My eyes track Layne as she races through the store, still laughing at something Dante said. The door shuts, cutting off the sound of her laughter, but the effect of her happiness lingers. The look on my brother's face is evidence of that. But as soon as the door closes, Dante’s mood switches and he shuffles to stand in front of the entrance, blocking it in case anyone decides to venture inside. The dogs bookend either side of him, adding their own menace to the message.
I suspect we’re not the first Alphas, nor will we be the last, to block the entrance while our Omega is inside. The security system the shop has installed matches the needs of the clientele they draw. I know she’s fine because we all checked every inch of the place before we started shopping, but I still walk back to Dante. Just in case. Plus, I already know how trapped I’ll feel if I wait in the Escalade with Matteo.
“We should have bonded her,” I say, keeping my back to the street, so I can watch out for her inside the shop.
“No chance, Valentine. In our world, the ring on her finger and whose name she’s already taken is just as important, if not more. For sure, I want to scar her throat, but I am not stealing how special that day is from her. Fuck that.” Dante bites back hard, and fast.
I swipe a hand over my face; the urge to rush inside is getting harder to ignore the longer we wait. “I know you’re right.”
“I am. Tomorrow is nothing but an excuse to have everyone in one place, so they see they are a part of the leadership change as it happens, and any survivors get to witness Pack De Luca reclaiming our right. And, with Layne, we have the paperwork signed for her to be in our pack, she is written into our wills, and she co-owns everything with us. Layne is a De Luca in every way possible.” Dante goes on, not letting me speak. “When she tells us where she wants us to take her, so we can bond her, we will be flying to anywhere she chooses, scarring her throat, and giving her a hundred dirty memories of us fucking her sideways,” he reminds me, his conviction burning through my anxiety.
I look at him, and he’s already watching me.
It’s hard to explain how our connection works, but I need my brother. He’s the balance when I’m out of alignment, the guide when I can’t find answers. I wouldn’t be where I am if he wasn’t next to me.
“Now is not the time for you to…”
His words are drowned out by screeching tires and the sound of gunfire.
Despite a van racing toward us at incredible speed, everything in me slows down, giving me the chance to see and assess. From out of nowhere, a white van appears, its engine screaming as the van hurtles toward us. Two people sit in the front, firing at us.
Dante and I react instinctively, both of us standing shoulder to shoulder, firing into the windshield. The driver is dead beforehe’s finished driving from one side of the road to the other. When he slumps, the van careens straight into a light pole behind our Escalade.
Through the shattered windshield, I can see the passenger is hit and dying, but he’s still firing. Dante finishes him off with a shot that lands in the center of his forehead. There’s barely any time to reload before the side door of the van opens and another group streams out, all of them shooting already.
I don’t need to tell Dante to get to Layne, he’s already racing to the store. But before he can get inside, the emergency shields slam down over the doors and windows, trapping our wife inside and locking us out.
“Jesus!” Dante shouts.
“They said the back exit is the only way in and out in an emergency. Get there now!” I yell, reloading, getting ready to cover Dante as he sprints away.
Matteo is out of the car, a semi-automatic in his hand, and he’s taking care of the next wave of assailants, who all start shooting at my brother.
I run after him, giving him the cover to get away. And the dogs manage to avoid being hit while racing alongside him.
Once they disappear behind the corner, I shift focus. Matteo and I move from man to man until only one remains alive. He’s not able to move much, but we don’t need him walking. We just need answers.
Matteo reaches him before I do, and he carries him back into the van for our questioning.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughs before spitting at Matteo. And the sound of his laughter is so guttural, he gives his ethnicity away. In case we needed any other clues, when he starts threatening Matteo in broken English, his Russian accent becomes clear as day.
But that is all we needed to know.
Matteo silences him with a shot between the eyes.
We don’t say a word. Instead, we run side by side, hoping and praying the worst of it is over.
But, deep down, I know the worst is yet to come.
As soon as we race into the back alley, toward the exit door, Dante’s face says it all. His eyes are burning bright with his fury, and his breathing is exaggerated as he struggles to hold it together and not dissolve into an Alpha rage.
“She’s gone.” He yells at me.
“How the fuck did they know we were here?” I bark back at him. “Figure it out, Dante! At least give me something to work with.”
I don’t stop to check on him, I run inside to see for myself. Not even a dozen steps inside the shop, I can feel for myself that she’s not here.
