237 AM
Skyla
It’s been way longer than two hours.
It’s pitch black outside, and has been for hours, but I’m wide awake.
We all are.
In my nest, Tadeo’s arms are wrapped around me, solid and steady, his heartbeat thudding against my back.
Every rise and fall of his chest feels deliberate, like he’s trying to breathe calm into me.
The soft cotton of his undershirt brushes my bare arm with each breath.
But it doesn’t help. My mind won’t stop racing.
Across the room, Knox and Alex stand near the bedroom door, shirtless, their skin catching the faint shimmer of my twinkle lights. They haven’t moved in hours—just listening. Watching. Waiting.
Dakota lingers near them, also bare-chested, a baseball bat resting easy on his shoulder. But I can tell through the tension in his scent that he’s anything but relaxed.
The house is too still.
Too quiet.
Why isn’t Brayden here yet?
The thought coils through my chest, hot and nauseating. I press my face into Tadeo’s chest, whispering it to myself like a lie I might start to believe.
Maybe Brayden changed his mind.
Maybe he turned around.
Maybe he’s died in a horrific car crash.
The silence feels like it’s holding its breath—heavy, waiting for something to break.
But then Knox’s head lifts, eyes snapping toward the hallway. Alex’s body goes rigid a second later, and Tadeo’s arms tighten instinctively around me. Every muscle in the room seems to lock at once.
Then I hear it too…
A faint crunch.
Glass.
From the kitchen.
My stomach drops. That’s where Alex broke the beer bottle earlier.
Knox’s scent sharpens—dark, cold smoke curling through the air. He glances at Tadeo, who nods once, a silent understanding passing between them. The young alpha reaches over the bed and clicks off the twinkle lights draped along the headboard.
The room plunges into darkness. For a moment, I can’t see anything. My eyes strain, catching only shapes and shadows until the faintest glow of moonlight drifts through the tiny window. Slowly, the outlines of my pack begin to emerge—broad shoulders, quiet movement, the steady rhythm of breath.
Another sound follows—metal scattering across the living room floor. Nails, screws, pennies, the little traps they’d spread out.
Then Knox lifts his hand, resting his fingers on the doorknob. He twists it with soundless precision and eases the door open.
The floor doesn’t even creak as he and Alex slip into the pitch-black hallway.
Dakota raises his bat, standing ready in the doorway.
No one breathes.
Every heartbeat feels too loud, too fast.
But silence doesn’t last. A sudden crash splits the quiet—something heavy slamming into the wall. Then another sound follows, sharp and guttural. A grunt. A punch. The unmistakable rhythm of fighting.
My breath catches when someone growls—low, feral—and then there’s a pained noise, half-choked.
Alex?
God, it sounds like Alex.
Dakota lifts the bat off his shoulder as he sprints out of the room, disappearing into the hall before I beg him to stop. Tadeo jerks, torn between following and staying, but his arms only tighten around me instead. His breath ghosts against my ear as he whispers,
“It’s okay, Sky,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “They’ve got this. You’re safe.”
But it doesn’t feel okay.
None of it does.
The air feels wrong—buzzing with energy that isn’t mine. Pain. Rage.
And something darker.
Pure, ugly excitement at the pain being inflicted.
Brayden is killing them. All of them!
Tadeo’s whole body jerks again—violent, involuntary—and for a split second his grip loosens. That’s all I need.
I bolt.
The blanket slips away as my bare feet hit the cold floor, then I wrench open the bedroom door. The world is pitch-black. I can’t see a thing—only shapes and sound, chaos and breath. The air is thick with rage and adrenaline.
Behind me, Tadeo trips, cursing softly. Up ahead, the living room explodes with sound—grunts, crashes, a roar that sounds too much like Knox, too much like pain.
I stumble through the hall, hands out, heart hammering as Tadeo finds his footing in the bedroom. My knees knock hard against one another as I step into the dark living room.
Moonlight spills through the crack in the sliding glass door, thin and silver, slicing the dark in uneven lines. It’s just enough to see shapes—big, shifting shadows colliding, separating, colliding again.
Bodies hit the floor with a wet thud. There’s the sound of fists connecting, a snarl that doesn’t sound human, then the low, feral rumble of an alpha’s growl vibrating through the air.
I freeze.
The scent of blood hits first—sharp and metallic, cutting through sweat and smoke. My stomach twists. Someone grunts, someone else curses, and in the tangle of movement on the floor, I catch flashes of skin, muscle, rage.
