Warren’s hands stay up as he eases back another inch, his voice low, steady. “You don’t want to do this,” he says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, so how about we slow this down?”
Jimmy lets out a bitter, broken laugh. His shoulders hitch as he shrugs. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he says again, like it’s the only truth left in the world. “But you’ll never leave him. Will you?”
The gun lifts.
Time stretches thin and sharp. My vision tunnels.
The porch.
The gun.
Warren’s chest.
Everything lines up in a way that makes my stomach drop out from under me. My bond screams with all my alphas. Terror floods my mouth, metallic and thick, and I can’t make my lungs work right.
And then?—
A blur slams into Jimmy from the side, catching the alpha off guard.
Beck.
The beta hits him hard, all momentum and reckless courage,knocking the breath out of both of them. The gun skids across the porch with a horrible scraping sound, spinning, coming to rest near the steps.
I gasp, shock punching the air out of me.
Jimmy recovers fast. Too fast. He swings blindly and lands one solid punch to Beck’s face. The sound is sickening. Beck crumples, unconscious, before he hits the floor.
“No!” I scream, and Warren moves like a missile, launching himself at Jimmy.
My alpha drives Jimmy back and down. They hit the boards hard, bodies tangling, fists flying. I see teeth flash. Hear grunts, the wet smack of skin on skin.
The gun.
It’s right there.
Jimmy’s hand stretches out, fingers clawing for it, but Warren yanks him back, rears up, and drives his fist into the back of Jimmy’s head. Once. Twice.
I don’t think.
I run.
My bare feet slap against the porch as I snatch the gun and bolt into the grass, heart trying to tear its way out of my chest. I skid to a stop and turn, praying—please—that Warren has him.
They’re still fighting. Rolling. Straining. Right next to Beck’s still body.
I want to go to him so badly it hurts. My knees want to fold. But it’s not safe. I know it’s not safe.
Jimmy makes a vicious, animalistic sound and kicks out hard. Warren goes flying, slamming back into the wrought-iron table. His head cracks against the edge with a hollowthud.
He staggers, and pain cuts through our bond.
Blood blooms at Warren’s temple, dark and fast. Hesways, blinking, his body listing as if the ground shifts under him.
For one wonderful second, I think he’s going to turn again and fight, but instead, Warren staggers, then falls. And terror explodes inside me.
Jimmy scrambles up, his eyes wild as he looks at Warren and Beck, then turns toward me.
Our eyes lock.
