Chapter Five
M y fingers fisted into the fabric of his shirt as he carried me out into the sunlight, past the crumbling remains of the Royal Theater. My heart still pounded, panic still clawed, but my body, my Omega , recognized him in a way I hadn’t expected. Like it was wired to seek him out.
Another slight tremor passed through the building as we approached an exit. Blake tensed, pulling me tighter against him as he braced in the frame, shielding me from potential falling debris. Our faces were close again, his eyes intense as they searched mine for signs of fear or pain.
"Almost there," he said softly, the words meant only for me despite the chaos around us. "I've got you Summer. I've got you."
In that moment, with dust swirling around us and the ground still unsteady beneath his feet, I believed him. That, perhaps, was the most frightening thing of all.
I froze for a long moment, reeling as I tried to process the extent of the devastation through the haze of shock. Plumes of black smoke stained the sky and caught in my throat. The metallic scent of ruptured gas lines mixed with the oily stench of churned-up asphalt. It was too much.
Blake lowered me onto a patch of cracked pavement, his hands never leaving me, his gaze sweeping over my leg.
Blood. Too much of it. I hadn’t noticed before... shock, maybe? But now the pain lanced up my thigh with every heartbeat. A jagged piece of metal had torn a gash across my calf, and I whimpered, clenching my fists to keep from screaming.
“Shit,” he muttered, and then, without hesitation, he reached for the buttons on his shirt.
In one fluid motion, he ripped the fabric wide open, revealing hard muscle and a trail of sweat slicked over skin and scars. My breath caught in my throat, but before I could even process the image, he was already tearing the shirt into strips and re-bandaging the wound.
“Hold still for me, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark velvet edged in steel.
He bound the makeshift bandage tight around my leg, his fingers pressing hard to stem the bleeding. Every brush of his skin against mine made the need worsen, the instinctual part of me responding with a treacherous hunger. My body didn’t care that I was scared or in pain. It only knew that I was an omega, injured, bleeding, and being tended to by a strong, protective alpha.
One that smelled like the forest after a rainstorm, and something just a little dangerous.
“Your ballet shoes,” he said, looking down at them.
I followed his gaze. My pointe shoes were in tatters. Taking a deep breath, I bent down. There was no way I could walk far in these, especially with the waist, seam, and wings destroyed and the box squashing my toes.
“Here,” he said, bending down. “Let me.”
I bit my lower lip, as his careful muscular hands cupped my ankle, gently untying the ribbons and pulled off my shoes.
People emerged from the ruined buildings in ones and twos, clothes torn, faces blank with shock. They moved through the streets like ghosts, some with blood streaking down their faces, others cradling broken limbs. A woman clung to a crying child, both of them covered in chalky dust.
I watched an elderly man pick his way out of a shattered cafe, the menu board still proclaiming the day's specials. He leaned heavily on a younger woman, the two of them nearly crumpling to the debris-strewn pavement before they found their balance.
Aftershocks rumbled beneath my feet, sending fresh waves of fear through the milling crowd. A section of crumbling brickwork peeled away from the upper floor with a groan and a billowing cloud of dust. It crashed to the sidewalk only feet away, shattering into a pile of flaking red shards.
We couldn't stay here, exposed amidst the teetering buildings with more collapses imminent. But the street ahead was a treacherous gauntlet of downed power lines and car-sized chunks of concrete. I eyed a clearer path through what had been a narrow alleyway, now widened by the implosion of the surrounding walls.
My breath came in short bursts as I spoke. “We have to get away from these buildings!”
“We will,” he replied, scooping me up again. “We need to go to the hospital. I need supplies.”
“Wait!” I said, remembering. He stopped.
"My friend, Maddie. She was backstage. Red hair, about this tall—" I tried to gesture but winced as pain shot through me.
"The technical crews are being evacuated through the stage door," he said. “If she were backstage, then they'll find her.” His eyes met mine, steady and certain. “But right now, you're my priority.”
The words sent another unexpected wave of warmth through me, dangerous in its comfort. I'd spent years avoiding exactly this... the protective focus of an alpha, the primal certainty that came with their attention.
