48. Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Eight
Emma
M ore masked, uniformed officers thunder into the ruined room, boots pounding and weapons raised.
Panic flares sharp as lightning. I can’t tell if these are more of the commissioner’s men, or simply fresh monsters.
Asher scoops me up, strong arms cradling me tight against his chest, shielding my body with his own before I have a chance to scream.
I cling to his collar, my tears soaking the lapel of his suit.
Soren and Phoenix step over to join us, battle-bruised and streaked in blood, but still making themselves a wall of muscle between me and more danger.
Phoenix plants himself at my right, chin lifted, gaze glittering with the threat of violence.
Soren takes my left, breathing hard, hands clenched into ready fists.
One of the officers rips off his mask. His face is lined, hair silver at the temples, blue eyes sharp and clear as they cut across the chaos. Something in the set of his jaw makes Asher exhale. Soren’s whole stance shifts from taut to guarded trust, and Phoenix's fists loosen just a fraction.
“Dawson,” Asher breathes, relief and exhaustion in the word. He barely spares a heartbeat before turning, strong even while he stands, still holding me as though I weigh nothing.
“I assume you saw everything?” Soren asks.
Dawson gives him a sharp nod and his gaze flicks to the commissioner’s broken body. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the proof is indisputable.”
Phoenix jerks his chin toward the door Hardwick vanished through. “Hardwick took Leah. She’s armed and desperate, and she went through there. Your people need to move.”
“You heard the man!” Asher barks. “Go get her!” Several officers bolt over prone bodies and through the door without a backward glance.
Dawson arches a brow at Asher. “As far as the city’s concerned, you can’t officially order any of us around, Detective.”
Asher bares his teeth in a humorless smile, voice rumbling with defiance. “Then I’m reinstating myself.” His arms tighten around me, his glare daring anyone to challenge him. “This is the beginning of the end.”
Dawson rubs at his brow, but he doesn’t argue.
His gaze sweeps the devastation, landing briefly on Skylar, her frail, battered form barely upright.
But when he sees Aubrey his eyes don’t leave.
The omega kneels with his head low, body curled in on itself.
Shadows crater his cheeks, eyes sunken and rimmed with purple, lips split and bloodied.
There’s a look to him. Hollowed out, vacant, far beyond fear into a kind of numb emptiness.
He blinks at nothing, gaze somewhere far away, adrift in his own pain.
Broken. So broken.
A muscle in Dawson’s jaw jumps. When he speaks, his voice is rough but achingly gentle.
“Glad you put an end to it. No alpha should treat an omega—anyone—like this.” His eyes flick to the commissioner’s crumpled body with an expression bordering on disgust. “And if you hadn’t done what you did, there’d still be a line of alphas behind him ready to pick up where he left off. ”
Asher sets his jaw and shakes his head. “It’s not me you ought to thank. Pack Hawthorne are the ones who stopped him. Leah’s their scent-matched mate. Nothing will stand in their way.”
Dawson’s eyes flare wide at that news. He breathes, barely more than a whisper. “So, it is possible…”
His attention slides inexorably back to Aubrey, and when he sees the leash tight around the omega’s bruised neck, something in him gives way.
A wounded sound escapes him, too soft for anyone but those close to hear.
Dawson strides past the officers handcuffing the downed alphas, drops straight to his knees in front of Aubrey.
There’s no authority in the gesture, just a quiet, desperate gentleness.
Aubrey flinches, shoulders hunching, when Dawson’s hands lift toward the collar. Dawson’s touch pauses, voice dropping to a broken whisper. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. Not ever again.”
Aubrey doesn’t move a muscle, but he lets Dawson take the collar from around his neck. When the leash finally comes away, Dawson tosses it across the room. Aubrey’s gaze locks on Dawson as he slowly raises a shaking hand to the extensive bruising on his neck.
“We’ll take them both to Pinnacle,” Adrian says, looking between Aubrey and Skylar. “They’ll be safe in the Healing Center. Sophie will be ready to take them in.”
