Oh my god he’s not going to choke me to death, he’s going to stab me to death.
“Yes!” Rowan croaks out, trying to push himself up. “That’s what you wanted to hear, right! Put the knife away!”
“Stop moving,” Jett barks.
The command tears through Rowan’s body and he freezes. I can feel him fight against the compulsion through the half-bond we have together. He’s fighting so hard.
“As for the knife, I don’t think I will,” Jett drawls, using the back of the knife to draw the robe open and off my shoulder.
The motion reveals the white scar of my bondmark from Griffin. It burns hot. Almost scalding.
The rage I can feel through the bond from Griffin is overwhelming, in the storm of my own emotions.
Jett releases his grip on my hair at the same time he flips the blade, resting the sharp edge against my skin.
I don’t dare move. Don’t dare breathe.
He presses it ever so slightly into my skin. A whine leaves my throat at the burn. A trickle of blood drips down my collar bone, a harsh red against my pale skin.
“I should carve this fucking bondmark from your body,” he growls.
No. No, no, no. Not my bondmark.
“Don’t you dare!” Griffin roars, hiseyes wild.
All three of my alphas seize up when Jett activates their shock collars. Their roars turn strangled, before they cut off completely.
“Finally, some fucking peace and quiet. If only that stupid alarm would turn the fuck off. It’s not like there’s an actual fire,” Jett mutters.
Then I feel Jett’s hand against my body. Up the lingerie until he’s cupping my breast. I want to vomit. Just like when I vomited all over him when he tried to touch me the first time.
The world seems to slow down. Everything moves in slow motion. It sounds crazy, but it’s almost like I’m watching myself in a movie.
Everyone else is fighting.
But I’m just standing here.
Helpless.
I’ve spent my whole life helping people. It’s why I was brought here in the first place. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what makes me happy.
But as I stand here, all my mates are hurting themselves trying to help me. I’m not helping anyone by just standing here.
Maybe it’s time for me to help myself.
I notice Rowan’s hands clenched around a flash of metal.
The key.
The sight jerks me back into my body with a gasp.
I know what to do.
Or at least what I need to try.
Despite the knife at my throat, I slam my head into Jett’s nose and stomp my heel into Jett’s boot.
There’s a satisfying crunch—hopefully of Jett’s nose being broken—but I don’t have time to celebrate.
