning back against Dare’s legs, absently turning the pages of a book he hasn’t truly looked at in ages. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, making him look boyish despite the strength I’ve seen him display. I love seeing him like this—unwound, safe, content.

Jex occupies a large armchair, legs stretched out comfortably. He meets my gaze, eyes glimmering warmly beneath half-lowered lashes. A soft, tender smile lifts the corner of his mouth, silent reassurance radiating from him. Always watchful, always gentle.

It’s a snapshot of peace, and my heart squeezes painfully, beautifully full. A few months ago, I couldn’t have imagined this—belonging, security, trust. But here it is, wrapped around me in layers, stronger than anything I ever dreamed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Jex’s low voice breaks gently into my thoughts, pulling me back into the cozy room.

I nod softly, returning his smile. “Just taking a mental picture.”

Fox glances up from his book, grinning softly, eyes glittering with warmth. “Make sure you get my good side.”

“You don’t have a good side,” Dare murmurs sleepily, eyes still closed.

Fox chuckles at his response.

“Don’t encourage him,” Dare mutters, finally cracking open one eye to give me a teasing wink.

I laugh quietly, setting my brush aside as I stretch my fingers. My painting can wait; right now, I just want to bask in this moment. Crossing the room, I curl onto the sofa next to Dare, leaning against him. He wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me snugly into his side, lips brushing gently against my temple.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply, letting their mingled scents fill my lungs. Cinnamon, bourbon, espresso, dark chocolate, sage, and sea salt—all of it blending together into something uniquely ours. Something home.

“We did good, didn’t we?” I whisper softly, half to myself.

“We did,” Fox replies quietly, setting aside his book, turning slightly to face me. His eyes darken a little, thoughtful. “But it’s not over.”

“I know.” My voice is gentle, calm despite the shadow of future battles. “But tonight, I want this. Just this.”

Jex rises quietly, padding across the thick rug to sit beside me on the edge of the couch. His fingers gently trace the fresh bond mark at my throat, sending a shiver down my spine. “Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it. Together.”

“Always,” Dare murmurs quietly, squeezing me gently.

The room falls into comfortable silence again, broken only by the steady, reassuring beat of my alphas’ hearts. Whatever storms lie ahead, right now, we have this.

Peace. Strength. Love.

Violet

August 10th

7:36 P.M

Laughter floats through the house tonight, filling every corner with warmth and light, chasing away any shadows lingering in the corners. Tonight isn’t about plans or missions or survival. Tonight is about family.

Our family.

The dining room has never looked so welcoming—warm lights draped gently around the windows, a long table overflowing with plates of homemade food. Fallon and I spent hours cooking together, which mostly involved Fallon playfully threatening me with various kitchen utensils whenever I almost burned something. Honestly, I only narrowly avoided another “burning water” incident, but Jex kindly stepped in before disaster struck. Fallon is cackling the whole time as she tells me they finally found Marcy. The terrible, idiotic manager who had the audacity to steal from her. They found her on a yacht she stole, and then got lost in the middle of the ocean and had to be rescued by the coast guard. 

I glance around, feeling my heart swell as I take in the faces gathered here. Fallon and Kingston sit side by side, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, her midnight-blue hair tumbling down her shoulders as she laughs at something Voss mutters dryly. Voss’s usual intensity is softened tonight, his dark eyes shining with amusement rather than menace.

Across from them, Romano and Jace are deep in a quiet argument about technology versus “old-school methods,” while Fox observes them with quiet amusement, his lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. Dare lounges nearby, gently swirling the bourbon in his glass, his gaze protective and steady as he watches over the room.

Jex moves behind me, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. His presence is calming, reassuring, a quiet anchor in a room overflowing with personalities and fierce love.

A soft laugh draws my gaze toward Odette, who’s tucked comfortably between her mom, Vaila, and Henry. Her vibrant orange hair is carefully styled, and she’s smiling genuinely for the first time since that awful day. Healing still shadows her eyes, but tonight, she’s safe, protected by family that loves her fiercely.

Adrienne sits nearby, poised and elegant as always, eyes sharp but softer tonight as she listens to Odette share stories from our past misadventures. It’s surreal to see Adrienne Hart—our powerful new ally—laughing openly alongside the pack, but it feels right, as though she’s always belonged here.

Warm arms wrap gently around my waist, and I lean back instinctively into Dare’s embrace, his deep voice soft against my ear. “You built something incredible here, Vi.”

I glance up, meeting his earnest gaze. “We built something incredible,” I correct gently, smiling. “This is ours.”

He hums softly, pressing his lips tenderly to my shoulder. “You’re right.”

Across the table, Fallon catches my eye, raising her wineglass with a wicked smile. “To Violet—our fearless, kitchen-challenged omega who somehow brought us all together without burning the house down.”

Everyone laughs as I groan, cheeks heating. Fox chuckles softly, shaking his head as he raises his glass. “To family,” he says quietly, his voice strong and steady, immediately echoed by the others.

