35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Leah
I try to scramble back out of the door and away from the Alphas who hauled me into the van, fingernails clawing at metal, at cloth, at any piece of the world that isn’t them.
"Omega. Drop ." One of the guards barks as me and the stupid Omega inside me obeys like I’m a well-trained mutt. I slump, useless, to the gritty floor of the van.
The stench inside is thick with sour nerves and metallic sweat.
The jacked-up, Beta-wannabe-Alpha leers down at me.
His face is a smear of every nightmare. "Stupid fucking whore. Couldn’t run even if your life depends on it.
And it does." He wedges his boot against my hip, pressing until bruises bloom.
"Look at you now. Right back where you belong. "
Every inhale shreds my throat. Panic pitches me back into the black walls of every cage I ever knew. My mind screams for my Alphas.
They said it would be safe outside but I’m not.
I’m found. I’m prey. I shouldn’t have insisted on fresh air.
Shouldn’t have guilted them into it, yet I couldn’t help myself.
My body remembers what comes next: the pain, the cold, the endless turning of keys in locks I’ll never see from the other side.
How did they find me?
How did they know?
Why do they even want me after Hardwick left me for dead?
The van’s doors slam shut, cutting off the light. Every Alpha in here is a wolf in human skin, and I’m just raw meat. The engine catches, tires shriek, and we roar into motion. Terror compresses my chest. I scrunch into the tiniest ball I can make myself, heartbeat shuddering between my teeth.
I want to break against these walls, but my body won’t obey. My Alphas are somewhere behind fighting too many of Hardwick’s hell hounds. I’ll never see them again because Hardwick knows how to cover her tracks. A hole blasts open in my chest and I bend around it.
The van careens around a corner and I’m thrown against the metal wall, hurt explodes across my shoulder, sharp and hot. The impact breaks through the barked order that pinned me down. I wiggle my fingers, free from the command. I can move of my own free will again.
I keep my muscles slack even as we hit another turn. Staying still is the one card I have left. If they don’t know I can move, maybe I’ll get a chance to run.
Each second takes me farther away from my Alphas.
I’m losing everything good that’s happened to me in such a long time.
I’ll never hear their purrs, never be held in arms that stave off all the bad things in the world, never know touch that doesn’t hurt.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, pressing every memory of their touch into the soft meat of my heart .
The Alpha in the back clings to a strap, braced for the next sharp turn, his attention only half on me. That’s right, asshole. Keep thinking I’m helpless. My shoulder slams hard enough to see a burst of white, as we careen sideways.
The driver swears as he speeds up. The fake Alpha in the passenger seat grips the overhead strap. "What’s wrong, Deacon?"
"They’re following us," Deacon spits, glancing into the mirror. "The fucking Hawthornes are right behind."
Jagged hope pierces my stomach. My Alphas are coming for me . But just as quick, fear poisons it. These men are killers. Brainwashed monsters who’ll do anything for the drugs that make them unnatural.
"Careful!" the passenger snaps as we lurch. "You wanna tip us over?"
"They’re catching up, Simon. What do you want me to do?" Deacon checks the mirror again. "They won’t back off. Not now they’ve had a taste of Omega pussy.”
Cold dread spreads through me. Simon’s eyes are flat, dead. "We’ll have to kill them. They won’t stop trying to get her back."
The brute in the back speaks up. "Drive to the Girard Bridge. We’ll push them into the river where the road divides.
They’ll never survive that drop." He smirks at me. "After that, I’ll try this Omega pussy for myself. See what the big deal is. She’s already ruined goods.
All I have to do is bark at you and you’ll scream for my cock, won’t you whore? "
Disgust rips through me, bile at the back of my throat, but I stay slack. I won’t give up my one advantage.
Deacon makes a disgruntled sound. "Wallace won’t like you taking liberties, Julius."
Julius licks his lips. "What do you think those Alphas were doing? She’s spoiled. I can scent their cum all over her. Wallace will have to change his experiments anyway."
