Chapter 13
TRISTAN
The fence hums.
It’s a low, constant sound that gets under your skin.
Ten feet of chain-link and razor wire, all of it pulsing with enough electricity to kill us.
We’ve been crouched in the dark for twenty minutes, but it feels like hours, waiting for Mason to work his magic.
Each second stretches out, thin and tight.
I need to get to her.
The ride here was its own special kind of hell. It took way too long, and my mind just kept playing the same loop. We’d be too late. It’s what we’re good at—fucking things up when it matters most. What will we find when we get there? I can’t let myself go down that road.
“The power will go out for thirty seconds,” Mason’s voice comes over the comm. “Maybe forty, if you’re lucky.”
“Not enough,” Freddie mutters, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s been doing jumping jacks and pushups while we wait. He’s trying to outrun the anxiety. A futile effort, but I guess it’s better than whatever Owen and Weller are doing.
“It has to be,” Weller snaps. His hand is clamped over the mark Bianca left.
He’s been pressing his fingers into the spot for an hour, a low hiss of air escaping his teeth with every breath.
He looks like he’s in agony. The bond is supposed to be a comfort, a connection.
On him, it looks like a wound that won’t stop bleeding.
Owen is just a statue in the dark. He’s gone somewhere else in his head, a place with no words. Everyone is losing it in their own special way.
“Power out in fifteen,” Mason warns.
We inch closer to the fence. I can feel the energy coming off it, a vibration in the air.
“Five, four, three, two—”
The hum dies. The sudden silence is jarring.
We hit the fence at once. It’s not smooth.
It’s a chaotic scramble of limbs and curses, the chain-link rattling under our weight.
Someone’s boot catches my shoulder hard.
Freddie’s elbow cracks into my ribs. Owen is already halfway up, moving with a raw intensity that leaves the rest of us looking like fools.
“Twenty seconds!”
Owen clears the razor wire and drops out of sight. I’m reaching for the top when the metal under my hands shudders. A low, deep vibration tells me we’re out of time.
“Fuck, it’s coming back!” I let go, hitting the ground and rolling away from the fence.
Weller drops a second after me. Freddie is still at the top, his shirt snagged on the barbs in three places. “Ten seconds!”
“Freddie, get down. Now!” Weller shouts, his voice urgent.
Freddie tears at the fabric, blood welling where a barb slices his arm. His sleeve is wrapped tight around the wire.
“Five sec—they’re overriding—”
Freddie rips his arm free just as the current slams back on with a loud snap. His hand is still touching the metal. The electricity hits him, and his body goes completely rigid. A choked scream is torn from his throat as he’s thrown backward. He lands in a heap on Owen’s side of the fence.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He’s on the ground, his whole body convulsing, clutching his arm to his chest.
Owen doesn’t even look back at him. He’s already scaling the nearest tree, pulling a rope from his pack as he goes. He loops it around a thick branch, knots it a few times, and tosses the end back toward us.
“Figure it out,” Owen calls down. Then the absolute maniac just drops from the tree and vanishes into the darkness.
“OWEN!” Weller bellows, but he’s gone.
Freddie pushes himself up, his movements still jerky.
“That asshole has no chill.” He tests his fingers one by one, grimacing.
“But I’m gonna go find him.” He stumbles after Owen and disappears into the night.
Our two most impulsive pack members, now running wild with no plan. This is a strategic nightmare.
“I’m going to murder them both,” Weller says through gritted teeth, already climbing the tree. I follow him up.
The branch groans when I put my weight on the rope. “This is not going to hold both of us.”
“Then we go fast.”
“Can you get the power back down?” Weller demands into the comm.
“Negative. They’ve locked me out. And shit. The system’s firing off alerts. You’ve got maybe ten minutes before every guard on site knows you’re here.”
Hand over hand, I cross above the fence. The rope stretches, and the fibers whine. Sweat makes my palms slick, but I drop down on the other side.
Weller is halfway across when a branch cracks, loud as a gunshot. He drops the last few feet, landing hard but staying upright. “Which way did they go?”
We stare into the blackness. Trees everywhere. No trail, no sound, no sign of Owen or Freddie.
“Fuck. Thousands of acres and those two idiots just ran for it.”
“The bond is telling me to go north,” Weller insists. I hope to God his magic omega-seeking compass is right because we have nothing else.
We push into the trees. The canopy is so thick it blots out the moon. We have to use flashlights, our beams cutting small holes in the darkness. Every snap of a twig makes us freeze.
“Ezra,” I breathe into the comm. “We’re in. Owen and Freddie went ahead.”
“Copy. Three vehicles just pulled up at the main entrance. You’ve got company.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.”
The wind shifts. Three alpha scents hit me. They’re thick and tinged with arrogance. They’re trying to intimidate her. It’s a disgusting display of power. Any alpha in the world knows an omega in heat isn’t getting a fair fight.
“They’re hunting her,” Weller snarls, his voice dropping low.
“Can you reach Owen?” I ask.
Weller tries. “Owen, where the fuck are you?”
Just static.
“Freddie?”
Nothing.
“Out of range or ignoring us,” I say.
“Either makes sense with those two.”
We press northwest, following Weller’s invisible pull. The comm crackles again. It’s Freddie’s voice, ragged and breathless. “Can’t talk. Following Owen. He’s fuck… he’s moving fast. Think he caught a trail.”
“A trail of what?” Weller presses.
There’s a pause.
Then Freddie’s voice comes back, filled with a dawning horror that makes my blood run cold. “Oh my God. Her scent. Guys, it’s everywhere. It’s so strong. She’s in hea—Owen!” The comm clicks off, leaving a dead, terrifying silence in its wake.
Weller stops dead, his head snapping up like he’s been shot. “He’s right,” he rasps. We keep moving, faster now, crashing through the undergrowth.
And then I smell it.
A wave of heat and sweetness and pure, undiluted Bianca smacks the fuck out of me. It’s her natural scent, light and warm, but magnified a thousand times into something deliciously her. Dark amber notes and vanilla coat my tongue. It’s desperate. It’s a fire alarm. A mating call.
She’s a siren in the night, and I could never resist her.
My knees buckle.
I catch myself on a tree, my breath leaving me in a rush. Every instinct in my body screams at me.
Find Bianca.
Claim Bianca.
Protect Bianca.
It bypasses my brain entirely, a primal command that lights up every nerve ending. The part of me that values control is screaming in protest, but the rest is already gone, lost to the biological imperative.
Weller lets out a low, guttural sound, more animal than man. He stumbles forward, following the scent like he’s being pulled on a chain. All his earlier pain is gone, replaced by a raw, feral focus that’s almost as scary as Owen’s.
Holy shit.
This is what they wanted. They threw her in here to break her, to turn her into a prize for these fuckers to claim. And the scent flooding the air is proof their sick plan is working.
In the distance, a sharp crack echoes through the trees. It sounds like a gunshot.
“Was that—”
“Move,” Weller commands, and we run faster.