Mira told me all about the center she runs with Zane’s sister, and I know it will be the best place for them. They’ll get everything they need there. Medically and psychologically.
Dawson nods, relief deepening the lines of exhaustion on his face. “Thank you.”
Adrian steps away to make the call, his voice low but certain, relaying urgent details.
“Sophie, it’s Adrian. We have two more omegas.
As gentle as you can. Both are severely traumatized.
We need you here to take them. Cole and I need to leave to tend to Mira.
” He ends the call, catching Dawson’s eye.
“Sophie and her team will be here soon.”
“We’ll get it sorted for her and make sure they stay safe.
” Dawson nods before turning again to Aubrey.
His hand hovers, clenching only inches above Aubrey’s shoulder before he pulls it back.
Aubrey draws away, breath quickening. Dawson’s jaw flexes, but he keeps his voice gentle, almost hopeful.
“I—I hope you’ll let me visit you when you’re better, Aubrey. Only if you want.”
“We will need to speak with Aubrey and Skylar in the near future,” Asher says, not just for the room but for the record, his tone measured and thoughtful.
“Being the omegas of both Axel Turns and Evelyn Hardwick, they’re at the center of this whole operation.
They’ll have information that can help us unravel the network hiding beneath their feet.
But”—he glances at Aubrey, flinching in shadow, and Skylar, too frail and raw to even meet his gaze—”perhaps speaking to another omega will be best. Someone who knows what it’s like. ”
Asher’s words are gentle, almost apologetic, as if he’s disappointed in every alpha who’s ever failed them.
Then his attention finds me. Full, direct, smoldering with something fierce and protective.
“But for now, our omega needs us.” His voice is velvet and iron; care and command.
I feel the absolute truth of it. I am not a secondary thought. I am the center of his world.
A wave of heat crashes over me, so sudden and fierce I groan with the impact.
My thoughts go blurry at the edges with shimmery gold.
Every nerve in my body catches fire. Clothes are too heavy and scratchy on my skin.
My heart races in my chest as the low ache in my belly flares into ravenous life, and the electric current of need curls through me.
A fresh, desperate cramp seizes my hips and my scent pours out in thick waves: wild honeysuckle, rain-slicked grass, lush and dizzying, changed now with the unmistakable honey-sweetness of an omega in heat.
My perfume swirls around us, clinging to my alphas’ skin, their eyes darkening, their jawlines tightening as instinct and desire sharpen the air .
I clutch at Asher’s jacket, overwhelmed by the sheer pulse of want, my body shaking as my thighs press together. “Alpha,” I gasp, fear and excitement tangled on my tongue.
Asher’s eyes burn with urgency and tenderness. “Moonbeam, you’re burning up. We need to take you home.”
Yesss. Home. Nest. Alphas. Knots. Cocks .
Burning need sears my blood but worry gnaws at me, even as my hips begin to rock. “Leah—”
Asher cups my jaw. “Pack Hawthorne won’t stop until they bring her home, Emma. You have my word. Adrian and Dawson are giving them every resource that money and the law can provide. Right now, you need us more than anything else.”
Dawson nods tightly in agreement. “They’ll track her, Omega. We’ll handle everything on this end.”
Phoenix leans into my ear, voice dark and smoky. “Let us help you now, Tough Girl.”
Soren’s words are softer, a sensual murmur ghosting over my overheated skin, “You need all of us now. Let us give you the heat you’ve always deserved.”
A shiver races through me, anticipation and exhilaration rippling up my spine.
This isn’t anything like my heats with Pack Carmichael, where fear soured every rush of need.
This is something wild and beautiful and mine.
My hunger. My claim. My alphas are here, their bodies and hearts a shelter.
A flush of excitement surges in my blood; for the first time, my heat is like a promise.
Not a punishment.
I burn with it, trembling and eager, surrounded by the ones who will worship, protect, and heal every part of me.
