12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
“S hhh. It's fine.” I heard as I was turned around and looked into green eyes of of Lucas, I took a deep breath trying to stop the shaking in my hands.
"Lucas?" I gasped, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "What the hell?"
He released me, stepping back with his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"Well, you did a fantastic job of it anyway," I snapped, adrenaline making my voice sharper than intended. The alarm continued to blare, each pulse of sound like a needle to my nerves.
He grabbed the phone from my hand and hit end call before I could protest. My heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, pushing away from him, my voice stronger than I expected given how badly my hands were shaking.
"Saving your life," Lucas replied, his expression deadly serious. "Someone's trying to get in. We need to move. Now."
"How did you—" I started, but he cut me off.
"No time. Collins is on his way with backup." He gripped my arm firmly but not painfully, guiding me toward the front of the shop. "We need to get you somewhere safe."
Another crash sounded from the back room, louder this time, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. My blood ran cold as I realized whoever had broken in was now inside my shop.
"Move," Lucas urged, his voice low and urgent as he pulled me toward the front door.
"My shop—" I protested, looking back at the shelves of flowers, the arrangements we'd spent all day creating.
"Is insured," Lucas finished firmly. "Your life isn't replaceable."
Before I could argue further, the storage room door burst open. A figure dressed in black from head to toe stood in the doorway, face obscured by a ski mask. In their hand was something that glinted metallically in the dim light—a syringe.
My breath caught in my throat as memories of what Collins had told me flooded back. Hormone shock. Twelve dead Omegas. Injected with an experimental compound.
Lucas moved with startling speed, shoving me behind him and letting out a low, warning growl that vibrated through the air. The sound was primal, pure Alpha, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
"Run," he ordered, not taking his eyes off the intruder. "Get to the front. Gabriel will be there."
I hesitated, torn between flight and some irrational need to protect my shop, my territory. The masked figure lunged forward, and Lucas met them halfway, their bodies colliding with enough force to shake the nearby shelves. A vase toppled and shattered, petals and water splashing across the floor.
"Vivian, GO!" Lucas shouted as he grappled with the intruder.
The command jolted me into action. I turned and ran toward the front of the shop, nearly slipping on scattered rose petals. Behind me, I could hear grunts and the sounds of breaking glass as they fought. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out even the wailing alarm.
I almost reached the front door, a crash from behind me made me spin around, just in time to see Lucas thrown against a display of orchids. The masked figure advanced, moving with unnatural speed and precision.
In that moment, the front door burst open. Collins stood in the doorway, his imposing frame silhouetted against the streetlights outside. His eyes locked with mine for a fraction of a second before moving past me to the scene unfolding in my shop.
"Get outside," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I slipped past him into the cool night air, gulping it down like I'd been drowning. Outside, I spotted Reeves and another man—presumably Theodore, the fourth pack member Reeves had mentioned—standing alert, scanning the street.
"Stay with her," Collins commanded, and then he was gone, rushing into the shop where Lucas was still fighting the intruder.
Reeves moved to my side instantly. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice oddly gentle as his eyes scanned me for injuries.
"I'm fine," I managed, though my voice sounded strange even to my own ears. "But Lucas—"
"Can handle himself," Reeves assured me, guiding me further from the shop entrance. "Collins will help him."
Theodore approached, his expression grim. Unlike the others, he seemed less physically imposing—tall but lean, with wire-rimmed glasses and an air of quiet intensity. "Police are three minutes out," he reported, holding up a tablet. "No other suspicious activity detected.”
More sounds of struggle echoed from inside the shop. The crash of breaking glass, the thud of bodies against walls, Collins's deep voice shouting something I couldn't make out. I took a step toward the entrance, but Reeves's hand shot out, gripping my arm.
"Don't even think about it," he warned, his tone brooking no argument.
"But they're destroying my shop," I protested, trying to pull away. "Everything I've worked for—"
"Will still be there tomorrow," Theodore interrupted, his voice softer than Reeves's but equally firm. "You might not be, if you go back in there."
I stopped struggling, the reality of his words sinking in. Someone had broken into my shop with a syringe—the same method used to kill those other Omegas. This wasn't about property damage; it was about my life.
"The intruder had a syringe," I said, my voice hollow.
Theodore's head snapped toward me, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. "You're certain?"
I nodded, the image of the glinting needle burned into my memory. "Absolutely."
Reeves and Theodore exchanged a look that made my stomach clench.
"That confirms it," Theodore said quietly. "You were specifically…”
“…targeted," Reeves finished, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "This wasn't random."
