Benji
Ithought the hard part of tonight would be getting Vinny into the Stellar estate.
It wasn’t.
He, Reed, and I slipped inside without question.
No, the hard part was finding Violet.
The ballroom was suffocating.
Too bright. Too loud. Too many scents layered over each other, cologne, expensive liquor, territorial alphas puffing themselves up for dominance.
And Violet was small. So small.
It felt like searching for a needle in a haystack, except the haystack was moving and laughing and blocking my view.
Vinny and Reed weren’t having any better luck.
We’d agreed to split up. Cover more ground. Don’t draw attention. Find her first, then find each other.
It sounded smart.
Now it just felt reckless.
I pushed through clusters of men in tailored suits, muttering apologies no one heard. My eyes skimmed every dim alcove, every shadowed corner. Panic sat high in my throat. If I didn’t find her right now, I was going to lose it.
“Are you missing something?”
The smooth voice cut through the noise.
I turned too fast and nearly collided with a man in a green suit. His gaze flicked over my shoulder, assessing, then returned to my face.
I’d never seen him before.
He looked like he already knew exactly who I was.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“No,” he hummed. “You’re not.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, trying to step around him.
He shifted just enough to block me.
“My beta has located one Mr. Vincent Rossi,” he said calmly.
Shit.
“She mentioned Mr. Rossi smells like coffee and cinnamon,” he continued. “You seem to carry that scent as well.”
His head tilted slightly.
“So I’ll ask again. Are you missing something?”
My pulse roared in my ears.
“Namely,” he added softly, “an omega.”
The word hit like a punch.
“I need you to take a breath, beta,” he murmured. “We’re not particularly fond of Mr. Stellar at the moment. Describe your omega.”
“I—Do you know where Violet is?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Perhaps.” He smiled faintly. “Describe her.”
My throat tightened.
“She’s small,” I said immediately. “Dark hair. Big glasses—she probably isn’t wearing them, that doesn’t help. She’s pregnant.”
My mind flashed to the monitor at home and I swallowed hard.
“She doesn’t talk. She’s mute, not deaf. She can hear you. She signs.” I forced myself to keep going. “She has a brother here somewhere. Looks just like her.”
The man in green went very still.
“Very well,” he said. “Come with me.”
He didn’t wait for permission.
He turned and wove through the ballroom with quiet authority, people parting without realizing they had. I followed half a step behind, heart hammering.
“Vincent is not a good listener,” he said under his breath as we reached the staircase. “My beta is struggling to get him to follow her. If you could assist, that would be helpful.”
“My phone’s in the car,” I muttered, suddenly aware of how stupid that was.
He glanced at me.
“Then walk faster. You can use my husband’s.”
We climbed the stairs two at a time. By the second floor, my lungs burned.
The hallway was dark and quiet except for the sound of running water. At the end, a door stood cracked open, light spilling across the floor.
I didn’t think.
I ran.
The door slammed against the wall as I shoved it open.
And there she was.
My beautiful little doll, limp across another man’s thighs. For half a second, my brain refused to process it.
Her dress was peeled halfway down, exposing her chest. Her dark hair was soaked. The man holding her wore a white button-down and orange slacks, sleeves rolled to his elbows. One hand supported her jaw. The other pressed between her breasts.
She was completely unresponsive.
And through the bond—
Nothing.
No fear.
No pain.
That kind of silence only came from something irreversible.
The man in orange leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.
“Get off—”
His head snapped up. Long blond hair slid over his shoulder.
“She’s not breathing,” he snapped. “If I stop, she stops. If you’re going to panic, leave. If you’re bonded, get over here.”
The words cut through the red haze.
I dropped to my knees beside them so fast the tile bit into my skin.
Up close, she looked worse.
Her lips were dusky. Her lashes rested too peacefully against skin drained of color. Her chest only rose when he breathed for her.
My hands fumbled at my buttons.
“Violet refused to let one of our alphas mark her,” I said hoarsely. “Her bond’s been rotting.”
“I’d say so,” the man replied evenly. “She’s hypoxic. Autonomic response is unstable. If proximity helps, she needs direct contact.”
I shrugged out of my shirt and tossed it aside. The tile burned cold against my knees as I moved closer.
“Support her neck,” he instructed. “It’ll open her airway.”
He shifted back enough for me to slide behind her. I pulled Violet against my bare chest, one arm around her ribs, the other cradling her jaw.
Her skin was damp. Too cool.
She didn’t fit against me the way she used to.
In two weeks, Logan had stolen everything from her.
“Munequita,” I whispered against her temple, blinking hard. “It’s me.”
Nothing.
“Come on,” I breathed, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m here. Vinny’s here too, he’ll—” I glanced up. “Can I borrow your phone?”
Vinny could fix this. He had to.
If I wasn’t enough, the two of us would be.
As long as he marked her, she’d be okay. Hopefully.
The man in green brushed a thumb beneath my eye, catching tears I hadn’t noticed.
“I told Opal to inform Vincent,” the man in orange said. “He’s on his way.”
