Chapter 13
As we reconvene in the war room back at Rockford Manor, my blood still hums with residual adrenaline, the scent of gunpowder and death still burning my nostrils.
The scrape on my cheek stings as a reminder of how close I came to going back to that place, to those people. But a different memory cuts through the fear.
If anyone else touches you from now on, I will end them.
Sebastian stands at the map displayed on the wall, his scarred face tight with concentration as he marks locations with quick, efficient gestures.
Liam paces behind him, phone pressed to his ear as he keeps in contact with his younger brother, Damien, who’s still hunting down our missing extraction driver.
The air crackles, heavy with the metallic tang of anger rolling off every Alpha.
Caleb sits at the far end of the table, the bandages on his wound stark white. Our doctor on call had offered to tend to mine, too, but I’d rejected him. If anyone touches me right now, I’ll burst.
Caleb has regained his color, though pain still tightens his features. Our eyes connect across the polished wood, and he gives me a look of both acknowledgment and apology.
I return it, throat tight with words I can’t form.
The door swings open, and Aaiden enters, the atmosphere in the room shifting like a current changing direction.
He’s changed out of his bloodstained shirt into a fresh one, dark blue and pressed, despite the hour.
His hair is damp at the temples, suggesting a quick but thorough wash to remove any trace of violence.
“Gallo is secure,” he announces without preamble, moving to the head of the table. “Medical is treating him for shock, but he’ll be ready for questioning within the hour.”
His focus sweeps the room, pausing on me before moving on, and that brief attention shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, shouldn’t send heat blooming across my skin, but I don’t push it down anymore. Things have changed. I’m in his bed now. Claimed.
“What I want to know is how Tony had so many people in place before we arrived,” Aaiden continues, laying his palms flat on the table. “This wasn’t opportunistic. This was coordinated.”
“How many men did we lose?” Sebastian asks, fingers still moving across the map.
“None of ours,” Aaiden answers. “The primary extraction team reported in. They were diverted by a false report twenty minutes before Jade and Caleb entered the alley with Gallo.”
My name in his mouth. I shouldn’t fixate on the way his lips shape around it, but I do. The sound of it ripples through me, and I dig my fingernails into my palm to ground myself.
Liam, now off the phone, steps forward. “The extraction driver for the secondary location was found three blocks from the storage facility. Single shot to the back of the head. Clean. Professional.”
Tension ripples through the room.
Caleb curses under his breath. “The team that struck the primary route was designed to herd us into the trap.”
“So it appears.” Liam’s eyes flick to me. “That’s how they pinned Jade down so fast. They weren’t responding to the snatch. They were already in position.”
My stomach tightens at how close their plan had come to success.
“How did Tony know?” Caleb demands. “The location. The timing. The route. None of that was established until yesterday.”
“Was it surveillance on Gallo?” Sebastian turns away from his map, the scars on his face pulling tight. “Someone watching his movements who picked up our surveillance?”
“No, it was too coordinated. Too specific,” Liam says. This wasn’t about catching anyone watching Gallo. They knew when and where we’d move.”
Aaiden remains still at the head of the table. “Tony knew when we took out his lieutenant that his accountant was exposed. He knew we’d move, and when.”
“And more than that,” Caleb adds, “he wanted us to.”
The room falls silent, each person connecting dots toward a conclusion no one wants to speak aloud.
“This wasn’t about protecting Gallo,” Aaiden says at last, the words cutting through the silence. “This was about drawing someone out.”
“When Tony’s guy went after Gabe, he said Tony was on the hunt for our Omegas,” Caleb says. “He wants our mates.”
My skin prickles as I remember one of the hostiles threatening to return me to Tony’s people.
“Almost everyone is secured in the manor,” Sebastian states, and what he doesn’t say hangs in the air.
Everyone except me.
“Tony’s not just trying to protect what’s left of his business,” Aaiden says, dropping into a growl. “This is personal retaliation.”
Every Alpha in the room turns toward me, the only unclaimed Omega in Rockford Manor. No one mentioned it at breakfast when I arrived in the dining room with Aaiden and once again sat by his side, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
There’s no way Tony could know about my change in relationship with Aaiden, though, is there? Everyone who works for the Rockfords is loyal.
He’s only after me because he knows I’m important to the family.