I swallowed hard, trying to process this information. "Because of the business card they found on that Omega? Or because of Jensen and Thompson using my shop as a meeting place?"
"Possibly both," Theodore said, his eyes still scanning the street. "But the syringe indicates they know exactly who you are and what you might know."
"But I don't know anything," I insisted, frustration building alongside the fear. "I've told Collins everything."
Reeves's expression softened slightly. "They don't know that. All they know is that Jensen came to your shop in a panic right before he disappeared. In their minds, that makes you a loose end."
Before I could respond, a crash echoed from inside the shop, followed by an eerie silence. The three of us froze, staring at the entrance, waiting.
Collins emerged first, his expression grim, a cut above his eyebrow dripping blood down the side of his face. Lucas followed, limping slightly but otherwise intact.
"Lost him," Collins reported tersely. "Went out the back and over the fence. Theodore—"
"Already on it," Theodore replied, fingers flying over his tablet. "Accessing street cameras now."
I stared at my shop through the open door, my heart sinking at the destruction visible even from outside. Shattered vases, scattered flowers, overturned displays—it looked like a tornado had torn through it.
Collins strode toward me, his movements purposeful despite the blood on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, eyes scanning me just as Reeves had done moments before.
"I'm fine," I said automatically, though I was anything but. "The shop..."
"Can be fixed," he replied firmly. "You can't."
In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder with each passing second. Collins turned to Theodore, who was still working on his tablet.
"Anything?"
Theodore shook his head, frustration evident in the tight line of his mouth. "Lost him three blocks north. He knew where the cameras were—avoided most of them."
Collins cursed under his breath, then turned back to me. "You're coming with us. It's not safe for you here anymore."
"What? No," I protested, instinctively backing away. "I can't just leave. This is my life, my business. I have responsibilities."
"Which won't matter if you're dead," Collins said bluntly. His blue eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. "This isn't a request, Vivian."
The use of my first name caught me off guard. Until now, it had always been "Ms. Reed" with formal detachment. The shift felt significant somehow, breaking down a barrier I hadn't realized existed.
"What about Jamie?" I asked, grasping for practical concerns to counterbalance the fear threatening to overwhelm me. "He works here too. If I'm in danger, so is he."
"Already handled," Theodore said, glancing up from his tablet. "Officer Martinez is stationed outside his apartment building. He'll be protected."
I bit my lip and shook my head, “I can’t. I won’t…” I didn’t get to say anything else as I heard Collin give a low growl.
"You can and you will," Collins interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This isn't a request, Vivian. It's for your protection."
"Protection?" I repeated, anger flaring hot and bright, momentarily eclipsing my fear. "Look at my shop! How is this protection?"
"He's right," Lucas said, stepping forward despite his limp. "Whoever that was came specifically for you. They had a syringe, Vivian. The other Omega’s that have died passed with mysterious causes and we think it is because of what was in that syringe.”
The sirens grew louder, and I could see the flashing lights approaching down the street. My mind raced, trying to find a way out of this, a way to maintain some control over my life when everything seemed to be spiraling away from me.
"Listen to me," Collins said, his voice dropping lower, losing some of its commanding edge. "There was a moment when I thought we might not get here in time. When I thought..." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight. "I'm not letting you risk your life out of stubbornness."
"One night," I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll go with you for one night while we figure this out. But I need your word that I can check on the shop tomorrow, and that Jamie will be kept in the loop."
Collins studied me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might refuse, but then he gave a curt nod. "Fine. One night. We'll reassess tomorrow."
Relief flooded through me, though it was tempered by the knowledge that I was still leaving my shop—my sanctuary—behind. "I need to lock up properly, salvage what I can—"
"The police will secure the scene," Collins interrupted, glancing at the approaching patrol cars. "Theodore will handle the security system remotely. Right now, we need to get you somewhere safe."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my lips as police cars screeched to a halt outside the shop, their lights painting the street in alternating flashes of red and blue. Officers poured out, hands on their weapons as they approached.
"Detective Collins?" one called out.
Collins straightened, his professional mask sliding back into place. "Secure the perimeter. Suspect fled north, approximately three minutes ago. Male, medium build, dressed in black with a ski mask."
The officer nodded, already speaking into his radio as he dispatched others to search the area. I watched with a surreal detachment as my flower shop became a crime scene, yellow tape already being stretched across the entrance.
"Come on," Collins said, his hand settling on the small of my back to guide me toward a sleek black SUV parked nearby. "We need to go now."
