Chapter 17 #3
Before the man can recover, Chris rotates his stance, catches the front of Beard’s jacket, and drives a controlled, vicious strike straight into the ribs. Not wild. Not sloppy. Perfectly placed. Beard folds, choking on a breath.
But Scar is already moving.
He steps wide around Chris, using the distraction to go for me. In the dimness, his outline is sharp enough to see his gloved hand stretching toward my arm.
“Come here, Omega,” he hisses, his voice cutting through the muffled noise of the crowd. “Let me show you what a real man can offer you.” He gropes himself.
My feet scramble backward on the slick ice, skates wobbling. My nails dig into the back of Chris’s jacket. Every cell in my body screams Move, but fear punches deep and makes me slower than I should be.
Scar’s fingertips are inches from me—
Then he’s gone.
Two heavy shapes slam into him from opposite sides, appearing out of the shadows so fast I barely register them before the impact.
Noel hits him low, driving his shoulder into Scar’s hips with enough force to knock the air straight out of him.
Kane strikes high, grabbing the front of Scar’s coat and using that momentum to yank him upward and sideways.
The three bodies crash into the boards so hard the metal rattles. Scar’s breath leaves him in a shocked, strangled sound as Noel drags him down to the ice, pinning him with ruthless anger, while Kane braces beside them, ready to break him in half if he tries anything.
The impact is brutal. Someone screams. The crowd surges away, bodies pressing back, skates scratching hard against the ice as people scramble to get clear.
Beard tries to push up again, fury flashing in his eyes.
Chris doesn’t warn him, just moves. His fist snaps out in a brutal, perfectly timed strike that connects squarely with Beard’s jaw. The sound is sickening, hard knuckles meeting bone with a crack that echoes across the ice.
Beard goes down like a felled tree, his whole body whipping backward before he slams flat onto the ice, arms sprawled, eyes glassy.
Chris stands over him, breathing steady, drawing me closer to him. “Stay down,” he commands, voice low enough that only Beard and I can hear. “Try getting up again and I will put you right back through the ice.”
Beard doesn’t move. Not even a twitch.
Across from us, Noel has Scar facedown on the ice, one knee grinding between his shoulder blades, hand locked on the back of his neck. Kane braces at his side, free hand fisted in Scar’s jacket, ready to drive him down again if he even breathes wrong.
The lights hum. There is a flicker, then a sudden blaze of harsh white as the system kicks back on. People wince, shielding their eyes.
“Sorry about that, folks! Little hiccup with the circuit breaker. Everything’s fine again. Enjoy your night!” the rink attendant chirps over the speakers, blissfully unaware that the ice just hosted a small war.
Everyone else is very aware.
Skaters have frozen mid-glide. People stare openly at the men on the ground, seeing blood from their noses, their heads.
And in the center of all of it, Noel and Kane each grab one of the attackers and haul them upright like they weigh nothing.
The men can barely stand, legs wobbling, breaths hitching.
Noel has a fist in the back of Scar’s jacket, dragging him like a misbehaving animal.
Kane grips Beard by the collar, nudging him forward with sharp, uncompromising shoves of his skate blades.
They don’t escort them off the rink; they remove them.
People scatter to give them space, parting like the Red Sea.
Only when the men are handed over to two wide-eyed rink security attendants does Chris turn back to me. His breathing is steady. Controlled. His hands come up immediately, sweeping over my waist, my arms, checking for bruises, checking for shaking, checking for anything out of place.
“You okay, gorgeous?” His voice is low, raw around the edges, like he hasn’t fully come down from the adrenaline.
I swallow hard, nodding. “I-I think so.” My voice comes out shaky despite the nod. “That was… terrifying. And also pretty damn impressive. You all took them down like it was nothing.”
A slow grin curves his mouth, the dangerous kind. “You have no idea how brutal it was about to get if they didn’t stay down.” He leans in, presses a kiss to my brow, soft and grounding. “No one touches you. Ever.”
His hands stay on my hips, holding me in place, steady and protective.
Behind him, Noel and Kane return across the ice with predatory calm, their blades slicing smooth arcs as if they didn’t just slam two grown men into the boards. They shoot glances at me, assessing, making sure I’m unhurt, before melting back into flanking positions around us.
My heart still thunders. My palms are still damp. But something in me settles.
Not because the danger is gone.
But because I’ve never felt safer in my life.
“I think we should go,” I whisper, because if we stay out here, I might cry, or kiss all three of them in front of an entire crowd of families and children recording us for TikTok.
Chris nods instantly, pulling me fully into his side. His arm wraps around my waist, firm and protective, like he’s putting himself between me and the whole world. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough with lingering adrenaline.
The three of them guide me off the ice. The crowd parts without question, sensing the danger still crackling off them.
We return our rental skates in silence, and when the cold night air hits my lungs outside the rink, I finally breathe again. “Thank you,” I say quietly, looking at each of them one by one. “For everything.”
Noel studies my face like he’s memorizing every detail. “We protect what’s ours,” he says softly.
Kane nods, jaw still tense. “No one gets near you while we’re around. Ever.”
Chris threads his fingers through mine, his grip warm and steady. “And you don’t thank us for doing what we were made to do. Keeping you safe isn’t a chore. It’s the easiest promise I’ll ever keep.”
The words should overwhelm me. They should feel heavy or frightening or too much too soon. Instead, something inside me loosens, like a knot pulled free after being tight for years.
We walk through the snow-dusted street toward their truck. The night is quiet now, the echo of the rink far behind us, and the only warmth in the world seems to be radiating from the three men walking beside me.
Their presence steadies the tremble still lingering in my bones.
My pulse finally slows, syncing to something calmer, deeper.
And as Noel opens the truck door for me, and Chris settles a hand at my back to help me in, and Kane stands close enough behind me that I can feel the heat of him through my coat…
It hits me. Not like a lightning bolt or a dramatic realization. More like a quiet truth finally allowed to surface. These men aren’t a threat to my independence or my identity. They’re not here to cage me or consume me.
They’re choosing me.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel the urge to choose someone back.
Not because I’m scent-matched. But because being with them feels like the most natural thing to do.
And maybe that’s the beginning of something real that doesn’t take anything away from me but gives me pieces I didn’t know I was missing.
I glance at them as the truck door closes, my heart steady for the first time all night.
I’m not falling.
I’m finally landing.