Tadeo’s arms loop suddenly around my middle. I wait, expecting to be dragged away, but he doesn’t. He just holds me there, keeping me steady while the chaos unfolds.
Then Tadeo’s breath brushes the side of my face as he murmurs, voice low and even, “If you need to see this, you can see it.”
I look up at him, startled, but his expression is calm—grim, almost gentle.
Then his voice drops an octave. “Remember,” he says quietly, eyes locked on the fight. “There are some things you can’t ever unsee.”
“Skyla,” Brayden growls my name, voice dripping with mock affection. “There you are.”
The bond between us erupts—bright, violent, wrong—Brayden’s excitement slamming into me like a fist to the chest, hot and dizzying. It’s joy, hunger, triumph, all tangled together and spilling through my veins until I can hardly breathe.
My body trembles, muscles locking as if my own nerves can’t tell the difference between fear and his sick pleasure. He’shappy—happy to see how upset I am.
Confused and shaking, I twist in Tadeo’s hold until he’s got both arms around me, caging me against his chest. My fingers clutch his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“Why did you come here?” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Brayden’s answering growl vibrates through the air. “Because,” he spits, his voice dripping with venom, “you’re stuck in my fucking head. I canfeelyou all the fucking time. I feel it when you laugh, cry, tease, fuck.” His teeth flash as he snarls, “I can feeleverything,and it’s bullshit!”
He tries to arch his back, twisting his arms in an effort to get free, but Knox and Alex don’t even give him an inch.
“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” The rage pouring off him is suffocating.
It crawls under my skin, thick and sharp, filling my lungs until I can barely breathe. My body trembles, a whimper catching in my throat as I bury my face in Tadeo’s chest. His heart hammers against my cheek—steady, grounding—but it’s Knox’s bond that saves me from shattering completely. His love floods through me, warm and fierce, pushing back the darkness pressing in from Brayden’s rage.
“I didn’t want to be rejected,” I manage, my voice breaking apart as I curl tighter into Tadeo. “I just wanted you—and Martin, and Douglas.”
“Well, they’re fucking gone.” Brayden’s eyes burn, wild and furious. “You refused to give us what you gavethem,” he snarls, jerking his chin toward Tadeo. “These filthy fucking?—”
“Careful,” Knox cuts him off, his voice a growl so deep it shakes the walls. He presses harder on Brayden’s throat, forcing a wheeze from his lungs. “I won’t allow you to insult my pack in this house.”
Alex’s grip tightens where he’s holding Brayden down, his biceps flexing as the alpha beneath him thrashes. Dakota stands close by, shoulders tense, the baseball bat gripped tight in his hands and ready to swing if Brayden so much as twitches.
“She was mine first!” Brayden turns his head so he’s staring directly into Knox’s eyes. “I claimed her first, fucked her first, marked, licked, and knotted?—”
Alex jerks forward, his fist connects with Brayden’s face in a brutal, wet crack that echoes off the walls. Blood and spit spray from between Brayden’s teeth, splattering across the floor. The impact rattles through my bones.
For a second, there’s only silence—then Brayden laughs.
It’s not normal.
It’s raw and high-pitched, bubbling out of him between wet coughs. The sound is edged with pain and delight all at once. His bloody grin stretches wide, eyes shining with a feverish kind of joy.
“Fuck!” he wheezes, chuckling low in his throat. “I gotta hand it to you, Skyla,” he says, voice hoarse but steady. “You really fucked me up. You tortured me, twisted my head,refusedto let our bond form—then gave your whole self to the most pathetic pack I’ve ever?—”
He doesn’tfinish.
Knox’s hand shoots out, slamming against his throat with a sharp, controlled fury.
The laughter cuts off in an instant, replaced by a choked gasp and the scrape of his boots against the floor.
Brayden’s eyes roll back for half a second, blood still running from his nose, but even then—even then—he’s smiling.
“Skyla.” Dakota lowers the bat. Blood drips from the cut on his temple, trailing down the sharp line of his jaw. “How about we go back to your nest?”
Before I can answer, a sharp knock echoes from the front door, the sound cracking through the tension like a gunshot.
Knox straightens immediately, muscles coiling tight, his head snapping toward the noise. For a split second, his sweet relief slips through our bond, but it’s quickly replaced by rage when Brayden jerks violently, snapping his head toward the sound. He opens his mouth, I’m assuming to scream, but before he can make a sound, Alex grips both sides of Brayden’s face, lifts his head up, and with one fluid, brutal motion?—