Horror crawls up my throat. My Alphas never took anything I wasn’t ready to give and now this asshole is talking about me being worth nothing more than my gender.
If these assholes take me back, all I can look forward to is a future of violence and pain and hands I’ll never escape.
If I lose my Alphas, what’s left of me will go dark for good.
Deacon curses again, the sound cracking in the dead space between us. "They’re gaining."
Simon urges him on. "Then fucking floor it, asshole!"
The van lurches over potholes. I’m thrown against the wall, knees and elbows scraping the filthy metal. Every turn is sharper, every jolt a new bruise.
Suddenly Deacon snaps. "If you want any shot at getting your cock wet, you better deal with her goddamn Alphas, Julius!"
Julius lets out an ugly chuckle, eyes cutting to me. "You’d better be worth the trouble." With a grunt of effort, he yanks the side door open. Wind and noise explode into the van.
Horror knifes through me as he draws his gun, thumb sliding back the hammer. He leans out, feet braced against the floor, knuckles white on the frame.
He presses the trigger. The gunshot is deafening, the recoil shuddering, the sour stink of gunpowder swamps even the rot of fear. They’re shooting at my Alphas. Trying to kill them. I’m certain I’m about to watch my Alphas destroyed.
"Fuck, I missed," Julius says.
"Then fucking make sure you hit them next time," Deacon screams.
Julius squeezes off five rapid shots. Each vibration rattles my teeth, the bitter, greasy tang of gunpowder rolling over my tongue. But then an engine roars behind us. Deacon curses and swerves, and above the wail of the engine, another gunshot cracks.
A small hole appears in the middle of Julius’ forehead.
His head whips back, sneer frozen on his lips before his body tips out of the gaping door, leaving a spray of blood across Deacon and Simon.
I’m coiled on the floor, staring at the suddenly empty space where he stood, electric hope twisting so violently inside me I can hardly breathe.
"Fuck!" Simon screams.
The van swerves and I’m slammed into the ribs of the van. There’s no longer any need to pretend I’m controlled. I scramble over blood and grit to the open door. Wind tears at my hair, stinging my face, but I cling to the frame desperate for one glimpse of my Alphas.
Ronan’s van tears up behind us, engine screaming.
When our eyes meet just for that fractured second, his whole face changes from rage and fear, then to fierce hope.
His hands tighten on the wheel. Jax leans forward, shouting something lost in the shriek of wind and metal, his eyes locked on me as if he can pull me back through sheer force of will.
Gabriel’s face flashes in the rear window, frenzied determination shining.
I reach for them, arm outstretched, fingers grasping at empty air.
"Ronan!" My scream is lost in all that wind, but I see him reading my lips, see the agony in his eyes as he urges the van closer. Deacon sees it too. He jerks the wheel and I’m slung back into the van.
"They’re going to kill us if they catch us! Do something!" Simon shrieks.
Deacon’s voice is thick with panic. "What do you think I’m trying to do? We’ll be fine as long as she’s in the van. They won’t risk hurting their precious Omega."
He’s right. Ronan won’t risk crashing into us if there’s the faint possibility of hurting me. The open door is just there, freedom at my fingertips, but we’re going too fast to jump out.
Deacon’s eyes are wild. "I’ll edge them to the river, shove them straight in. That’ll finish them."
I have to do something. I’m done being a victim, done letting Alphas decide what happens to my body. I won’t let these bastards lead my Alphas. My Alphas, who’ve risked everything for me, into certain death.
I fight the roll of the van as it careens down side streets, casting around blindly, heartbeat roaring, vision streaking with fear and fury. My gaze lands on a black toolbox, kicked half under the front seat. Hope stabs through the terror. That is what I need.
I lunge, battering my knees on cold metal, hands shaking as I fumble at the latch. The van bucks, my fingers slip, but I grit my teeth and claw it open to see metal tools strewn inside .
Simon turns, eyes wide, face ugly with fear and fury. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" He raises a gun toward me.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even think. My fingers close over the heavy spanner on the top of the pile.
