“Sky.”
Knox’s voice cuts through the fog, low and steady but filled with worry. The bed dips as he sits on the edge of my nest. He’s talking again, but I can’t focus on the words until his tone sharpens. “What happened?”
Dakota answers before I can. His voice is quiet, careful. “I don’t know. She called her mom. Alex and I were in the garage.”
The room hums with tension—Knox’s power pressing heavy through the air, my heart hammering so loud it almost drowns it out. I squeeze the blankets tighter in my fists, trying not to shatter.
The sound of the front door slamming open cutsthrough the air. There’s a thud of boots on hardwood, a sharp curse. Then another crash, something heavy scraping against the wall.
Tadeo.
He barrels down the hall like a rolling boulder, slamming into doorframes in his rush to get to me. The noise makes my pulse jump painfully, but before I can sit up, he’s already in the room—wild-eyed, chest heaving.
“Skyla—”
Alex startles, his whole body jerking as he spins toward him. “What the hell—how did you even know to come home?”
Knox doesn’t look away from me. His voice cuts through the tension, calm but edged with steel. “Because I called him.”
Alex’s brow furrows. “When?—?”
“When Sky started spiraling.” Knox finally lifts his head, eyes sharp. “I felt it through our bond.” His gaze snaps to Alex, then Dakota. “At least one of you answers his fucking phone.”
Dakota flinches, guilt flashing across his face. Alex opens his mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to apologize—but the words die before they form.
“Please… don’t fight,” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear.
The sound cuts straight through the tension. Every alpha in the room goes still.
Alex’s mouth is still half open from whatever sharp retort he was about to throw back. Knox’s shoulders drop, the anger in his expression dissolving into worry. Tadeo’s hand tightens on the edge of my nest, and even Dakota—sweet, nervous Dakota—stopsfidgeting.
In an instant, all of them are focused on me. The argument, the blame, everything else disappears.
Knox speaks, his voice is soft—low and careful, the one he only ever uses for me. “Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in just close enough that I can see the concern etched between his brows. “Sweetheart…what happened?”
My throat burns. I try to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken sound.
“I—” I swallow hard, gripping the blanket tighter in my fists. “I yelled at him.”
Knox’s brows pinch, confusion flickering in his eyes. “At who?”
I shake my head, the words tangling on my tongue. “He said… he said he’d hurt them. My parents.” My voice cracks, splintering apart. “And I just—I screamed. I didn’t mean to, I just?—”
The rest of it breaks off. My chest caves inward, a sharp, trembling breath hitching through me. The room goes quiet.
Knox’s hand finally settles on my back—steady, grounding, warm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s call your parents. Just to check, all right?”
I open my mouth to tell him that Brayden is going to answer, but nothing comes out. It’s like there’s a disconnect between my mouth and my brain.
Knox’s hand slips around my back, hugging me closer as he scrolls through his contacts, his thumb moving fast, jaw locked. The moment he presses the speaker button, I feel every muscle in his body go tense beside me.
One ring. Two. Three.
Each one drills into my chest like a countdown.
“Hello?” My father’s deep voice comes through the speaker—calm, a little surprised. “Knox? Is everything all right?”
“Hey, Robert,” Knox exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry for calling out of the blue. I should’ve called you back sooner, but things have been a little crazy.”
