In the blink of an eye, everything changes.
Alpha aggression blasts outwards, and the immediate fallout is like a bomb going off. Confusion and fear grips everyone, making the panic build to higher proportions. I whimper, unable to cope with the surging emotions of the Alphas around me. It’s triggering. So many people being so emotionally volatile, in such close proximity, sends me spiralling.
The crushing surge of their sudden and explosive emotions keeps pressing against me, and I sink to my knees. People are racing in all directions, screaming and yelling, but my awareness has tunnelled. I can barely get air in my lungs—the air is saturated by so many Alphas responding to the crisis—and it adds to the feeling I’m being choked.
I have to focus on me. The instant I do, a muffled warmth radiates deep inside. I latch on to it like it’s a lifeline, because that’s exactly what it feels like.
Near me, someone screams, but the suppressor I took makes it like I’ve got cotton balls in my ears. The medication has also taken my ability to properly scent the situation, adding to the anxiety spreading through me. I feel stupid for taking the medication, especially now. I feel a tug from my chest and my sluggish thoughts finally figure out what it is—my connection with Dominic.
His presence surges through our new bond, and it’s full of compassion, worry, encouragement, belief too. It’s also the kick in the ass I need. Awareness returns with the reassurances he continues to flood through our bond, and his strength spreads through my veins. I lean into his support and start to see things better, clearer.
The plaza is littered with injured people. My thoughts are still wildly panicked but now Dominic has managed to reconnect,reach me past the medication. I get another reminder of what’s waiting for me if I survive this—Hendrix and Ryder appear like apparitions also soothing my fraying emotions. As soon as I visualise them, I remember in vivid detail all the overlapping and complex notes that make up Hendrix’s brutal but cathartic thunderstorm scent and it shakes me to my core. Like I did with Dominic, I latch on to the strength, the protection Hendrix always evokes when he’s near. Then slowly but surely, I start to hear Ryder’s soulful voice, singing and whispering encouragement. Delusions or not, I follow his instructions exactly as he tells me—stay down low, check around you, find somewhere safe to hide. Don’t forget Nigel and Dale are with you. Can you see them?
Nigel and Dale are both crouched protectively in front of me, taking direction from members of the Fallen MC. Raney and her Alphas are gone, Heidi and her security team have left. In the distance, I can see Tristan’s blonde hair spilling out from under King. I want to race to help her but in front of us men I’ve never seen are approaching.
Dale takes a slow, purposeful step into their path, his casual stance making it seem like he’s simply going to talk with him. He takes another step, closing the distance, while Nigel moves as well—only he heads towards me. They do it a couple of times, it’s obvious what they’re doing but before the other men even say a word, Dale has raced at them like a line-backer.
I watched, stunned, as he moves like he’s dancing between the two of them. However, his movements are not graceful, they are lethal and efficient.
“You good to go, Miss Simona?” Nigel says in his usual friendly manner.
His easy-going question was a little absurd given the chaos all around us and my obvious panic. The giggle that escapes from me only makes him grin wider, but at the sametime his near nonchalant reaction is perfect. I go to him straight away.
He slips out of his plaid jacket and rests it on my shoulders before leading me away with a gentle but insistent hand on my lower back. His comfort helping me calm down even more. Even his Alpha scent is comforting. We’re not compatible partners, but I know I can trust him on some level, and I do.
“Mr. Torres arranged a jet for us. He got caught at the airport back home waiting on a pilot, but one is ready for you here. Will you be okay with Dale and me in the aircraft with you? Or would you like us to wait here until Mr. Torres gets you. He would, he said. And then Mr. Torres can get you home.”
Mr. Torres could be one of three, but they mean the same regardless of who Nigel is speaking about.
I shake my head. “I need to know my girlfriends are okay first. And then I want to go. No waiting, please. I’ll see Mr. Torres at home. It will be the quickest.”
He keeps guiding me away but pulls a phone out of his pocket. “Update.” He addresses the other person gruffly, which is completely opposite of the gentle way he is with me. Before Nigel has finished speaking on the phone, we’re rejoined by Dale. A flutter of nerves makes me lean into Nigel, but Dale either ignores or misses my slight aversion to him. He was a dick on New Year’s Eve though, so my wariness towards him has merit.
When he doesn’t try to apologize or pretend we’re ever going to get along, he actually gains my respect. So often we’re forced to be nice to people, while your instincts are screaming stay away.
Nigel notices my discomfort and adjusts his stance. I suspect he was also told by Hendrix that I asked for himpersonally, so he assumes the role of my personal guard while Dale watches us both.
As we come up to a large grey Range Rover, Nigel tells me King and the Fallen have Tristan, and she’s safe. Heidi is already on the road with her security team, and they’re headed straight to the airport. And Raney’s men, including Koz, Puck and Hayes are about to break a lot of laws to get her back.
Of course I burst into tears, knowing one of my best friends was kidnapped. I was in an okay place mentally by not focussing too much on the endless scenarios she’d get caught in. After his updates, my thoughts get swamped by my fears. Tears turn to bawling, and then all my emotions purge and I vomit. On Dale’s shoes.
Nigel rubs my back while Dale reaches through the car to grab a bottle of water. “Her Alphas will get her. They won’t be letting her go. If you’ve stopped vomiting, we need to go.”
“I’m sorry, Dale.”
“They’re shoes. No need to apologise, and honestly, it’s easier to clean off than blood so barely any harm done.”
He sounds like he’s nearly being hospitable, making me look up at him. He's got a smug look on his face. "Are you alright or should I wait for round two before I clean them off?"
I glare at him. Answer enough. But he shrugs instead of getting all defensive. The way he reacts is him to a tee, and exactly how I thought he would. It helps me settle down more though because he’s not pretending we’re friends. He’s actually giving me a way to reaffirm my faith in reading the situation right, sorting out fact from fiction.
“I’m fine. Still sorry because up chuck is gross,” I smart back softly.
“Can we go?”
I wash my mouth out and spit it next to the rear tire. Andthen instead of answering him in words, I pass him the bottle of water.
Nigel opens the door, and I get in. He follows after me and sits in the back next to me. Dale finishes cleaning his shoes before he gets in the driver’s side and then does a U-Turn, making the car screech as he speeds us away.