And I let myself want—recklessly, joyously—because I know, finally, I will be tended the way I should have been all along.
Not the heats stolen from me by The Haven Institute, by Pack Carmichael, or by any alpha who wants to exploit me for my biology.
The wild roar inside me is golden, glorious, not a single thread of fear tainting it.
Asher’s eyes burn with promise, Phoenix’s mouth is set with determination and longing, Soren’s hands tremble with restraint and tenderness.
They hold me close, still bruised and bloody, but their bodies form an unbreakable, gentle wall around me.
Everything in me quivers. My skin is fever-hot, my thighs clench and slick soaks my ruined dress. My heart is certain. This need will not be my undoing, but my healing.
I let my gaze linger on each of my mates. “Please… take me home. To my nest.” My lips part on a gasp as another wave of heat ripples through me, raw and infinite. “I need all of you. Right now. Please.”
Soren brushes the tangled hair from my forehead, voice wrecked with longing. “As many times as you need us, Butterfly. We’re yours.”
And for the first time in my life, I fully surrender.
Asher shifts me in his arms, his grip gentle but iron-strong, one palm spanning the small of my back as the fever of my heat builds to an inferno.
The world tilts, sounds, colors, scents blurring into a half-remembered dream.
My senses narrow to the nearness of my alphas, the anchoring sensation of Asher’s hand and the steady, rumbling promise of his voice in my ear.
“Hold on, Emma,” he growls, the sound low and possessive, thick with the edge of his own need. “Just a little farther. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you.”
Phoenix ghosts a hand over my hip, steering us through the labyrinthine staff hallway lined with crates and utility doors.
Soren, silent and deadly on my other side, scans every shadow.
They keep me cocooned, growling at anyone who so much as glances my way.
Asher doesn’t slow, his stride predatory and sure as he carries me down flights of stairs hidden from the gala’s velvet chaos, the air dense with the scent of alphas and my own sickly-sweet perfume.
The voices and footsteps trailing us fade into a distant, meaningless buzz.
Soren’s hand tangles with mine, thumb stroking over my pulse, grounding me, and Phoenix lets out a string of curses under his breath whenever someone’s path crosses ours, his body tensed like a live wire as I start to writhe in my alpha’s grip.
There’s a rush of night air, headlights in the alley, and then Asher is gently setting me on my feet long enough to bundle me into the back seat of the car.
Soren slides in on my right, Phoenix on my left, the solid heat of their bodies caging me into the soft leather of the back seat.
Asher takes the wheel, his hands white-knuckled, focus burning in the rearview as he guns the engine, its growly purr vibrating through me.
Streetlights flash by in shuddering golden streaks, the city sliding past in a blur.
Every second I spend without them is too long.
A molten ache twists through me. My thighs press together, seeking relief, but it’s not enough.
Soren’s hand slides up the inside of my arm, slow but purposeful, his eyes warm and dark and hungry as they trace my face.
Phoenix’s palm comes to rest at the inside of my knee, thumb drawing lazy circles that do nothing to soothe, only to inflame.
Another cramp rips through me, sharp and savage and so strong I cry out, arching between them. I grab at Soren’s knee, Phoenix’s forearm, desperate, my breath coming in ragged sobs.
“Please. Alpha.” My voice is little more than a breathless whimper.
Asher’s gaze flicks up in the rearview, eyes dark and wild, possessive with command. “Brothers, our omega asks for you. Give her the release she needs,” he growls.
Soren’s arm slides around my waist, gentle but unyielding, and he leans close enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear, his own breath trembling with restraint. “Come here, Butterfly. Let me help you.”
He pulls me onto his lap, my legs falling around his hips.
His sandalwood sharpens, heavy with musk as his erection presses against my clit and burning flames engulf me.
Soren cradles my face in one big hand, his thumb stroking my cheek as I whimper at this first, delicious touch.
“Please, Omega,” Soren says. “Let me give you what you need.”