“To family,” everyone murmurs, voices blending warmly as glasses clink softly.

Dinner fades into gentle conversation and easy laughter, time slipping softly past until the candles burn low, bathing the room in a comforting golden glow. Slowly, the house quiets, our guests reluctantly drifting homeward until it’s just the four of us again.

Fox is cleaning quietly in the kitchen, Dare stacking dishes beside him, their quiet murmurs comforting. Jex pulls me into the living room, wrapping a warm blanket around my shoulders as we sit quietly on the couch. I lean into his strength, breathing him in deeply.

He cups my cheek, thumb stroking gently over my skin. “Happy?”

My heart aches gently, beautifully, and I nod, feeling deeply grateful. “More than I ever thought possible.”

“Good,” he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Because you deserve it all.”

As I rest against him, my eyes drift toward the window, to the quiet darkness outside. It feels peaceful now, serene—but somewhere deep inside, I know this peace is temporary.

Tonight, though, there’s only warmth, laughter, and the strength of my pack around me.

And tonight, that’s enough.

Epilogue

Odette

August 10th

9:45 P.M

I step carefully onto the front porch, the laughter and warmth of the gathering fading behind me into quiet murmurs. The night air is cool against my flushed skin, refreshing and calming after so many hours surrounded by smiling faces and careful glances of concern. The pack means well, but their gentle worry is exhausting in its own way.

The door clicks softly behind me, and I glance up to find Henry joining me quietly, his broad shoulders relaxed but eyes alert. Always watching, always guarding. It’s both comforting and maddening.

“You alright, O?” Henry asks softly, keeping his voice gentle.

I exhale slowly, folding my arms around myself against the evening chill. “I’m getting there.”

He nods quietly, his gaze steady and understanding. Henry’s never pushed, never forced conversation. He simply stands beside me, a reassuring shadow. We remain silent for a few moments, both listening to the soft hum of night sounds, the distant rustle of leaves, the quiet peace of this sanctuary that Violet and her alphas have built.

But peace doesn’t last—never for us.

“Henry?” My voice comes out quieter than I intend.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

I hesitate, chewing on the words for a moment before finally letting them out. “It’s not over, is it?”

Henry doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. He sighs softly, rubbing a gentle hand over his jaw. “No. It’s not.”

I stare out into the darkness beyond the porch, heart tightening with both fear and anger. Shadows stretch long, concealing whatever lies waiting for us. “Whoever hurt me—whoever’s behind it—”

“We’ll find them,” Henry promises, voice firm and unwavering. “I won’t let them near you again.”

I glance up at him, grateful for his strength, though deep down I know it’s not that simple. It never is.

My fingers unconsciously brush the bruises that used to be on my wrists, reminders of the pain I’ve fought to overcome. “They tried to break me, Henry. They almost did.”

He moves closer, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “But they didn’t.”

I meet his gaze, something fierce igniting in my chest. “No, they didn’t. And when they come again—”

“We’ll be ready,” Henry finishes softly, eyes flashing with protective fury. “You’re stronger than they realize, Odette. Stronger than even you realize.”

I let the weight of his words sink in, drawing courage from the quiet strength beside me. He’s right. Whatever comes next, I won’t face it alone.

Inside, Violet’s laughter echoes softly through the door, a bright spot of hope in the quiet darkness. I inhale deeply, steadying myself.

“Good,” I whisper softly, more to myself than anyone else. “Because I have a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Henry nods grimly, eyes serious. “Then we’ll face it head-on.”

Together, we stand quietly in the darkness—watchful, determined, ready.

Whatever comes next, I’ll meet it head-on.

The end for now…

I know! Please don’t hate me! The story continues with Odette. Who hurt her? What about the omega fights? How do you take on a government black ops faction? I promise the things left unsaid will be revealed in the last book in the Bound and Broken series. 

Loved Violet’s story? Please consider leaving a review—it means the world and helps other readers find their next favorite mate-chasing, nest-building, dagger-wielding omega.

COMING SOON: Odette’s Story
She was stolen, broken, and left behind. Now? She's not just surviving—she’s hunting.

After the rescue, everyone thought Odette Black would take time to heal, to rest, and to disappear into recovery quietly. But Odette remembers enough—flashes of blood, chains, and the echo of her own screams. She may not know the full truth of what happened in that basement, but she knows one thing for sure:

She was never meant to survive.

But she did.

And now that she's awake, the people who built the cage better pray she doesn't remember everything. Because Odette isn't the same sweet, unassuming omega they once thought easy to break.

She's rising. She's ready. And this time, the monsters should be afraid of her.

Dark secrets are surfacing. Hidden enemies are closing in. Alphas who claim she’s theirs. Odette is about to find out that sometimes the only way to reclaim yourself... is to destroy them all.

Bound and Broken Series:

Knot Ruined (Fallon’s Story)

Knot Broken (Violet's story)

Knot Shattered (Odette’s story coming soon)