Their faces were transformed by rage so primal it made them unrecognizable. Kade's expression held murder, his eyes gone dark and feral. Theo moved like violence personified, everymuscle coiled for destruction. Lucian's normally warm features had twisted into something cold and lethal.
Their combined scents battered the air; oak, leather, and rosewood obliterating the sour stink of my captors. All of them amplified by Alpha fury, by protective instinct gone nuclear, by the scent of my blood in the air, triggering every biological imperative to destroy threats to their Omega.
Kade reached the pack members first, moving with a speed that seemed impossible. His fist connected with the younger one's face with a force that snapped the man's head back at an angle necks weren't meant to bend. I heard bone crack, saw the body crumple, and knew with absolute certainty that he was dead before he hit the ground.
Theo went for the older one, the one who'd held the knife. The blade was still in me, abandoned when my Alpha's appearance had sent him scrambling backward. But Theo caught him before he'd made it three steps. His hands found the man's head, twisted with brutal efficiency, and another body fell lifeless to the alley floor.
They moved through the pack members like death given form. No hesitation. No mercy. Just swift, absolute violence that left bodies in their wake. The sounds of impact echoed off the alley walls—fists on flesh, bones breaking, strangled gasps cut short. It should have terrified me, watching them kill with such efficiency. Instead, I felt relief so profound it made the remaining consciousness I had waver.
They'd come. They'd found me. They were here.
Bane tried to run. I saw him in my peripheral vision, bolting toward the far end of the alley where the streetlight created a pool of golden illumination. But Theo was faster, covering the distance and catching him before he'd made it halfway.
What happened next, I couldn't see clearly. My vision was fading too fast, darkness creeping in from all sides. But I heardBane's scream cut short. Heard a wet sound that made my stomach turn, even through the agony. Heard silence fall where his diesel scent had been strongest.
Then Lucian was there, dropping to his knees beside me with such a force that it must have hurt. His hands hovered over my body, trembling, his face twisted with anguish that cut through my fading consciousness.
“Jasmine,” he gasped, and his voice cracked on my name. “Oh god, Jasmine, stay with me. Please stay with me.”
His hands moved to the knife still buried in my abdomen, and I watched his face go white as he registered how deep it was, how much blood surrounded it. His rosewood scent wrapped around me, trying to comfort, trying to reach past the pain and terror to something safe underneath.
“I've got you,” he whispered, and one hand cupped my face with a gentleness that contrasted horrifically with the violence that had just occurred. “I've got you now. You're safe. We're here.”
He slid his arms beneath me, cradling me against his chest as he lifted. The movement jostled the knife, sending fresh waves of agony radiating from the wound, and the whimper that escaped my throat sounded barely human. But Lucian held me steady, supporting my weight as if I were made of glass, his arms gentle despite their strength.
His heartbeat thundered against my cheek. Fast, frantic, and alive, so alive compared to the growing numbness spreading through my body. I felt his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, felt the tremor running through him that might have been rage or fear or both.
He was talking. I could feel his voice rumbling through his chest, could hear the sound even if I couldn't process the meaning anymore. My name, probably. Reassurances that we were going somewhere safe, that I'd be okay, that everythingwould be fine. Words meant to comfort, even though we both knew I was dying.
The alley tilted as he carried me toward the service door. Or maybe it was my consciousness tilting, the world rotating around an axis that kept shifting. I couldn't tell anymore. Couldn't distinguish between actual movement and my brain shutting down system by system.
Lucian's arms tightened around me, his grip possessive and protective. His rosewood scent intensified, trying to push past the diesel and blood and death, trying to remind my body what safety smelled like.
The darkness was winning now, creeping in faster than I could fight it. My working eye wanted to close, and keeping it open took an effort I didn't have anymore. Lucian's face swam in and out of focus above me, his ocean-colored eyes bright with unshed tears.
I tried to tell him it was okay. Tried to say thank you, or I'm sorry, or maybe just his name. But my voice wouldn't work, my throat still damaged from being choked, and nothing came out except a small, broken sound.
His arms tightened even more, and I felt him move faster. Toward the door. Toward the warmth and light beyond. Toward safety that had come too late to prevent this, but might still be in time to save what was left.
The last thing I registered before consciousness fled completely was his heartbeat against my cheek. Strong and steady and alive. A rhythm that promised if I could just hold on, just stay present a little longer, maybe everything would be okay.
Then the darkness took me, and I knew nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-six
Theo
I'd been watching her breathe night after night, counting each rise and fall of her chest like a man counting his last coins. The monitors beeped their steady rhythm beside her bed, and every fucking beep was a gift I didn't deserve. Her hands clutched the thin hospital blanket, even in sleep, and the trembling hadn't stopped since they'd brought her in. Bruises bloomed across her face in shades of purple and yellow that made my jaw clench so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
The swelling around her right eye had started to ease, but the skin was still discolored, puffy, and plain wrong. I cataloged every injury like penance—the bandaged wound on her abdomen where that bastard had buried a knife, the IV in her arm pumping fluids and antibiotics, the paleness of her skin that should have been vibrant and warm. Each mark was a failure on my part, on all our parts, to keep her safe.
Kade sat in the chair on the other side of the bed, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if it were directed at me. Lucian stood near the window, his arms crossed, his rosewood scent subdued but present. We'd been taking turns like this since they'd finished surgery, none of us willing to leave her alone.
My hands were still bruised from the violence in that alley. I could still feel the way Bane's neck had given way under my grip, the satisfying crack that meant he'd never hurt anyone again. No regrets. Not a single fucking one. They'd been dead men the moment they'd laid hands on her; the moment they'd made her bleed. The only thing I regretted was not making it last longer.
A small sound pulled my attention back to the bed. Jasmine's fingers twitched against the blanket, and her breathing pattern changed. I was on my feet before I'd consciously decided to move, leaning over the bed rail, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Jasmine?” My voice came out rough, after hours of silence. “Honey, can you hear me?”
