Chapter 9 #2
As soon as we reach the employee-restricted area, Gabriel pulls me to a stop. “You need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I growl. “Tony’s people know who I am. They’ve connected me to you. To Micah.”
“They already knew about you both.” Gabriel straightens his cuffs, the gesture so casual it stokes my anger higher. “Your name would have come up in their research once they identified him as a target.”
“That doesn’t mean I needed to confirm it by attacking their man in public.”
“No, that was…” He pauses, choosing his words. “Impulsive.”
“Impulsive,” I repeat, the word tasting bitter. “Rich-boy code for stupid?”
Gabriel runs a hand through his hair, disheveling the perfect strands. “It’s code for human. They threatened people you care about.”
A wave of pheromones hits me, subtle at first, then stronger with the distinct scent of one Alpha trying to calm another. My nostrils flare, and I back away as the realization hits.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Heat floods my face. “You’re trying to influence me?”
Gabriel doesn’t deny it. “You need to level out before you—”
“Before I what?” I demand, anger spiking. “Before I make things worse?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I don’t need you to manage me.” I stab a finger against his chest. “I’m not some Omega you can soothe with your pheromones.”
“No, you’re an Alpha about to lose control.” The calming scent increases. “And I need you to think with a clear mind.”
The rational part of my brain recognizes his logic. The rest of me rages at the manipulative assumption that he can influence my reactions with his biochemistry. My muscles coil tight, and before I can reconsider, I launch myself at him.
My shoulder connects with his chest, driving him back into the wall with a solid thud. His breath escapes in a grunt, but his reaction time surprises me, hands already moving to deflect my next blow, body pivoting away from the wall to avoid being pinned.
I swing, aiming for his jaw. He blocks with his forearm, redirecting the force of my punch past his head. His counterstrike catches me in the ribs, hard enough to push me back without causing real damage.
“Stop this,” he orders, voice firm but not raised.
I ignore him, circling left, searching for an opening.
He mirrors my movements, hands raised in a defensive posture, feet planted.
Nothing about him matches the pampered Alpha who haunts Foundation with expensive gifts.
This Gabriel moves like someone well-trained, who understands violence on the same level I do.
I feint right, then drive forward with a combination that should land at least one hit. Instead, I find air as he sidesteps, his hand catching my wrist and using my momentum to spin me off-balance. My back hits the wall, and his forearm pins me at the chest when I would have gone for the throat.
Our faces hover inches apart, his breath warm on my skin. Another wave of pheromones washes over me, stronger this time, accompanied by a rumble from his chest. An Alpha purr. The sound vibrates through his arm into my sternum, making my legs tremble.
“Get off me,” I snarl, shoving at his hold.
He doesn’t budge. “Not until you calm down.”
“Fuck you.” I twist beneath his arm, but he adjusts his stance, using his body weight to keep me in place without triggering my claustrophobia.
The purr deepens, resonating through me. Despite my fury, my body responds to the sound, muscles loosening. The biological response infuriates me further, but each breath fills my lungs with his scent, and the fight begins to drain from my limbs.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressure easing as he senses the change. “Just breathe.”
“I’m not your—” My chest heaves as I struggle to force the words out.
“You are mine,” he counters, his purr softening but not stopping. “And I need you to calm down, at least until we can get out of here and regroup.”
An unwanted pulse of warmth travels through me, and I let my head fall back against the wall, eyes closing as I focus on regulating my breathing. The adrenaline from confronting Darrow begins to ebb, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Gabriel maintains contact, his forearm across my chest now more support than restraint. “Tell me what happened.”
Haltingly, I recount my conversation with Darrow, leaving out the details about my past but telling Gabriel he had information about my time with Micah in the group home, in case it helps keep Micah safe. The rest of it, only I need to know.
He pulls his phone from his pocket with his free hand, keeping me gently pinned as he makes a call. “Sebastian, we had a confirmed visual on Darrow at Foundation. Direct approach, photo documentation, explicit threat to our mates.”
He pauses, listening. “Yes, all of them if we don’t back off.”
The conversation snaps me back to full awareness, and I push Gabriel’s arm. This time, he lets me go, stepping back to give me space while continuing his conversation.
“Full protection detail for everyone,” he says, turning away from me. “And send a cleaner to Hector Diaz’s house. Wipe anything that could link him back to us.”
I sag against the wall, a sense of helplessness swelling inside me.
Gabriel paces as he speaks. “Put the manor on lockdown. Limit staff to only those who are loyal.”
Another pause. “No, I’m with Saint. He’s…fine.”
The hesitation draws my attention, and I study the tension in Gabriel’s jaw, the way his free hand flexes at his side. Despite his calm demeanor, he’s as keyed up as I am, but hiding it better.
He hangs up and turns to me. “So, do you want to talk to your manager? Or do you want to leave? Your choice.”
I turn toward my manager’s door, picture the fallout for escalating to violence, and turn away. “Fuck that shit. We’re out of here.”
I stride for the security staff room to grab my jacket.
If the manager fires me for leaving, so be it. I can’t stay here a second longer.
Not with this pressure building under my skin, demanding a release.