Terror
Tansy
The second I see the gun, my hand flies to my mouth. Beck’s fingers clamp around my wrist, then he yanks me down behind the kitchen island. My heart is slamming against my ribs as fear and chaos explode inside me.
Beck presses a single finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet, then he taps wildly on his phone, sending another message to Cass.
“It’s okay, Jimmy.”
I hear Warren’s voice, and I instantly move.
I crawl to the edge of the island, my hands and knees shaking horribly. Then I peek around the corner.
The gun is still pressed firmly against Warren’s throat, both alpha’s faces inches from one another.
“Everything is good,” Warren says too softly for how loud my pulse is in my ears. “Let’s take a breath.”
He releases the front of Jimmy’s shirt, then holds them up, palms out, empty, his posture changing in a way that makes my stomach drop. It’s not surrender exactly, but more like he knows that every move he makes matters now.
“Let’s talk,” Warren says, and Jimmy’s face crumples.
It’s sudden and ugly and completely uncontained.
“Talk?” The young alpha’s eyes fill with tears, his mouth twisting as he lets out a sound that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.
“Now you want to talk?” he yells, pressing the barrel up and into the underside of Warren’s jaw.
“I hate that you made me do this.” His arm trembles as if it might give out.
“I hate that you fucking forced me to do this.”
“I know,” Warren says gently. “And I’m sorry.”
“I just wanted you to notice me,” Jimmy says, voice breaking. “That’s all. That’s all I ever wanted.”
My heartbeat rises in my throat, making my stomach churn.
Warren nods once. “I hear you,” he says. “I do. But you need to lower the gun, Jimmy.”
“No!” Jimmy snaps, tears spilling now, streaking down his flushed face. “You never hear me. You hear everyone else. You see everyone else.” He laughs again, sharp and hysterical. “I admired you, you know that? All I wanted was to make you proud.”
My bond is a screaming mess, Warren’s calm stretched razor-thin over something furious and terrified beneath it. But he doesn’t move.
“I admired you,” Jimmy says, quieter, shaking the gun as if to emphasize each word. “The way you handle things. How strong you are. The way you lead.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “You’re better than him.” He takes a breath. “So much fucking better.”
Beck’s phone buzzes softly somewhere behind me, but I don’t look back at him. I can’t take my eyes off Warren.
“Jimmy,” Warren says, still calm, still careful. “This isn’t the way to do this.”
“I love you,” Jimmy blurts.
His words land like a fucking bomb. Loud. Shattering.
My breath locks in my chest.
Warren doesn’t flinch, but something changes in his eyes. “Jimmy, I—”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Jimmy barrels on, voice climbing, unraveling.
“Cass doesn’t deserve you. He doesn't appreciate you. He doesn’t—Fuck!
You do all the work anyway, Warren. You hold everything together.
He’s weak.” Jimmy scoffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, the gun dipping for half a second before snapping back up.
“I couldn’t believe you didn’t overtake him when you had the chance. ”
My knees feel hollow. Beck squeezes my wrist again, harder, but I still can’t tear my eyes away.
“Put the gun down,” Warren says, firmer now. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I already did!” Jimmy shouts. His eyes are wild now, unfocused. “I tried to fix it. I really did. I even tried to take him out for you.”
Everything in me goes cold.
Warren’s voice drops to a whisper. “What?”
“Caleb fucked it up,” Jimmy says bitterly. “He fucking missed and shot the fucker in the knee instead. But I thought—you’d see it then. That you’d finally step up.” He laughs again, broken. “I thought you’d thank me.” He pulls in a deep breath. “You’d finally see me.”
My bond bucks violently, Warren’s control slipping just enough that it makes my vision blur. Beck’s phone buzzes again, and he lets out a muffled sniffle.
“Jimmy,” Warren says, voice strained but steady. “Put the gun down for me. Please.”
Jimmy shakes his head, tears flying. “You don’t get it. I did this because I love you. I did all of it for you.”
The gun wavers again.
I press my cheek to the cool wood of the kitchen island next to me, trying not to make a sound. But my whole body is screaming to run, to do something, to fix this. Somewhere beside me, Beck’s breathing is shallow, controlled.
Warren takes one careful step backward.
Jimmy shrieks. “Don’t move!”
Warren’s hands stay up as he eases back another inch, his voice low, steady. “You don’t want to do this,” he says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, so how about we slow this down?”
Jimmy lets out a bitter, broken laugh. His shoulders hitch as he shrugs. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he says again, like it’s the only truth left in the world. “But you’ll never leave him. Will you?”
