Chapter Eight #2
Fallon kneels, drags the flat of her blade up his chest with agonizing slowness. “I’ll start with your toes,” she purrs. “Nice and slow. See how long it takes before you scream.”
He swallows hard.
“I’m serious,” I add, stepping closer. “You want to be a tough guy? Fine. But I’ve been through worse, and so has she. You don’t scare us. In fact, you’ve pissed us off.”
Fallon glances up at me, eyes alight with barely contained fury. “You wanted helpless omegas?”
I lean in, blood-splattered cheek to his. “Too fucking bad.”
Fox
May 26th
12:40 P.M
The tension in Rosetti’s living room is thick enough to choke on.
We’re all gathered around Romano’s computer and tablet, which he has set up.
The place usually has an air of easy-going chaos—comfortable leather furniture, Fallon’s plants tucked into corners, and pictures scattered around—but right now, it feels more like a command center ready for war.
Romano, usually annoyingly cheerful, is hunched forward in his chair, eyes glued to one of his screens.
Dark circles beneath his eyes make it clear he hasn’t rested since Fallon’s distress signal went off.
He adjusts his wire-framed glasses, blowing out a frustrated breath as his messy black hair falls into his face.
“Got a lock on them,” he announces, voice strained but firm. “I swear after this, I’m putting a tracker directly on Fallon’s ass.”
Voss lets out a low growl of agreement from where he’s pacing restlessly behind the couch, radiating barely-contained fury.
Jace and Kingston exchange brief glances filled with grim understanding.
I know exactly how they feel—Violet’s absence has left a hollow, aching space in my chest. The longer she’s out of reach, the closer I am to snapping.
Romano scribbles something quickly onto a scrap of paper before standing up and shoving it roughly into my hand. I glance down, my pulse quickening at the sight of an address—finally, something solid, a place to direct our rage.
“I’d say let’s ride together,” Romano says dryly, meeting my gaze knowingly, “but I’m pretty sure none of us have the patience to get our omegas alone.”
He’s right. Patience vanished the moment we realized our mates were in danger—again. I nod sharply, feeling a familiar surge of protective fury tightening my chest. “We’ll meet you there.”
Romano’s lips twitch into a faint, grim smile. “Good. Try not to leave too much of a mess.”
“No promises,” Dare growls beside me, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His usually calm, measured demeanor is entirely replaced by a lethal determination I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Let’s go,” Jex says sharply, already striding toward the door, impatience and urgency vibrating off him like a physical force.
I pocket the address and move quickly after him, my heart pounding, my mind already fixated on one goal—getting Violet back safe, no matter what the cost.
Violet
May 26th
1:02 P.M
The man scoffs weakly, his voice laced with shaky defiance. “You’re just a couple omegas. What the fuck can you do to me?”
Fallon freezes mid-step, the corners of her mouth curling into something venomously sweet as she leans in, pressing the tip of her blade beneath his chin. Not enough to draw blood— yet —but enough to make him feel it. Her smile is all teeth, and her tone is pure honey-laced poison.
“Oh, sweetie,” she croons, “you really haven’t done your homework, have you?”
I stalk forward, my steps slow, deliberate. The soft thud of my boots on the floor echoes like a countdown. I tilt my head, studying him the way I might examine a bug I haven’t quite decided whether to squash or dissect.
“Let’s try this again,” I say quietly. “Who sent you? And more importantly…” I crouch down until we’re face to face, my eyes locked on his, “Were you here for me or her ?”
His jaw tightens, mouth stubbornly clamped shut. The flicker in his gaze tells me he’s afraid—just not enough yet.
Fallon sighs, dramatically disappointed, and pushes the knife a fraction deeper until a thin, crimson bead slides slowly down his throat. “You’re not very good at this,” she mutters. “I expected more. At least some creative cursing or a fake name.”
“You’re going to get yourselves killed,” he hisses, though his voice cracks.
Fallon hums pleasantly. “Maybe. But you first.”
I step around him, trailing my fingers along the back of the chair he’s bound to, circling like a predator sizing up its next move. “Were you sent for her pack or mine?”
That gets a reaction.
His mouth twitches—an involuntary slip.