He lifted me into his arms again, protectiveness rolling off him in waves. His scent was overwhelming now, commanding, stabilizing. And despite the pain and the terror, I clung to it. Clung to him .
Because somehow, this stranger... this alpha, felt like the only steady thing left in a world cracked wide open.
Blake took a wide path around a downed streetlight that sputtered and sparked. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the streets were chaos: civilians crying out, buildings cracked and leaning, debris scattered everywhere like confetti from a nightmare. We were close to breaking through to the next block, where the damage looked somewhat less severe.
And then I saw it.
Memorial Hospital.
Or what was left of it.
Half of the front facade had collapsed. The emergency department’s entrance was a mass of twisted steel and broken glass. People were being dragged out on stretchers, nurses barking orders, patients bleeding on sidewalks. The controlled order of a hospital had vanished, replaced with battlefield triage and desperation.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “It’s... gone.”
Blake’s jaw tightened. “The ED's compromised. But we’ll find a way.”
“You work here.”
“I run this place,” he said, his voice full of barely leashed fury and raw pride. “And I’ll be damned if I let this city fall apart.”
Blake’s stride never faltered as he navigated through the disarray, carrying me as though I weighed nothing. My leg burned with every movement, but I gritted my teeth, desperate to keep my composure. When we reached a clear area, he lowered me onto a stretcher. His eyes were scanning me like a machine, clinically assessing the damage while his hands were warm and sure as they worked.
Blake crouched beside me, his intense blue eyes flicking down to the blood-slicked gash in my leg. His fingers brushed over the wound gently, almost absentmindedly, as he began assessing.
“The wound’s deep,” he murmured, his tone matter-of-fact, “but it hasn’t hit any major arteries. There’s no need to chop it off.” I frowned, and he remained straight-faced.
“Huh?”
He smirked. “You’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
His gaze softened. He leaned in, pressing his palm against my forehead, checking my temperature.
I tried to breathe evenly, forcing myself to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the throbbing, burning pain in my leg. He wasn’t wrong about one thing: I didn’t feel like I was going to die. But the agony was real, and it was drowning me.
Blake stood up abruptly, his hands brushing over his hair in frustration as his eyes scanned the wreckage of the hospital.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he said, voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency. “Don’t move.”
The moment he disappeared into the debris of the ED, the pain in my leg seemed to surge, each second dragging on. Every breath felt too shallow; every heartbeat too fast.
But I kept my eyes on the spot where he’d disappeared, waiting for him to come back.
A few minutes later, a shadow appeared over me. Blake returned, carrying a small, battered medical bag. His eyes were focused, determined, but still... something was flickering behind them. A raw edge of fear for me, something unspoken that only an alpha could carry when his omega was in danger.
He crouched beside me again, eyes raking over the leg once more. His expression hardened. “I’m going to clean it up, but it’s going to hurt. I need you to hold still, okay?”
Nodding, I blinked away the haze of pain. I could handle it. I had to.
Blake took out gauze and saline, cleaning the wound with the utmost care and attention. The sting of the antiseptic made me gasp, and I couldn’t help but curl in on myself, fighting the urge to scream. He held my leg steady, his touch firm and comforting as he wiped away the blood and grime, revealing the damage to the surface. My entire body trembled from the pain and the adrenaline pumping through me.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” he said again, quieter this time, as he prepared the next step. “I’m going to numb it, and then I’ll stitch you up. You’re going to feel a sharp burn, but that’s the Lidocaine. Just breathe.”
Following his order, I forced myself to breathe, even as he injected the numbing agent around the edges of the wound. The needle slid in deep, and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. Burning with a searing intensity, it did its job. The sharp ache of the injury was dulling just enough for me to think clearly again.
Blake’s hands were all business as he set to work stitching me up, the surgical needle moving with the precision of a man who had done this countless times. When he finally finished the last stitch, he leaned back, his hand gently brushing over the side of my face, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“Alright, Summer,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you’re patched up, and you’re going to be just fine.”
I felt dizzy from the pain and the aftermath of the quake, but I could barely look at him without feeling that strange pull again. The tension simmered between us, like I could taste it in the air.