My fingers curl into fists under the table as memories threaten to surface. Dark rooms. Rough hands. Pain beyond bearing. I force them back, focusing on the present, on the wood beneath my palms, the cool air on my skin, the subtle ache of my cheekbone where brick fragments struck it.
“No more solo missions,” Aaiden states. “Sebastian, I want full perimeter reports every hour. Caleb, coordinate with our contacts in law enforcement. We need to know if Tony’s bribing anyone new. Someone have Nolan pull his sources at the clubs. Listen for chatter.”
As they move to fulfill their assigned tasks, Aaiden turns to Caleb.
“You’re on medical leave until cleared by Dr. Walton.”
Caleb opens his mouth to protest, but Aaiden cuts him off with a look that brooks no argument.
“Damien will take over your responsibilities.”
Damien nods, but I catch the way he assesses me, wondering if I’ll accept him as a stand-in for Caleb.
It doesn’t matter what I accept. The decision is made.
Aaiden turns to me last. “You’ll remain in the manor until further notice.”
The restriction chafes, but I expected it. After what happened tonight, I’d be a fool to argue. Still, the prospect of being caged, even in a place as vast as Rockford Manor, stirs the old restlessness in my bones.
“And Gallo?” I ask.
“Will talk,” Aaiden answers, the confidence in those two words carrying absolute certainty, and I don’t doubt him.
Not after what I witnessed tonight.
The meeting continues, the conversation turning to security protocols and intelligence gathering.
I listen, absorbing the details, but my awareness keeps shifting back to Aaiden, admiring the controlled movements of his hands as he points to locations on the map, his steady cadence as he issues directives, and the way his presence fills the room even when he stands motionless.
After what happened tonight, this distance feels wrong in a way it didn’t before. His words in that moment weren’t just protection. They were a claim. Territory marked in blood.
The war room warms as I stand there, and I tug at the collar of my shirt, the fabric rough on skin that’s grown too sensitive in the past hour. Sweat gathers at my temples and the small of my back, my clothes sticking uncomfortably.
Something isn’t right, a pressure building beneath my skin, separate from the danger we’re discussing.
Aaiden moves to the map, pointing out security weaknesses along the perimeter of one of Tony’s remaining properties. His voice cuts through the room, but it’s his pheromones that hit me hardest.
They’re normally contained, but they’re amplified tonight, cutting through everything else in the room. They sink hooks deep into my core, tugging whenever he moves, demanding I move closer.
The adrenaline from the mission should be fading, but instead, it intensifies with each passing minute.
I shift, adjusting my stance for what must be the tenth time in as many minutes.
My focus fractures, attention splitting between the tactical discussion and the way Aaiden’s shoulder muscles move beneath his shirt as he gestures at the display.
“We increase surveillance here and here,” he says, marking two points on the map. “Double teams, rotating shifts.”
Someone asks a question. I should be tracking the answer, should be absorbing this information, but I find myself staring at Aaiden’s hands instead. Those hands executed six men only an hour ago. Those hands also checked my wound with unexpected gentleness afterward.
I force my attention away, but it returns to him within seconds, drawn back by some invisible thread I can’t break.
Across the room, Caleb catches my eye, and I straighten my posture, trying to appear more focused than I am. But the effort only makes me more conscious that something is off.
Aaiden passes my position, and as I inhale instinctively, his scent sends the room spinning. His pheromones fill my lungs, triggering a cascade of responses I can’t control as my pulse quickens, my skin flushes, and heat pools in my hips.
I tell myself it’s the aftermath of the fight. I almost died tonight, and for the first time in months, I cared about surviving. It’s an adrenaline dump. It’s the same as when I got stabbed, the faux-Heat as my body reacted to the danger.
But even as I think it, I know that’s not quite right.
My focus returns to Aaiden across the room, only to find him watching me, his attention sharpening in a way that doesn’t match the rest of the conversation. He tracks my restlessness, the slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, and the way I keep inching closer to the front of the room.
Closer to him.
“Increased patrols won’t be enough,” Sebastian argues, pulling my attention back to the discussion. “We need to go on the offensive. Draw Tony out.”
“Not yet,” Aaiden counters, his gaze still flicking to me between sentences. “We need more intel on his remaining resources.”