I let him lead me away, shock finally setting in as the adrenaline began to ebb. My legs felt wobbly, and I was grateful for his steadying presence, though I'd never admit it out loud.
"What about my car?" I asked, grasping at practical concerns to keep the panic at bay.
"Theodore will drive it to the safe house later," Collins replied, opening the passenger door for me. "Right now, I want you with me."
I slid into the leather seat, oddly comforted by the clean, masculine scent that permeated the vehicle —a subtle blend of coffee, sandalwood, apricots and something distinctly Collins. He closed the door after me and rounded the vehicle, sliding into the driver's seat with a fluid grace that belied his size.
As we pulled away from the curb, I couldn't help but look back at my shop—my pride and joy, my inheritance, my future—now surrounded by police cars and crime scene tape. The reality of what had just happened hit me with sudden, brutal clarity.
Someone had tried to kill me.
I turned away from the window, staring straight ahead as Collins navigated through the quiet streets of the city. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the police radio mounted beneath the dashboard.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked, my voice sounding small even to my own ears.
"Somewhere secure." His voice was clipped, professional, but I could hear the undercurrent of tension. "Somewhere they won't think to look."
I nodded, suddenly too exhausted to argue further. The events of the past hour had drained me completely, leaving me hollow and numb. We drove in silence for several minutes, the city lights blurring as we moved away from the commercial district toward the outskirts of town.
"I'm sorry about your shop," Collins said finally, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We'll make sure it's taken care of."
"It's just... everything I have is there," I said, my voice catching unexpectedly. "My grandfather started it, my mother built it up... it's all I have left of them."
Collins glanced at me, his expression softening slightly. "It's not destroyed, Vivian. Just damaged. We'll help you rebuild."
"We?" I asked, raising an eyebrow despite my exhaustion.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Figure of speech."
We lapsed into silence again as he turned onto a winding road that led up into the hills overlooking the city. The houses here were larger, set far apart from each other, each property surrounded by trees and high fences. Old money, old power.
"This isn't what I expected," I said as we passed through an ornate iron gate that opened automatically at our approach. "I thought safe houses were supposed to be... inconspicuous."
"That's because this isn’t just a safe house.” Collins gave me a look, one I couldn't’ quiet understand.
“Then where are we?” I asked, not understanding why we weren’t going to a safe house like implied earlier.
“This is my home," he clarified at my surprised expression. "My pack's home."
I stared up at the sprawling house as we approached—a modern interpretation of a craftsman style, all clean lines and natural materials. Warm light glowed from several windows, the structure somehow managing to look both imposing and welcoming simultaneously.
"Your pack lives here? All of you?" I asked, trying to imagine Reeves, Lucas, Theodore, and Collins sharing a space without killing each other.
Collins nodded, pulling into a circular driveway. "It's practical. Safer. Pack instinct."
I studied his profile in the dim light of the car, the strong line of his jaw, the tension still evident in his shoulders. "And you're just bringing me here? To your den? Isn't that against some kind of Alpha code?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "You'd prefer a motel with paper-thin walls and a broken lock?"
I didn't answer, not trusting myself to speak as the implications of being brought to an Alpha pack's den settled over me. This wasn't standard procedure—not by a long shot. This was personal.
Collins shut off the engine and turned to face me fully. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but left a dark streak down the side of his face. Despite this, he radiated a calm authority that somehow managed to be reassuring rather than intimidating.
"Vivian," he said, his voice low and serious. "I know this is overwhelming. I know your world has been turned upside down. But right now, my priority is keeping you alive. This is the safest place for you."
I met his gaze, searching for any hint of deception and finding none. "Why go to all this trouble for me? I'm just a florist.”
Collins studied me for a long moment, his blue eyes searching my face. "You're not just a florist, Vivian. You're a witness. A potential target. And..." he paused, something flickering in his expression, "you're under my protection now."
The way he said it—my protection—sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. There was something possessive in his tone that should have set off alarm bells, but instead, it felt strangely reassuring.
"Come on," he said, breaking the moment. "Let's get you inside before you collapse."
Only then did I realize how badly I was trembling, delayed shock setting in as the adrenaline drained from my system. I fumbled with the seat belt, my fingers suddenly clumsy and uncooperative.
I was exhausted and I just needed to process what happened today. I needed to curl up in a nest and push the rest of the world out. I just hoped the rest of the night would be calm and no more surprises would happen. I didn’t think I could handle anything else before breaking.