Chapter 29 #2
I glance at the three of them. My brothers. Not by blood. By bond. By fire. Mack, who barely knows Cindy but still ran into the fire to warn us. Luke and Arrow, bleeding loyalty, burning alive with fury.
The same fury that’s roaring through my chest.
“All right.” I step toward the door. “On three?”
“Fuck three,” Mack growls.
He throws his whole body into the door, slamming it open with a deafening crash. It smacks into someone outside, bone and wood colliding in a sick crunch. A shout cuts through the air.
And then?—
We’re moving.
Exploding out of the warehouse like a goddamn wildfire.
I don’t wait to see the damage. Don’t look back.
Cindy is waiting.
And I’ll tear the fucking world apart before I let that bastard put a ring on her finger.
The warehouse opens onto a loading dock.
Three guys there, big, broad-shouldered, dressed in black with leather vests and the skull emblem from the Savage Sons. One of them is already on the ground from Mack’s door slam, blood leaking between his fingers as he clutches his face and groans.
The other two don’t hesitate. They’re already moving, hands diving for weapons.
“Got company!” one of them barks, voice sharp with adrenaline.
Mack is on the closest one before he can even clear his waistband. They slam into each other, crashing down hard onto the concrete in a flurry of fists and fury.
Arrow doesn’t hesitate. He swings the pipe like a bat. Bone cracks as metal meets ribs. The third guy crumples forward with a scream, clutching his side.
Luke is right there to meet him. Grabs the guy by the shirt collar, yanks him up, and drives a fist into his jaw. Once. Twice. The sick thud of impact echoes across the dock. The guy slumps, out cold.
Then footsteps.
Running.
Three more shadows burst around the corner of the warehouse. Reinforcements. Big ones.
“Fuck,” Arrow mutters, already turning to face them. He plants his feet wide, pipe raised like it’s just an extension of his arm. “Holt, go!” he yells, voice sharp. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Cindy needs me more.
One of the new guys lunges, trying to intercept. I sidestep, grab his arm, and use his own momentum to spin him into the wall. His skull bounces off the brick with a sickening crack. He drops like a sack of meat.
I shove past another man reaching for me. He stumbles, off-balance, and I’m through, sprinting away.
Behind me, the fight erupts in full. Grunts. Roars. The thud of bodies hitting concrete. It’s a goddamn war zone back there.
And I leave them.
Because they can handle themselves.
But Cindy can’t.
I hit the alley, lungs burning, muscles screaming.
Then I see it.
Mack’s bike. Black Harley. Parked right where he said it’d be.
I leap on, slide the key into the ignition, twist?—
The engine roars to life like it’s been waiting for me.
Hold on, baby. I’m coming.
The tires screech as I tear out of the alley, engine howling. I weave through traffic like a man possessed. Cars honk. People shout. I don’t register any of it.
My world is narrowed to the road ahead. To the woman I love and the bastards trying to take her from me.
I push the throttle harder. Speed climbs. The city blurs into a smear of lights and metal.
Industrial gives way to residential. Then trees. Winding hills.
Our land. Our house.
Almost there.
I rocket up the gravel driveway, barely missing a row of parked cars. All sleek, shiny, too expensive to belong to anyone I know. My blood goes ice-cold when I see the black Mercedes at the top.
Must be Victoria’s.
Then I’m moving.
Off the bike. Up the porch.
Running for the house.
“Cindy!” Her name tears out of me.
No answer.
I charge through the front door. Empty. Kitchen. Empty. Living room. Empty.
Then I hear it. Voices. Coming from the backyard. From the lake.
I sprint to the back door and see all of them. A crowd of people by the water, arranged in rows of chairs. And at the front, standing slightly curled forward is my Omega. And the sight of her hand in Van’s makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down.
Something breaks inside me.
I detour to my room. My safe. The combination spins under my fingers, muscle memory, and the door opens. My gun is there, loaded and ready. I grab it.
I’m not past using it. Not anymore. Not when it comes to her.
I charge back outside, handgun raised, and I don’t hesitate. I point it at the sky and pull the trigger.
The shot cracks through the air like thunder.
Several people scream. All heads turn toward me.
Van is still holding Cindy’s hand, gripping it tightly. She turns, and I see her face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes huge and terrified and so fucking relieved to see me.
“Holt!” Her voice breaks on my name.
My heart shatters and rebuilds itself in the space of a second.
“You fucking pieces of shit,” I snarl, stalking forward. The weight of the gun feels good in my hand, solid, steady, an extension of my rage. I level it straight at Van’s chest. “You think you can kidnap us and steal our Omega? You think you walk away breathing after that?”
