Chapter 1
one
KITANIA
The gunshots still echoed in my ears, deafening blasts that seemed to have stolen all the other sounds from the world. Vincent’s body lay sprawled on the polished hardwood floor, blood spreading beneath him in a dark, shining pool. I stood frozen, the gun still clutched in my trembling hand, my finger curled around the trigger as if it had fused there. The acrid smell of gunpowder burned my nostrils, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that grew stronger with each shallow breath I took. I’d expected to feel pain, to feel my own life draining away from the bullet Vincent had fired. Instead, I stood unharmed while he stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, his face locked in an expression of permanent surprise.
Time seemed to stretch and distort around me. Had it been seconds or minutes since I’d pulled the trigger? My brain struggled to process what had happened. Vincent had aimed at me, I was certain of it. I’d seen the hatred in his eyes, the determination in the set of his jaw as he’d leveled the gun at my chest. I’d braced myself for the impact, for the tearing of flesh and the darkness that would follow.
But his bullet had missed me completely.
My gaze shifted to the wall behind where I stood, to the small, jagged hole now marring the pristine surface. A family photo hung crooked from the impact, its glass fractured across Dimitri’s smiling face. My entire body went cold from how close I’d come to dying. To death.
A whine, quiet yet high-pitched, sounded from the other room, piercing through my shock.
“Tommas,” I whispered, the name barely audible even to my own ears.
My gun clattered to the floor as horror surged through me, breaking the paralysis that had held me in place. I lurched forward, my sock-covered feet slipping on the polished hardwood as I rounded the corner toward the living room. My heart hammered against my ribs; each beat a desperate prayer—please, please, please. I need him to be okay. For him to be alive.
Oh, God.
My prayers died the moment I entered the living room.
Tommas lay sprawled across the expensive rug, one arm flung out to his side, the other draped across his abdomen, where dark crimson bloomed through his shirt. Beretta, who was also injured and bleeding from his leg, laid beside him, his muscular head propped on his owner’s chest. The dog’s anxiety was palpable, whining as he nudged at Tommy’s chin with his snout.
“No, no, no,” I chanted, the words spilling from my lips in an endless stream as I dropped to my knees beside them.
Blood soaked into my leggings, warm and wet and tacky, but I barely noticed. My hands hovered uselessly over my mate for a moment, trembling so violently I could barely control them as I assessed the damage. Then instinct took over, and I pressed them firmly against the wound in his abdomen.
Warm blood gushed between my fingers, so much of it that my stomach lurched. Tommas groaned at the pressure, the sound weak but alive. His eyelids fluttered, revealing pain-glazed green eyes that struggled to focus on my face.
“Tommy, stay with me,” I pleaded, voice breaking over the words. “Please, baby, stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Tears burned hot tracks down my cheeks, dropping onto his chest where they mingled with his blood. I pressed harder against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of life that spilled freely. His blood was so warm against my palms. And yet his skin was clammy. Chilled.
No! Oh God. He’s dying.
I had to do something. Had to act.
I needed to call 911, but I was terrified to let go long enough to get my phone.
Beretta whined again, more insistently this time, but I couldn’t tear my attention from Tommas’ features, from the blue tinge that had begun to color his lips.
“Tommy, look at me,” I begged, as his lids drifted closed again. “No! Open your eyes. Please.”
Hearing my raw desperation, his lashes fluttered open once more, gaze finding mine. The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been an attempt at his usual playful smile, but it only made my heart fracture further.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, forcing steadiness into my voice despite the terror clawing up my throat. “Stay with me. Help is coming. You’re going to be fine.”
I wasn’t sure if the words were for him or for me. Beneath my hands, his chest rose and fell in shallow, irregular breaths. His usually golden skin had taken on a frightening pallor, making the freckles across his nose seem starker.
“K-Kit,” he whispered, the single syllable followed by a wet cough that brought a bubble of blood to the corner of his mouth.
“Shh, don’t try to talk.” One blood-covered hand left the wound long enough to stroke his face, smearing crimson across his cheek as I tried to soothe him. “Just focus on breathing, okay? In and out. Stay with me.”