Still, he sneers. “You think I’m scared of your packs? A bunch of weak alphas playing house—”
Fallon interrupts, her voice light as air. “My mates are the Rosetti pack.”
The effect is immediate.
His body jolts, breath catching audibly in his throat. He pales, visibly, the color draining from his face like someone pulled the plug. His bravado dies a swift, pathetic death. The kind of fear that only comes from knowing just how royally you’ve fucked up blooms across his expression.
I exchange a look with Fallon and then lean down again, my tone soft and cutting. “Ohhh, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s wrong, tough guy? Thought we were just some easy marks?”
His eyes flick between us, panicked. “No one said anything about Rosetti. They said it’d be simple. Just two omegas with minor affiliations—”
Fallon lets out a bark of laughter, cold and vicious. “ Minor ? Baby, my alphas once wiped a whole house clean in under seven minutes just because someone looked at me wrong.”
I grin slowly, crouching beside him again and watching his skin go clammy. “And mine? Well… they already lost me once. They’re not the type to let that shit slide a second time.”
Fallon twirls her blade absentmindedly, like she’s deciding which part of him she’d like to carve into next. “So, let’s be honest. How long do you think you have before they find you? Before someone with actual power kicks down that door and turns you into a blood smear on the floor?”
“Minutes,” I murmur. “If you’re lucky.”
His chest heaves. Sweat beads along his temple. I can see the moment panic truly sets in. His mouth opens, then closes again, like he can’t decide if staying silent is worth dying for.
Fallon leans in, pressing the blade flat to his cheek. “Tick-tock, sweetheart. We’re not your biggest problem anymore. But we can still make you bleed if you waste our time.”
He gulps audibly, eyes darting to the door. Hope and fear, fighting for control.
Too late.
We’re already in control.
“There’s just something about making a grown alpha fear you.” I take a deep inhale, like I can smell his fear, before grinning at him. “Delicious”
Sweat beads down his forehead, panic overtaking any semblance of arrogance he had left. “Look, I don’t know anything, okay? I was just hired to grab both of you. Someone higher-up wanted leverage on your packs, that’s all I know!”
“Leverage for what?” I ask sharply, narrowing my eyes at him. My gut twists uncomfortably. The thought of our mates being targeted because of us makes anger flare hot beneath my skin.
“I don’t fucking know,” he snarls, though his voice cracks with nerves. “They don’t tell us shit. We were just supposed to hold you somewhere else—move you tomorrow morning. After that, someone else was taking over.”
“Who?” Fallon demands, pressing harder with the knife, clearly losing patience. “Who hired you?”
He shakes his head frantically. “They never gave us names. Just paid in cash—no questions. All I know is the guy we dealt with is dangerous—he said if we fucked up, we wouldn’t get a second chance.”
I exchange a look with Fallon, a sense of unease settling in my gut. This isn’t just random—it’s coordinated, calculated. Someone wants to hurt our packs. Someone powerful enough that even hired guns like this are terrified to cross them.
“Where were you supposed to move us?” Fallon asks quietly, her eyes cold and sharp.
“I don’t—” He hesitates, clearly torn, then finally relents, voice breaking. “A warehouse on the outskirts, near the old docks. The meeting was supposed to happen there tomorrow night. That’s all I fucking know, I swear.”
Fallon studies him coldly before finally pulling her knife back, leaving him slumped in relief. She steps back beside me, her voice barely above a whisper. “We need to warn the guys.”
I nod tightly. “Fast.”
Because whoever orchestrated this isn’t finished—and it feels like things are about to get a whole lot worse.
“Fox did say their previous employer was pretty pissed they helped your pack during the rescue,” I murmur thoughtfully, glancing at Fallon as we both try to piece together who could be behind this. The whole situation feels too organized, too deliberate.
“Wait—” The man suddenly jerks upright in his chair, eyes going wide as his terrified gaze snaps to me. “You’re Fox’s mate?”
I slowly turn my head toward him, eyebrows raised in irritation. “Rude to interrupt, but yes, I’m Fox’s mate.”
“Shit.” He goes pale, color draining rapidly from his face. His voice shakes with barely controlled panic as he flicks a frantic glance between Fallon and me. “Fox’s pack is involved in this? Those guys are fucking lethal. Nobody told us—Fuck! I’m guessing there’s no chance of mercy?”