Knox’s outline looms, wide and solid, moving with brutal precision. Alex’s red hair glints as he lunges forward. A larger shape slams into him, knocking them both into the coffee table—it splinters, the sound splitting my chest in half.
“Stop!” The word bursts out of me, but it’s swallowed by the chaos. No one hears.
Another crash, another roar.
Someone slips, hits the floor hard, and groans. I think it’s Dakota. I think—God, I can’t tell.
“Please stop.” My voice comes out in a trembling whisper as the bond thrums in my mind. A dark rush of pleasure blooms where fear should be. I can feel his raw emotions, the sick joy flooding through my veins, rising higher with every grunt, every cry, every splash of blood that hits the floor.
Brayden’s excitement spikes as the scent thickens in the air—copper, salt, violence. It floods through the bond, burning me from the inside out until I can’t find the line between his joy and my horror.
I press a trembling hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
The air shifts behind me—Tadeo.
His warmth brushes close, his hand ghosting over my shoulder as if to steady me. But I refuse to go back to my nest and just wait to see how many of my mates that monster has killed.
Desperation grips me, and I lunge forward, catching myself against the wall as my foot slides through something wet.
The edge of glass—or maybe metal—bites into the bottom of my foot, pain flashing white-hot up my leg. But I don’t stop. Not until my hand slams against the light switch.
The world explodes into brightness.
For a split second, I can’t breathe. The room is a wreck. Furniture overturned. The coffee table is reduced to splinters. The screws jutting from the plywood trap are covered in blood.
In fact, blood is everywhere—smeared across the floor in streaks and handprints, even splattered up the walls.
And there—by the sliding glass door—is the rest of my pack.
At first, all I can see are their injuries.
Alex’s right eye is already swelling, the bruise darkening by the second. Blood streaks down Knox’s chest, covering the web of old scars, with one fresh gash cutting diagonally across his ribs. Dakota’s breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched tight, a cut blooming bright along his temple.
But then my gaze drops down to the alpha they all have pinned beneath them.
Brayden is on his back, snarling and spitting blood, his face bright red and straining as he tries to break free—but he can’t.
Knox is straddling Brayden’s chest with one hand fisting his shirt and the other around Brayden’s neck.
Alex has Brayden’s arms pinned over his head, while Dakota stands over them with his blood-splattered baseball bat positioned ready to swing.
Brayden keeps jerking and twisting, but the more he fights, the deeper Knox and Alex’s hold digs in.
Tadeo’s arms loop suddenly around my middle. I wait, expecting to be dragged away, but he doesn’t. He just holds me there, keeping me steady while the chaos unfolds.
Then Tadeo’s breath brushes the side of my face as he murmurs, voice low and even, “If you need to see this, you can see it.”
I look up at him, startled, but his expression is calm—grim, almost gentle.
Then his voice drops an octave. “Remember,” he says quietly, eyes locked on the fight. “There are some things you can’t ever unsee.”
“Skyla,” Brayden growls my name, voice dripping with mock affection. “There you are.”
The bond between us erupts—bright, violent, wrong—Brayden’s excitement slamming into me like a fist to the chest, hot and dizzying. It’s joy, hunger, triumph, all tangled together and spilling through my veins until I can hardly breathe.
My body trembles, muscles locking as if my own nerves can’t tell the difference between fear and his sick pleasure. He’s happy—happy to see how upset I am.
Confused and shaking, I twist in Tadeo’s hold until he’s got both arms around me, caging me against his chest. My fingers clutch his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“Why did you come here?” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Brayden’s answering growl vibrates through the air. “Because,” he spits, his voice dripping with venom, “you’re stuck in my fucking head. I can feel you all the fucking time. I feel it when you laugh, cry, tease, fuck.” His teeth flash as he snarls, “I can feel everything, and it’s bullshit!”
He tries to arch his back, twisting his arms in an effort to get free, but Knox and Alex don’t even give him an inch.
“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” The rage pouring off him is suffocating.
It crawls under my skin, thick and sharp, filling my lungs until I can barely breathe.
My body trembles, a whimper catching in my throat as I bury my face in Tadeo’s chest. His heart hammers against my cheek—steady, grounding—but it’s Knox’s bond that saves me from shattering completely.
His love floods through me, warm and fierce, pushing back the darkness pressing in from Brayden’s rage.
“I didn’t want to be rejected,” I manage, my voice breaking apart as I curl tighter into Tadeo. “I just wanted you—and Martin, and Douglas.”