Van’s face drains of color. The swagger is gone; now he’s just another coward with his hands on something that isn’t his. He jerks Cindy in front of him like a human shield, fingers digging into her arms.
That’s his first mistake.
“Cindy, baby,” I say, voice low but sharp enough to cut steel. I shift my stance, feet planted, scanning the edges of the room, every shadow, every twitch of movement. “Come to me. Now.”
Van tightens his grip, yanking her closer until she gasps. That sound— her sound—snaps something deep in my chest.
Second mistake.
Cindy’s eyes flash, and before Van even realizes what’s happening, she drives her heel down hard on his foot. He yelps, tries to pull her back, but she’s already spinning to face him. Her knee rockets up between his legs, connects with a crack that makes me wince.
Van drops like a sack of bricks, clutching himself, wheezing out a pathetic, high-pitched noise.
Cindy runs.
And Victoria steps into her path.
She spreads her arms like she’s saving the damn day, face twisted in that fake concern she wears like perfume.
“Sit your ass down, Victoria,” I growl, voice dropping into that deep, dangerous register that used to make entire rooms go still. “You vile, manipulative witch. You lost every scrap of decency when you pulled this fucking circus.”
Her face blanches. She actually flinches . Then she moves aside, skirts rustling.
Cindy slams into my chest, shaking. I holster the gun long enough to drag her against me, one arm banded tight around her back, the other snapping the weapon up again toward the crowd. My pulse is a war drum in my ears.
She’s trembling. But she’s here. She’s alive. And that’s all that matters.
“Everyone,” I bark, my voice booming across the space. “Get over here on the lawn and on your knees. Now.”
Nobody moves. Just wide eyes, frozen faces, the kind of silence that comes when people realize they’re standing on a minefield.
So I fire another shot into the air.
The sound explodes like thunder. The smell of gunpowder bites the air.
“I said now !”
The spell breaks. Shoes scuff the grass. Chairs topple. People rush over and drop to their knees.
Except Victoria. She’s trembling, but she still tries to speak, clutching her pearls like that’ll save her.
“Victoria,” her husband hisses from his knees “For God’s sake, get down. Do what he says.”
“The police will be here soon,” she snaps, her voice wobbling, ignoring her husband. “You think you can threaten us with?—”
“Good,” I cut her off, voice lethal calm. “And when they get here, I’ll explain exactly how you kidnapped three men, forced an Omega into a marriage contract against her will, and let Van over there hire a fucking biker gang to do his dirty work.”
I lower the gun just enough to point it at Van, still whimpering in the grass, sweat slicking his pale face. “Pretty sure that puts you on the wrong side of the law, sweetheart .”
A few people glance toward their phones. I raise the gun again, and every single one of them freezes, hands in plain sight.
“That’s better,” I murmur. “You’re all going to stay right there on your knees. You’re going to think real hard about what happens to people who touch what’s mine.”
The words are quiet, but they hit like an explosive. The crowd collectively holds its breath.
Part of me wants to end it here. Pull the trigger. Let them see what happens when you back an Alpha into a corner and threaten his mate.
But Cindy’s hand is gripping my jacket, grounding me. Her warmth. Her scent. The tremor in her fingers.
I glance down. Her eyes are wide, wet with tears and adrenaline, but steady.
“Did they hurt you?” I ask, voice soft now.
She shakes her head, a choked sob caught between her teeth.
And in that moment, as she presses closer and my finger eases off the trigger, I know exactly how close I came to becoming the monster they think I am.
But if it means keeping her safe?—
I’d become worse.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is muffled against my chest, shaky and small but alive. “And fuck, I was just about to say ‘I do.’ Thank you so much for coming for me.”
She squeezes tighter, fingers fisting in my jacket like she’s afraid to let go. Something in my chest cracks wide open. She would’ve done it, stood up there alone, sacrificed herself just to save us. That thought cuts deeper than any blade.
Never again.
My gaze sweeps the lawn at the dozens of useless bastards still kneeling, faces pale, trembling, pretending they weren’t a part of this circus.
My pulse pounds, and my mind goes dark, sketching out every way I could make them pay.
I can see it, each lesson, each scream, each reminder of what happens when you touch what’s mine.
“You can’t kill anyone,” Cindy whispers against me, voice steady but pleading. “Please. I don’t want that because of me.”
I blink down at her. For a second, I almost laugh. “I hadn’t planned on that.”