Chapter 28 Amelia
Amelia
Five minutes earlier, I was sitting on the bench just outside the station, my hands still shaking from signing those papers and the panic attack that followed. My mind was replaying every word the officer said about Vincent and protection and how likely this was all to fail.
And then, my phone buzzed with a text notification.
It was from the pharmacy across the street, letting me know my suppressants prescription was ready for pickup.
The ones I'd been meaning to refill for weeks but kept forgetting about because everything had been so chaotic.
Not that they'd do much good now with my heat already starting, but having them felt important.
Like maintaining some semblance of control over my own body.
I looked across the street at the pharmacy, the bright green cross sign visible even from here.
It was right there. Literally just across the street, maybe a two-minute walk.
Hunter had said to wait on the bench, but he'd also said he'd just be a few minutes and it had already been longer than that.
So, stupidly, I decided to take the short walk, needing something to do to get my mind off things.
The pharmacy was cool when I walked in, the familiar scent of antiseptic and air conditioning immediately calming some of my frayed nerves. Normal. This was normal. Just picking up medicine like a functional adult.
I stood in line behind an elderly woman who was arguing with the pharmacist about insurance coverage, my mind wandering to everything except where I actually was.
The restraining order. Vincent's face in the photos Dylan had shown me weeks ago.
The way Hunter's hands had trembled when he'd kissed me goodbye.
The approaching heat that I could feel simmering just under my skin, making everything feel too sensitive, too much.
When it was finally my turn, I gave them my name and birthday, paid, and took the small paper bag they handed me. The pharmacist was saying something about dosage instructions, but I wasn't really listening. I just wanted to get back to the bench, back to Hunter, back to safety.
I turned to leave, the bag clutched against my chest, and that's when I heard it.
"Amelia."
My name, spoken in a voice I'd know anywhere. A voice that haunts my nightmares and makes my stomach drop with terror even in broad daylight.
Vincent.
My entire body runs cold, every instinct screaming at me to run, to get away, to put as much distance as possible between me and the man who spent two years destroying me piece by piece. I force myself to turn, to look, praying I'm wrong, praying it's not really him.
But it is.
Vincent is standing near the pharmacy entrance, blocking the most direct path to the door.
He's wearing his police uniform, looking every bit the respectable officer of the law that everyone thinks he is.
His dark hair is neatly trimmed, his badge gleaming on his chest, his expression one of concern that would fool anyone who doesn't know the monster underneath.
"Amelia," he says again, taking a step toward me. "Thank god. I've been so worried about you."
I don't respond. My throat has closed up with terror, my legs already moving on instinct before my brain fully processes the decision to run.
I head for the door, moving as fast as I can without actually running, trying not to draw attention, trying to blend in with the other customers milling around.
"Wait, please," Vincent calls after me, his voice pitched to sound concerned rather than threatening. "I just want to talk. I need to make sure you're okay."
I'm through the door and out on the sidewalk, the bright afternoon sun momentarily blinding me. The crosswalk is right there, the police station visible on the other side of the street. So close. I just need to get across the street and I'll be safe.
But there are cars coming, a steady stream of afternoon traffic that makes crossing impossible without waiting. I stand at the edge of the curb, bouncing on my toes with nervous energy, watching the cars pass, counting seconds, praying the traffic will clear before Vincent catches up to me.
I glance back and see him exiting the pharmacy, his eyes locked on me. He's moving faster now, not bothering to maintain the concerned citizen act anymore. Just pure determination written across his face.
I can't wait. I can't stand here and let him catch me.
The terror is overwhelming, making rational thought impossible, and without thinking I take a sharp left and start running.
Not toward the police station, not toward safety, but just away.
Away from Vincent, away from the threat, running on pure survival instinct.
I'm crying, I realize, tears streaming down my face and making everything blurry.
My phone is in my hand somehow, I don't remember pulling it out, but I'm trying to hit redial for the last number while running.
The screen is hard to see through my tears, my hands shaking too badly to hit the right buttons.
"Amelia, stop!" Vincent's voice behind me, too close. "You're being ridiculous. I just want to talk!"
I finally get my phone to cooperate, pressing redial and bringing it to my ear while I run. It rings once, twice, three times. Please answer, please answer, please answer. But it goes to voicemail, Hunter's voice telling me to leave a message, and I want to sob with frustration and fear.
I take a sharp turn down an alleyway between two buildings, my shoes slapping against concrete, the medicine bag still clutched in one hand.
The alley is narrow and dark, smelling like garbage and old water, but it opens onto another street.
I can lose him if I'm fast enough, if I can just keep moving.
"Running from me won't change anything!" Vincent yells, his footsteps echoing behind me. "You're mine, Amelia. You've always been mine. Whatever those Alphas have been telling you, it's lies. They don't really want you. Nobody wants you except me!"
The words are designed to hurt, to make me doubt, but right now all they do is fuel my terror.
I burst out of the alley onto a residential street I don't recognize, lined with small houses and overgrown yards.
I cut through someone's yard, jumping a low fence, running through another alley, taking turns randomly, just trying to get away.
