Chapter 1
Sabrina
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We’re here for Sabrina.
The ensuing silence has everyone, even the pissed off mob, turning their attention away from me and towards the three strangers. I can only imagine what’s racing through their heads, especially since several are clearly on board with the idea of simply killing the remaining Hawthornes and being done with their family once and for all. As far as they’re concerned, if I don’t have any mates, I’m up for grabs.
While it seems like mated individuals are left alone after everyone’s been officially claimed, that respect apparently doesn’t apply to these four. Reid said that their parents were sons of bitches that even they weren’t upset to see gone, so whatever damage they did to warrant being slaughtered didn’t die with them.
I’ve gone from nobody wanting me, to way too many. I’d like to go back to being invisible now, please.
“And who the fuck are you?” Bo demands, standing beside Slade to block me partially from view as the twins pull me back into the house.
Even with Emmy’s new band of merry men, Lizzie’s mates, and... mine, there’s no way that I can see this ending well. Sure, they held their own a few days ago, but we had the element of surprise on our side with me guiding Slade and Cinjin through the hallways to pick people off. Now? We’d be screwed. Supposedly, these are the cream of the crop, brought in to seduce Emmy to the dark side. I’m not really sure what makes alphas and betas different from anyone else, but I can at least figure out based on size alone that betas are built like damn tanks. And the other night? I didn’t see anyone of that stature amidst the sea of bodies.
Now there’s six against our two, if we’re counting Thane on our side. But he has no loyalty to the pack, hasn’t even been officially claimed by Emmy yet beyond verbally. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to grab her and abandon ship rather than risk any of their lives. After all, I’m not their problem, and this isn’t their fight.
Smartpeople don’t get involved. They pick self-preservation every time, and it’s why you can’t ever rely on them for help.
Unnaturally bright, orange eyes meet mine as the blonde stranger gently suggests, “Let’s take this somewhere more private, yeah? No need for an audience, much less an unsavory one like this lot. Far too stressful even for my liking, so I’d imagine you feel similarly.”
An odd sense of peace washes over me with his words, and I’m able to draw in my first deep breath since everything exploded around us. With my long exhale, the situation feels less impossible to figure a way out of, and I sink into Cinjin and Reid’s hands, leaning into them for support.
“Sabrina?” Reid murmurs in my ear.
Something about the concern in his tone nags at the fringes of my mind. Sluggishly, I attempt to reassess everything with a more critical eye despite the desire to latch onto the familiar sense of comf-Wait a minute.
Scowling, I shake my head. “I’m fine, he just voodood me.”
“What are you talking about?” they demand in tandem, but the ominous rumble coming from Slade’s chest pulls my attention forward before I can explain.
“She’s not yours to toy with,” he warns. “Leave her be.”
Cin catches on first, realizing that the stranger was pulling the same comforting mojo that Slade used to calm me down when the house was under attack. “But he didn’t touch her.”
I watch a muscle in Slade’s jaw tick, but he doesn’t comment. Biting my tongue, I rapidly put together the few pieces I have to work with. It’s an alpha trait, so we know the blonde with the Xanax voice is one. If Slade has to touch me for it to work, and this guy doesn’t...
Yep, we’re royally fucked.
“You shouldn’t be toying with her either,” the blonde easily responds with calm defiance, casually biting a hangnail.
As the tension mounts, one of the original alphas separates from the crowd, striding across the lawn towards the driveway with his small following. Malachai, I believe. “Emmeline’s made her choice, I've no business here anymore.”
Another follows suit. “Someone call me when it’s time to divvy up the property so I can throw my name in the pot.”
It breaks the spell, the others trickling away as well. When Victor and his remaining handful of men are left, we all watch with bated breath to see if he’s going to walk away too, or take the risk of trying something with only his pack to back him up.
Maddox still has a gun pressed to the alpha’s temple without an ounce of fear in his soulless eyes. I’ll admit, I was stunned when Emmy picked him; the man looks like he belongs in a biker gang instead of inside the Hawthorne mansion. I’m pretty sure the blood stains on his jacket are fresh, like he killed someone on the way over and didn’t care enough to change, showing up out of obligation rather than any sort of actual desire, but if Emmy has anything, it’s the ability to see right past the masks people wear.
Victor takes a tentative step back, and when Maddox doesn’t pull the trigger, another. Face pinched and neck red, I’m sure he’s choking on all of the insults and threats he wants to spew our way, but is wise enough to know they would get his head blown off. That look of sheer, utter loathing, though? He’s going to become as big of a threat as Stonewood, if not more so. His gaze flits from me to Emmy, raking over everyone in between so that we can see the promise of revenge in his eyes. Finally, he settles his glare on Thane, his beta that abandoned him to stand by Emmy’s side here rather than drag her back under Victor’s reign.
Only Cinjin’s arm around my waist keeps me upright when the sudden gunshot makes me jump, my injured leg threatening to give out at the painful jerk. He quickly pulls my face against his chest, spinning so that his back is facing the open doorway as another ten shots are fired in rapid succession.
Ears ringing and eyes squeezed tightly shut, I wait for the floor to open up and swallow me whole, heart sprinting out of my chest. The other day may have been a crash course introduction to my new life, and really, it’s not like violence in general freaks me out. Hell, I had to catch and kill my own dinner enough times when I was dumped in the woods as a kid, left to find my way home or die trying. But the memories from the other night are still too fresh, the terror of being hunted instead of being the hunter putting me on edge. The feeling of claws ripping my flesh to ribbons as that twisted monster tried to drag me to the grave right alongside him...
“Ssh, mon soleil, it’s alright.” Slade’s soothing voice accompanies his hand on my back, and the painful pressure in my chest instantly lessens. Not only from him working his magic, but knowing that of all of those shots, none hit him, not like the bullet that tore through his ribs the oth- “We’reallalright,” he insists more firmly, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts.