He grabbed a cloth from the sink and pressed it to Violet’s forehead, wiping down her face. A faint trail of pink followed.
I froze.
“What—”
“Warm water,” he said calmly. “She’s hypothermic and hypoxic. We promised her she’d be safe. We intend to keep that promise.”
Vinny’s scent hit before his footsteps.
A second later, he appeared in the doorway.
His eyes flicked over the men first.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Vincent,” the man in green said mildly. “Nice of you to join us.”
“You could’ve just had your beta sign, Devereaux,” Vinny snapped. “You didn’t need to scare the shit out of me.”
“Fear seems appropriate,” the man replied.
Vinny’s jaw tightened.
Then he looked down.
Really looked.
At the water splashed across tile.
At the half-dressed body cradled against me.
At her face.
Confusion crossed his features first.
Then irritation.
Then–
Recognition.
His gaze traced over her damp hair. The bruise on her cheek. The swelling softening the familiar lines of her face. The unnatural curve of her stomach.
His eyes lingered on the soft cupid’s bow of her lips.
Then dropped to the ring on her left hand.
Something in me snapped and I tore the band off and flung it across the room.
What it revealed was worse.
Serena’s mark on her shoulder looked almost like a birthmark now.
Logan’s on her finger was violent. Jagged. Deep. As if he hadn’t cared whether he bit her to the bone.
My stomach flipped.
“Airway,” the man in orange reminded sharply.
Right.
I adjusted her head. He sealed his mouth over hers again, forcing her chest to rise.
Vinny covered his mouth with one hand.
“Where are her glasses?” he asked, voice breaking. “She can’t see.”
“Boss–” I started.
“Where the fuck are her glasses?” he snapped at the man in green. “My omega can’t see without them.”
His eyes had gone red at the edges.
“They’re on the counter,” the man replied calmly. “I doubt they’ll help—”
“Fuck you.” Vinny crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the thin frames, and came back just as fast.
He crouched beside us and slid them carefully onto her face.
They sat crooked against damp skin. He straightened them gently, smoothing her hair.
“You scared me, Little Lamb,” he whispered, voice thick. “Come on. Wake up so we can take you home.”
His thumb brushed her cheek, avoiding the bruise.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” he murmured. “I won’t ever do it again.”
She didn’t move.
Pheromones. She needed his scent. Without thinking, I shifted her into his arms.
She was stiff, too stiff.
When I glanced up, the Devereaux were gone.
The only proof they’d been there was an orange blazer on the tile.
Vinny cradled Violet like an infant, rocking her gently.
“I know I fucked up,” he sobbed. “Please, Violet. Just look at me.”
He pressed his forehead to hers.
“Benji,” he whispered. “Why isn’t she waking up?”
My vision blurred as my head swayed back and forth.
“Don’t tell me no,” he pleaded. “You’re her beta. You’re bonded to her. What’s wrong with her? I can fix it. I’ll do anything.”
His scent flooded the room, thick and desperate, clinging to her damp skin.
But she couldn’t breathe him in if she wasn’t breathing.
“Vinny,” I said, voice breaking. “You have to mark her. Now.”
His head jerked back.
“No,” he said, horrified. “She didn’t give me permission.”
“She can’t,” I choked. “She can’t say anything right now.”
His arms tightened around her.
“I won’t take that from her,” he whispered. “She didn’t want me to mark her. If I do, I’m no better than him.”
“Her bond is rotting,” I said. “If you don’t mark her, she will die.”
If she hadn’t already.
He lifted her hand and stared at Logan’s mark. He kissed each of her fingers carefully.
“If I mark her, she’ll hate me,” he whispered. “If I don’t, she dies.”
His fear flooded through our bond.
“I can’t do this again,” Vinny whispered.
Not to me, but to whatever god he didn’t believe in anymore.
“She’s cold,” he choked. “Benji, she’s so fucking cold.”
“I know.”
He pressed his mouth to her temple.
“I won’t survive this twice,” he admitted.
The honesty nearly broke me.
His fingers brushed Logan’s jagged mark one last time.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
And before he could stop himself, Vinny sank his teeth into her wrist.
I wanted magic.
I wanted light.
I wanted her to gasp and sit up like a princess in a story.
But, nothing happened.
Vinny pulled back slowly, blood staining his lips.
“Violet, come back,” he whispered.
He pressed his forehead to her wrist, shoulders shaking.
“Please don’t leave me.”
That’s what broke me.
A wet inhale forced Violet’s chest upward.
Vinny’s head snapped up, hope flaring so violently it hurt to look at.
“Violet?” he breathed.
No answer.
The bond between Vinny and me had shifted, expanded even, but there was still nothing from her.
Vinny gathered her closer, rocking, whispering apologies into her hair.
And I sat there on the cold tile, watching the space between her shallow breaths grow longer.
And, as footsteps broke the unyielding silence, I couldn’t tell if we’d saved her, or if we’d risked our lives just to find out we were too late.