Using my free hand, I maneuvered my shirt off, over my head and down my arm, leaving only a sports bra to keep me modest. Balling the fabric against the bullet hole that had torn through his stomach, I pressed down hard, trying to slow how fast he was bleeding out. The pressure drew another pained groan from him.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I know it hurts, but I have to stop the bleeding.”
A growing sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelm me as the cotton slowly changed from white to red.
Beretta’s low growl finally pulled my attention. His ears perked forward, dark eyes shifting between me and something behind me. The subtle sound of footsteps registered in my peripheral awareness. The Doberman shifted his position, struggling to stand, limping to place himself protectively between us and whoever had entered the penthouse.
I felt the weight of someone’s gaze on my back, and dread curled through me as I realized I’d left my gun behind.
Slowly, I turned my head, careful to keep the pressure firm, despite the movement.
Enzo stood in the doorway, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the newcomer was a friend and not a foe.
There was a look of shock on his face as his gaze moved from Tommas’ bleeding form to my blood-covered hands, then to the hallway where Vincent’s body lay. “Holy shit.”
“Enzo! Thank God. Call an ambulance. Tommy is… He’s—” I couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t face the reality that his life was hanging on by a thread. “He’s been shot.”
His hand rested on his holstered gun while his brows drew together, the expression matching the frown on his face. He stared deeper into the penthouse as though he were scanning for threats, but we didn’t have time for that.
“Enzo! Vincent’s dead,” I told him, hoping it would spur him into action once he knew the danger had been eliminated. I hadn’t taken the time to catalogue the room, but there were other men in here, sprawled on the ground. Strange men I didn’t recognize.
I was positive they were Vincent’s guys. Valentinos. And like their boss, they stared into the abyss with unseeing eyes.
“Enzo!” I barked, putting as much authority behind his name as possible. It was a command for his attention, and though I was only an Omega and, as a Beta, he outranked me in designation, I was technically above him in the hierarchy since I was scent matched with his boss. “Help me. He’s bleeding out. Call. An. Ambulance. Now!”
Beretta, sensing my upset, positioned himself more firmly between us and Enzo, punctuating my demand with a low, deep growl.
Enzo’s gaze snapped back to mine, wide with surprise from the ferocity of my order. Whether or not that ‘bark’ is what pierced through his daze, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, because the spell that had held him motionless shattered, and he jumped into action.
In three quick strides, he crossed the room and dropped to a knee opposite me.
“You’re doing a good job. Keep that pressure steady,” he instructed, placing his hand over mine to guide me. “But press harder than that, sweetheart.”
I nodded and pressed down with all my strength, drawing yet another pained moan from Tommas. His lids fluttered open, his gaze finding my face in a moment of clarity amid the pain. His lips moved, trying to form my name again, but no sound emerged.
“I’m here, Tommy,” I assured him, forcing a smile through my tears. “I’m right here. Just stay with me.”
Beretta had relaxed slightly at Enzo’s change in demeanor, though he remained vigilant, his dark eyes moving between us and the doorway, as if expecting more danger to appear.
Enzo pulled out his phone, his movements quick and efficient as he dialed with one hand while reaching for Tommas’ wrist with the other, checking his pulse. I watched his face for any reaction, any hint of how bad it might be, but his expression remained carefully controlled.
“Johanson,” he barked at the man on the other end of the line. “We’ve got a situation at the penthouse. Tommas is down. GSW to the abdomen, significant blood loss. Vincent’s dead, along with a handful of others. Some are ours. Some are theirs.”
He paused, listening to whatever response came through the line. His attention flicked my way, something unidentifiable flickering in his gaze.
“Yeah, she’s fine. Shaken up but unharmed.” Another pause. “Send the team now. And notify the brothers.”
Brothers. Plural. My heart stuttered at the implication. At the hope.
Did that mean they were alive? All of them?
Please, please let them be okay.
I wanted to grab the phone, to demand answers, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take my hands from Tommy’s wound.
“Tommy,” I urged, refocusing on his pale features. Those green eyes of his had drifted closed again. “Baby, stay awake. Help is coming. Just hold on.”