I grip it with both fists and swing as hard as I can, slamming metal into his temple.
The crack is sickening. Blood spatters across the dash.
His hand jerks, the gun goes off, deafening, bullet punching a new hole in the van’s roof as he crumples against the door.
"What did you do, you stupid bitch?" Deacon yanks the wheel, the van swerving so hard I lose my footing, tools skittering as I crash into the side, spine rattling with the impact.
His words are gasoline on the blaze of fury inside me. I’m done with this. Done being spoken to like less than nothing.
"What do you think I’m doing, you fuckwit? I’m fighting back." The spanner is still warm with Simon’s blood. I square my shoulders, preparing to fight for my life and for the Alphas fighting like hell for me.
Ronan’s van sweeps up beside the open side door. Close. So close, but Deacon’s fumbling with something metal.
"Fuck this. No cunt is worth my life." Deacon lifts a gun, aiming at me over his shoulder.
Blood roars in my ears. I hurl the spanner across the cab. It catches Deacon’s jaw. His head snaps sideways and the van skids over a curb. His foot slips off the accelerator, speed bleeding away.
I grab a hammer from the debris and fling it. It sails past his temple, shattering the side window. Shards of glass rain inward as cold air knifes through the van.
Deacon roars, lifts the gun again and aims at my chest, but Ronan’s van nudges forward, close enough to see fury etched onto their faces.
Ronan closes the gap, metal gnashing as he shoulders us off the road.
The sound is a monstrous, annihilating wail.
Steel shears against steel as we’re driven sideways into a building, tires shrieking, windows shattering, the whole world thrumming with the violence of Ronan’s intent.
My neck whips forward, ribs slamming against the floor when we crash to a hard, final stop .
For a second, the silence is obscene, just the hiss of struggling engine and settling glass.
I’m blinking through stars, the taste of copper thick in my mouth, when Deacon scrambles into the back of the van with me.
Before I can move, he grabs my hair and shoves me in front of him.
The muzzle of his gun presses cold and absolute against my temple. His arm bands tight across my throat.
I can hardly breathe, my vision tunneling, but my gaze is fixed on the blur of movement outside as my Alphas converge.
Deacon’s voice cracks with hysteria. "Get back! I’ll kill her! I’ll fucking kill her!"
They barrel through the door. Ronan locks his hand around Deacon’s wrist, wrenching the gun away.
Jax grabs my waist and hauls me out of Deacon’s grip, while Gabriel pins Deacon to the crumpled wall of the van.
Deacon’s finger spasms, and a shot cracks through the van.
The concussion rings through my skull. Ronan’s hand comes up, thick fingers circling Deacon’s neck, squeezing until his face mottles.
“Where were you taking our Omega?” Ronan’s voice splits with volcanic fury.
Deacon’s eyes roll, mouth moving, but only a wheeze emerges.
Ronan tightens his grip. “Tell us where you were going and I might let you rot in a cell instead of ending your sack of shit life now.”
Deacon coughs, feet scrabbling. “Get…Omega…”
Gabriel’s fist clamps over Deacon’s shoulder so hard the van shudders. “You want to live, you give us something useful.”
Deacon’s face deepens to purple under Ronan’s grip, mouth stretching in a final, silent gasp before his body sags.
“Ronan. Shit, you shouldn’t have squeezed his throat,” Jax mutters. “We needed him talking, not…”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “I wasn’t trying to kill him. Not yet.” He yanks Deacon’s jacket open to reveal a shard of metal skewering his stomach. “Fuck. He’s gone.”
Ronan shoves the body aside with a rough, final push, nothing more than dead meat and old nightmares.
In the next instant, he’s gathering me in his arms, the gentleness in his hold a jolt after all the violence.
I melt against his chest, mind swimming between relief and aftershock, his scent washing away Deacon’s stench.
"You’re safe," he breathes, voice broken and soft, forehead against mine. "You’re safe, Kitten. I’ve got you."