The gun lifts.
Time stretches thin and sharp. My vision tunnels.
The porch.
The gun.
Warren’s chest.
Everything lines up in a way that makes my stomach drop out from under me. My bond screams with all my alphas. Terror floods my mouth, metallic and thick, and I can’t make my lungs work right.
And then—
A blur slams into Jimmy from the side, catching the alpha off guard.
Beck.
The beta hits him hard, all momentum and reckless courage, knocking the breath out of both of them. The gun skids across the porch with a horrible scraping sound, spinning, coming to rest near the steps.
I gasp, shock punching the air out of me.
Jimmy recovers fast. Too fast. He swings blindly and lands one solid punch to Beck’s face. The sound is sickening. Beck crumples, unconscious, before he hits the floor.
“No!” I scream, and Warren moves like a missile, launching himself at Jimmy.
My alpha drives Jimmy back and down. They hit the boards hard, bodies tangling, fists flying. I see teeth flash. Hear grunts, the wet smack of skin on skin.
The gun.
It’s right there.
Jimmy’s hand stretches out, fingers clawing for it, but Warren yanks him back, rears up, and drives his fist into the back of Jimmy’s head. Once. Twice.
I don’t think.
I run.
My bare feet slap against the porch as I snatch the gun and bolt into the grass, heart trying to tear its way out of my chest. I skid to a stop and turn, praying—please—that Warren has him.
They’re still fighting. Rolling. Straining. Right next to Beck’s still body.
I want to go to him so badly it hurts. My knees want to fold. But it’s not safe. I know it’s not safe.
Jimmy makes a vicious, animalistic sound and kicks out hard. Warren goes flying, slamming back into the wrought-iron table. His head cracks against the edge with a hollow thud.
He staggers, and pain cuts through our bond.
Blood blooms at Warren’s temple, dark and fast. He sways, blinking, his body listing as if the ground shifts under him.
For one wonderful second, I think he’s going to turn again and fight, but instead, Warren staggers, then falls. And terror explodes inside me.
Jimmy scrambles up, his eyes wild as he looks at Warren and Beck, then turns toward me.
Our eyes lock.
Fear crashes through me, full and blinding. I turn and run, gripping the gun so hard my fingers ache. Jimmy’s footsteps thunder behind me, getting closer, closer—
I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep pumping my arms and legs, not stopping until I see it.
The greenhouse.
I veer straight for the little building, lungs burning. Holding out one hand, I shove the door open and stumble inside. Then I spin to slam it shut—
Jimmy hits it like a battering ram.
The door rips free of its flimsy hinges and slams into me, knocking me flat onto the dirt.
All the air blasts out of my lungs in a sharp, brutal rush, leaving me gasping, vision sparking.
I’m dimly aware of the gun still in my hand.
I can feel its weight and the cold metal pressed into my palm, but my body won’t listen.
My chest locks up, refusing to draw breath, panic roaring louder than thought.
I know I should aim. I know I should move.
I can’t do anything except fight for air.
Jimmy’s on me.
He rips the gun away before I can even raise it, straddling my hips. And then he settles his full weight down onto my stomach. The pressure is crushing. My diaphragm locks, breath wheezing uselessly in my throat as panic spikes hot and immediate.
Every shallow gasp scrapes instead of filling; my chest fluttering under him while my vision swims.
“Shit.” Jimmy pants hard, tears streaking his face and mixing with sweat, his eyes wild and unfocused. He pauses for a second and pulls in a deep breath, as if he’s lost in his own head. “You are a fast one.” He clears his throat roughly.
My hand brushes something rough. A rock. Small. Too small. I curl it into my palm anyway. Hitting him with it wouldn’t knock him out and it would probably just make him angry, but I can’t lie here completely defenseless.
Jimmy wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “You know, I really do love him,” he says quietly. “You’re a lucky omega.” He moves slowly, lifting the gun and checking that there’s a bullet in the chamber. “This isn’t personal,” he adds, almost apologetically.
He cocks the gun.
“I need him to see me,” Jimmy says. “Without any distractions.” His gaze drops to my face. “And you’re a distraction.”
The barrel presses to my temple, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, preparing myself for the bang.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, a gentle buzzing fills my ears.
Jimmy’s body tenses on top of me, and I open my eyes.
The alpha’s eyes dart wildly, his body jerking as he tries to swat something away. “What—what the fuck—” Panic spikes in his voice.
Then my mind clears.
I hear it.
The hive.
I turn my head, and I see it. Three wooden boxes sit feet from me, with fat little bees crawling around the mouth.