Dylan answers his phone on the first ring. "What's wrong?"
"Vincent broke in," I say, my voice surprisingly steady given the circumstances. "During Amelia's heat. We got him. He's tied up, police are on the way, but you should probably get here."
"Fuck. I'll be there in five. How's my sister?"
"Silas has her. In the bathroom off the kitchen. She's safe. He got her away from the fight." I run a hand through my hair, leaving bloody streaks I'll have to wash out later. "Fuck, Dylan, that could have been so much worse."
"But it wasn't," Dylan says firmly. "You protected her. I'm on my way."
The sirens are getting closer now, the wail of approaching police cars cutting through the afternoon air. I hear the keypad beep at the front door and then Dylan is sliding in, his eyes immediately taking in the scene. Vincent tied to a chair bleeding, Hunter standing over him looking like he wants to inflict more damage, me covered in blood and still completely naked.
"Fuck, you got him good," Dylan says, moving closer to examine Vincent's injuries.
"Not good enough," I mutter. "Hunter was ready to kill him. I don't think I've ever seen him this angry."
"Why weren't you as angry?" Dylan asks, glancing at me. "He broke into your house during my sister’s–your Omega's heat. That's grounds for murder in any Alpha court."
"I was," I say honestly. "I am. But I couldn't let Hunter kill someone. I have no idea what that would do to Amelia, seeing one of her Alphas covered in that much blood, knowing we killed her ex even if he deserved it. She's been through enough trauma. She doesn't need that image in her head."
Hunter stalks over to us, his hands still clenched into fists. "I need that fucker in a jail cell before I kill him," he says through gritted teeth. "Get him out of my house. Get him away from my Omega."
"Get the fuck in line," Dylan says darkly. "I've wanted him dead since the first time he laid hands on my sister."
The knock on the door is sharp and authoritative. I move to answer it, painfully aware that I'm still naked and covered in blood. Two police officers stand on the porch, their expressions shifting from professional to shocked when they see me.
"Uh," one of them says, his eyes darting away from my nakedness. "We got a call about a break-in?"
Hunter appears behind me, equally naked and even more blood-covered. "He interrupted our Omega's heat," he saysflatly, making no apologies for our state of undress. "So excuse the lack of clothing. The intruder is in the living room."
We lead them inside and gesture to where Vincent is slumped in the chair, conscious now and glaring at all of us with pure hatred. The officers take in the scene—the blood, the improvised restraints, Vincent's injuries. Their hands move toward their weapons instinctively.
"Did someone stab him?" one officer asks, tension in his voice.
"My sister's ex broke into her new Alphas' house during her heat," Dylan says, his voice sharp with anger. "And the first thing you ask about is his injury? My sister's fine, by the way. Thanks for asking."
The officer has the grace to look slightly chagrined. "We need to understand what happened here. There's protocol—"
"Fuck your protocol," I snap, my patience completely gone. "You should be glad the fucker is still alive. He broke into our house, violated a restraining order he probably didn’t even fucking know about, and tried to get to our Omega during her heat. Can you get him out of this fucking house or do we need to remove him ourselves? Because I promise you won't like how we do it."
The officer sighs, recognizing that pushing us further would be a mistake. He moves forward to examine Vincent's restraints. "I guess I'll return these to you later," he mutters, gesturing at the zip ties and extension cords.
"You do that," I say coldly.
We watch as the officers work to free Vincent from our makeshift restraints and transfer him to proper handcuffs. He starts cursing again the moment he can speak clearly, screaming about how this is illegal detention, how we assaulted him, how Amelia is his and we have no right to keep her from him.
Hunter takes a threatening step forward and both officers move to block him, recognizing the danger. "Sir, we need you to stay back. We've got him. He's going to jail."
"He better," Hunter growls. "Because if he gets out, if he comes anywhere near her again, I won't stop at a few knife wounds."
They finally get Vincent on his feet and start walking him toward the door. One of the officers turns back to us. "We'll need statements from all of you. Someone will be back within the hour to take your accounts of what happened. And given the injuries, there will be an investigation—"
"Fine," Hunter says shortly. "We'll give statements. But right now, we need to check on our Omega. She just went through hell because your department couldn't keep one obsessive ex away from her despite a restraining order and supposed patrol units watching the house."
The officer's jaw tightens but he doesn't argue. They leave with Vincent, his shouting fading as they get him into the patrol car. Another two officers step inside with gloves and equipment I haven't seen before. The older Alpha holds up his bag. "Just cleaning up a little so you don't have a mess to deal with later." He manages a smile, his eyes politely staying on our faces rather than dropping lower.
His counterpart isn't as subtle, Hunter letting out a little growl before stalking over to the couch and grabbing two blankets, one to wrap around his waist and the other for me.
We stay long enough for them to clean up the floor and the excess glass where Vincent broke in, the silence that follows heavy, both of us processing what just happened. The moment they leave, Hunter moves toward the bathroom off the kitchen with single-minded purpose.