“Thank you,” I whispered, though the words felt like too little.
Blake’s gaze softened ever so slightly.
“You don’t need to thank me. We’ll get you through this.” His eyes flicked toward the chaos of the emergency scene again, a flicker of determination back in his expression. “We’ll make it out of this mess together.”
I nodded, even as a tremor ran through me, not from the pain anymore, but from the proximity of this alpha. The way he saw me, the way he’d held me through everything. Despite the world crumbling around us, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one thing in all of this that was real.
And maybe, just maybe, he was the one I needed more than I could admit.
I blinked up at Blake, my pulse still pounding in my ears, the adrenaline flooding my body, making me feel both alive and on edge. The earthquake's aftershocks pulsed through the city; however, the quake itself was not the sole source of my anxiety. It was the chaos, the overwhelming uncertainty of the moment, and the pressing urgency in my chest were.
“Who’s we ?” I asked, my voice sharp but steady. “You said, ‘We’ll get you through this.’ Who’s we?”
Blake’s lips tugged into a smile, soft and reassuring, but his eyes still carried that calculating look, always watching, always assessing.
He turned, and my gaze followed his, landing on two more alphas standing just behind him. They were watching me, their postures poised yet relaxed, like they belonged there in the middle of the chaos.
“This is Anders King,” Blake said, his voice steady as he gestured toward the taller, more solidly built alpha. “And this is Zach Hunter.”
Anders was a striking figure, with sandy blonde hair that fell just above his eyes, warm brown ones that made him seem approachable. There was a serenity about him that instantly put me at ease; his facial expressions were gentle, as if he had a natural way of easing tension simply by being present.
Zach, on the other hand, had an energy about him that was different. Lean and athletic, his black hair tousled in that effortlessly cool way that matched his confident demeanor. His striking gray eyes twinkled with an unmistakable hint of mischief, and his movements had an easy swagger, like he owned the world around him. He was dressed casually, with clothes that were stylish but still relaxed, perfect for someone who could blend into any crowd while still radiating the undeniable aura of an alpha.
They both nodded in acknowledgment, their gazes meeting mine.
"We're members of the same pack," Blake explained.
“We’re going to help with the relief efforts around the city,” Anders said. “If you want to join us, we could use all the hands we can get.”
My heart thudded hard in my chest. Not from fear, but from something sharper. Readiness.
They were all alphas. Strong. Capable. The kind of men who moved like they’d handled chaos before and didn’t flinch at the surrounding wreckage. It should’ve intimidated me. Maybe it would’ve, once. But now? There was something solid in their presence. Assured. Steady. I didn’t feel small next to them. I felt... safe .
And then Blake turned to me, that quiet intensity tightening into concern. His brow furrowed. “You should rest Summer,” he said, voice low. “You shouldn't be moving around after the shock and your injury.”
I knew that tone. Protective. Reasonable. Still, something in me bristled.
No. Not now. Not after everything. I would not be folded away, fragile and forgotten. I could still feel the adrenaline in my veins, sharp and bright. My leg ached, sure, but my mind was clear. I was clear.
I straightened, pain tugging at me like a warning I refused to heed, and smiled, cool and unwavering. “I’m fine,” I said, the words cutting clean through the tension. “And I want to help.” My gaze slid to Blake. “Besides, I’ve got a doctor right here if anything goes wrong.”
Zach let out a low laugh, eyes glinting with approval. “I like her,” he said, stepping closer with that easy swagger. “She’s got spirit. We need that.”
Anders nodded, his smile warm, matching the gentleness in his eyes. “It’s a good thing,” he said, steady as ever. “We all need to come together right now.”
Blake didn’t answer at first. He just watched me. Really watched me. His gaze was sharp, assessing... but there was something softer underneath, something approving.
Finally, he gave a quiet sigh, almost like he already knew I wouldn’t back down. “Alright,” he said. “But stay close. And if that leg acts up, you tell me. Don’t push yourself too far.”
I nodded, something fierce and alive rising in my chest. “I promise.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t just surviving. I was part of something. I was choosing.