His skin held more of a grayish tinge now, and that terrified me. I’d seen enough death in my life to recognize its approach, the way it drained color and warmth from living flesh. I pressed harder on the wound, ignoring the ache in my arms and the slick wetness of blood that had soaked through the knees of my yoga pants.
“L-love you,” he whispered, each word clearly costing him.
A sob caught in my throat. “Don’t you dare say your goodbyes. Save your strength and tell me that again when you’re better.”
He shook his head slightly, grimacing at the movement. “Love...you,” he repeated, but this time the words were so faint I barely heard them.
Something shattered inside me. “I love you, too,” I choked out, needing him to know. “So much. That’s why you have to stay with me, okay? You can’t leave me. Not now. I can’t lose you.”
Enzo had moved to the doorway, speaking quietly into his phone, his posture tense and alert. Beretta whined, pressing closer to Tommas’ side, his dark eyes reflecting an understanding of the gravity of the situation that seemed almost human.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the hallway—raised voices, heavy footsteps—but I couldn’t pull my attention from Tommas’ face. Not until the living room abruptly filled with noise and movement, a rush of energy that surged through the door all at once.
Dimitri, Giovanni, and Marco. The sight of them stole what little breath I had left. They looked like they’d been through hell—clothes torn and bloodied, faces streaked with soot and grime, grave looking injuries marring their skin—but they were alive. Wonderfully, miraculously alive.
Dimitri’s gaze found me immediately, widening with relief and fear as he took in the scene before him. He crossed the room quickly and fell to his knees at my side. Strong hands cupped my face, eyes frantically scanning for injuries beneath the blood that covered me.
“I’m okay.” I leaned into his touch even as I maintained pressure on his brother’s wound. “I—I killed Vincent. He—he shot Tommy and—”
The rest of the words refused to come. A sob caught in my throat as the full weight of everything crashed down on me at once. The fear. The hunt. Vincent’s brutality. My hand clenched around the cold steel of the gun. The bullet that had somehow missed me. Pulling the trigger. Killing a man. Then finding my mate, my Alpha, dying on the floor of our living room. The terrible, endless minutes of watching his life seep out of him, of begging him not to leave me.
Gio settled on Tommy’s other side, his hands gently covering mine, replacing them. “I’ve got him, Sweetness,” he promised, soft but firm. “You did good. So damn good.”
“I-I can’t…”
Giovanni’s steady gaze held me captive, a silent vow in the depths of his dark eyes. “Let go, Kit. Let us take care of him now. Let us take care of you both.”
My hands shook as I relented, letting Gio take control. Gently, Dimitri pulled me against his chest. The familiar scent of sandalwood and honey enveloped me, and though it was soothing, being in the comfort of his arms, back in a safe place, allowed me to truly fall apart.
I sobbed while Dimitri purred. The loud, rumbling sound was everything I needed, except for all of us to somehow be okay again.
I concentrated on breathing through the emotional hiccups that surfaced, listening to the soft promises Dimitri whispered into my hair to help me calm down. “You’re safe, Kitten. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Tommy is going to be alright. We’re all going to be fine.”
Behind him, Marco had taken Enzo’s phone, barking orders in a tone that brooked no argument. “Two minutes? We don’t have two fucking minutes. He needs blood now. Bring everything. And I mean everything .”
Dizzy from how hard I’d cried, I blinked slowly, feeling oddly disconnected from my body. The adrenaline that had been fueling me crashed, and the world seemed to blur at the edges. The room tilted and spun, sounds becoming muffled, as if I’d been submerged underwater. I was vaguely aware of Dimitri’s arms tightening around me, of his voice in my ear, though I couldn’t make out the words anymore.
I tried to focus on Tommy, to make sure he was still breathing, but my vision had narrowed to a pinpoint, black dots coalescing from all sides. The last thing I registered was Marco’s face swimming into view, his expression softening as he looked at me.
“Rest now, Angel.” He cupped my cheek, smoothing his thumb over the curve. “You’ve been so brave. So fucking brave.”
Darkness rushed in then, swallowing everything—the blood, the fear, the desperate relief—and I surrendered to it, too overwhelmed and exhausted to fight any longer. As consciousness slipped away, one thought echoed in my mind: We were alive. All of us. But for how long? And how much would we have to endure to keep it that way?