I'm completely lost now, I realize with dawning horror. I don't know where I am, don't know how to get back to the police station. The neighborhood is unfamiliar, the streets all looking the same, and I'm getting more disoriented with every turn I take.
The heat building in my belly is getting worse, making everything harder.
My skin feels too tight, too hot, my body demanding things I can't give it right now.
I need my Alphas, need their scents and their touch and their reassurance that I'm safe.
But they're not here, and I don't know how to get to them.
My phone starts ringing in my hand, the vibration making me jump. Hunter's name lights up the screen and I answer it immediately, pressing it to my ear with shaking hands.
"Hunter," I gasp out, my voice broken with tears and exertion. "I don't know where I am."
"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Hunter's voice is tight with controlled panic. "Amelia, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened?"
The scent match between us pulses with his emotions. Even at a distance, I can feel him through whatever connection is forming between us. Anger, terror, protectiveness, all flooding through me.
"What do you see?" Hunter asks, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Tell me what's around you."
I'm standing on a corner, catching my breath, looking around frantically for Vincent. I don't see him, but that doesn't mean he's not close. "Houses," I manage between gasps. "Small ones. A lot of trees. There's a... a blue mailbox. And a stop sign."
"Okay, that's good. Keep talking to me. Why did you leave the bench?"
"I saw Vincent," I sob, the words tumbling out. "At the pharmacy. I just wanted to get my medicine. You said to stay but it was right across the street and I thought I'd be quick and then he was there and I ran and now I don't know where I am."
"No, shhhh," Hunter's voice is gentle despite the urgency I can hear underneath. "You're perfectly fine. This is not your problem. You did exactly what you should have done. Running was smart."
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, guilt mixing with the terror. "I should have waited, I should have listened, I should have—"
"Stop. You did nothing wrong. I have your location because you shared it with Silas, remember?
I might have swiped it." There's a hint of dark humor in his voice, trying to lighten the moment.
"We're only about five minutes away. Dylan's with me.
We're going to come get you and take you home. Can you hold on for us, baby?"
"Hurry," I plead, looking around nervously. Every shadow feels like Vincent, every sound like his footsteps. "I don't want him to get to me. Please hurry."
"We're coming as fast as we can. Find somewhere to wait, somewhere you can see the street but that has cover. Behind a car or near a building. And stay on the phone with me."
I spot a large oak tree in someone's front yard, its trunk wide enough to hide behind. I move toward it, pressing my back against the rough bark, trying to make myself as small as possible. My breathing is coming in harsh gasps, hyperventilating despite my best efforts to calm down.
"That's it," Hunter soothes, somehow knowing what I'm doing. "Deep breaths. You're doing so good, sweetheart. We're almost there."
The heat is getting worse, making my skin feel like it's burning from the inside out. My body wants things I can't give it, wants my Alphas close and safe and surrounding me. The timing couldn't be worse, my heat choosing this moment of terror to accelerate.
Then I smell it. Pine and smoke and Alpha, cutting through my panic like a lifeline. Hunter.
I peek around the tree and see Dylan's truck coming down the street, moving faster than is probably safe in a residential area. I rush out from behind the tree, stumbling in my desperation to get to them. The truck barely stops before Hunter is out of the passenger side, running toward me.
I crash into him, my arms wrapping around his neck, and he lifts me up like I weigh nothing. His scent surrounds me, grounding me, making everything feel less terrifying. I'm trembling violently against him, my whole body shaking with aftershocks of terror and the building heat.
"I've got you," he murmurs into my hair. "You're safe now. I've got you."
Dylan is there too, his hand on my back, his Beta scent mixing with Hunter's Alpha. "You okay, sis?"
"My heat's starting," I manage between sobs. "And Vincent was right there, Dylan. He was so close. I could have... he could have..."
"Let me take care of Vincent while your Alphas take care of you, alright?" Dylan's voice takes on a determined tone. "You focus on getting through your heat safely. I'll make sure he doesn't get anywhere near you."
"I thought we had more time," Hunter says, his voice rough with concern. "We need to get you home, get you into your nest—"
"And that's what I'm here for," Dylan interrupts. "You sit in the back with her. I'll drive. Then Maddox and I will handle everything else—Vincent, the police, all of it. The kids are already with us, remember? Everything's going to be fine."
He starts moving, guiding us both toward where his truck is idling in the middle of the street.
Hunter climbs in the back seat, pulling me into his lap, surrounding me with his presence.
Dylan gets in the driver's seat and immediately starts the truck, heading back toward what I assume is the direction of home.
"Sis," Dylan says, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror. "You're going to be okay, I promise you that. Vincent isn't going to touch you. Your Alphas will keep you safe during your heat, and Maddox and I will make sure he can't get anywhere near your pack. Okay?"
I nod, burying my face in Hunter's neck, breathing in his scent. The connection between us pulses with reassurance, with protection, with safety. I can feel Silas and Wyatt too through the scent match, their concern bleeding through even at a distance.
"Okay," I whisper. "Okay."