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He shot Demi. He. Fucking.Shot. Her.
My fist punctuated each word, each thought, until my knuckles were bloody, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldneverbe enough.
Through the craze of white-hot wrath, I heard Leo murmuring to Demi.
“Open your eyes for me, Honey. Fight. Please, Demi. Fight.”
Beneath me, Anton wheezed, his face an unrecognizable, pulverized mess. Despite my size and overall appearance, I wasn’t violent by nature, but there wasn’t an iota in me that felt remorse for beating the ever-loving shit out of this man. He’d hurt Demi. Repeatedly. He’d drugged her, raped her, beat her, tried to fuckingsellher.
And that only covered the basics.
Demi had lived through a world of emotional abuse we’d only tapped the surface of, and all her suffering traced back to the worthless pile of shit lying on the asphalt, groaning as he rolled to the side to nurse his injuries.
I seethed above him, clenching and unclenching my fists as I tempered the desire to end him. The world would undoubtedly be a better place without him in it, but I wasn’t a killer.
I leaned back on my heels as Lawson reached my side. A large hand landed on my shoulder and brought me out of my head, grounding me in the present.
“I’ve got him,” he vowed. “Go. Your Omega needs you.”
I staggered to my feet, noting Jamison subduing Reed with his arms wrenched behind his back while Knox dolled out his own brand of justice. Across the alley, Eli knelt at Thane’s side, where my packmate had collapsed on the pavement. Fuck, I didn’t know what had happened, but he didn’t look good.
Eli’s gaze collided with mine, and his voice cracked with emotion in my earpiece. “He’s okay. Demi?”
His question cut through the frenzy whirling through my head, narrowing my sole focus on my precious Omega.
“I don’t—” I swallowed, then tried again. “I don’t know if she’s breathing.”
I stumbled toward her, my heart lurching at the sight of how still she was.
Suddenly, I was a child, right back in that fucking kitchen, finding my parents’ overdosed bodies cold and unresponsive.
Not again. Not fucking again.
Losing my parents had been difficult, but they weren’t good people. The culmination of a lifetime of bad choices led to their deaths. But Demi? She didn’t deserve any of this. She was warm and good, selfless and sweet. The world would be a darker place without her light, her love, her laughter.
Demi, Demi, Demi…
Her name was a litany, a chant, a prayer—the very beat of my fucking heart.
I was nothing without her.
I dropped to my knees before her, and Leo moved back, allowing me to see her fully.
“Baby—” The choked sound stuck in my throat, torn apart by the agony that threatened to destroy me.
More reinforcements arrived, but I couldn’t bear to pry my gaze off my beautiful mate. There was blood. So much blood.
Hands hovering over her body, I searched for the bullet wound I could apply pressure to. Anything to stop the bleeding. To give her more time. Belatedly, I noted the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and my lungs finally expanded enough to draw in a ragged, unstable breath.
“She’s alive,” I rasped so my packmates could hold on to the same frayed, tattered hope I did; the belief that our world wasn’t shattered when we’d just made it whole.
Demi completed us. She was our center. Our sole reason for existing. And I didn’t know what would be left of us if we lost her.
Having turned Anton, Huck, and Reed over to Pack Jacobs, the rest of my pack fell to their knees around us, their hands grazing over her hair, her arms, and her legs.
“Sweetness,” Jamison breathed.
“Where is she hurt?” Eli’s eyebrows slanted inward, creasing his forehead as he, like me, scanned her for injuries, assessing her health in a way I couldn’t. He had a critical eye for these things that came from years of training.
