Page 31 of Knot Your Rebel

“Shit. Don’t move. I’m on my way now.”

Reaching back, I shake her leg, mouthing for her to hand over the phone. I’m trying to be nice for the sake that she’s Rebels best friend, but if she doesn’t turn it over soon, I’ll shatter. My mate is in danger, and the only thing this alpha sees is a mere beta standing between us.

He says to eliminate the threat. Reasonably, I know that’s not the case, but he’s pounding against my chest, demanding action.

“Let me talk to her,” I growl at Nova, and it reverberates through the space, sounding fucking deadly. Gunnar growls at me in return. I get it, believe me. But, fuck… I shove a hand through my hair and pull as I hold the other out, trying to calmly demand the phone. The tinge of pain grounds the madness swirling in my brain.

She presses her lips together as her brows furrow. Her voice comes out in a tremulous tone. “No. What the hell, Tate. She won’t want to talk to you.”

I cast her a glowering stare. “Don’t care. She needs to talk to me whether she wants to or not. I can feel her emotions from here.” She finally concedes and hands over the phone. “Tell me what’s going on, Rebel.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Tate. You sssshhhoulldn’t have to worry. E’rythings good heere.” She slurs, but I’m still caught on the fact that she managed to figure out my name since she ran from me. Later, I tell myself.

“I’m coming over.” It’s a demand, not a request. I try to use a carefully controlled tone, but even I can hear the anger and violence coursing through it.

An empty laugh greets my ears. “You’re a bastard. Don’t need y-you…” Her breath hitches… lie.

The slurring slips deeper into the void, and I can only imagine how drunk she is right now. She wasn't when she left, which means in the last hour, all she’s done is drink. Another stupid decision. She’s racking up punishments left and right tonight. My teeth grind. “I can’t understand you, Rebel. We’re almost there. You made sure he was gone, right?”

Placing my hand over the microphone, I turn to Gunnar. “Park down here.” I point to the street in front of us. “She says he’s gone, but she’s also fucking drunk.” There’s grit in the tone of my voice.

His lips flatten in disapproval. I get it; feeling the same damn way.

“I can understand myself just fine, so that’s on him. Why the hell does he have to be so pretty?” Rebel’s sweet voice pours through the phone like the sweetest honey. My dick rises, reminding me how good she tastes, too. Shaking my head, I attempt to rid myself of those thoughts.

I take the opportunity to respond to her because I’m guessing she had no intention of actually saying that out loud. “Now, that I understand. Glad you like the way I look, my little mouse.”

She squeaks, “Bbye.” The next thing I hear is the unmistakable click of her hanging up on me. Strike three.

Gunnar slows down and parks a couple of streets away from the house so we can sneak up on it without alerting anyone unsavory to our presence before it’s absolutely necessary. I can’t trust her mind right now to believe that she’s all alone. He could be prowling around outside the house, waiting until she gets even more inebriated. She wouldn’t have a damn clue. This is why you don’t drink when you’re put in these situations.

Gunnar and I step out onto the sidewalk and shuffle around to the trunk. The lock clicks as the hatch opens. Pulling the tire well up, I see a small duffle bag shoved in the back corner.

I should’ve just loaded the app and looked to see if he was gone, but I've been too preoccupied with trying to just get here and not lose my shit. If my alpha was a bull, he’d be going to town in a China shop full of glass; pounding a heavy beat against my chest.

Emotions trickle down our bond, and I feel them out for any sort of enlightenment. There’s not a lot of fear and a part of her seems very relaxed. So he’s either gone or the alcohol is drowning out the sensibility. It’s probably been an hour since I left her standing by the kitchen. A lot can fucking happen in sixty goddamn minutes. I’m going to have my work cut out for me over the next week if he’s already gone. Tracking down this fucker so he can see the error in his ways will be a delightful treat.

Pulling a Ruger out, he sticks it in the waistband of his pants and nods that he’s ready. Not exactly the smartest idea, but I’ll take it. The car door creaks open, and Nova steps out.

“Fuck, no. You’re not fucking going in there.”

Throwing her hands on her hips like she’s an obstinate five-year-old, she huffs indignantly. “She’s my friend. You can’t stop me.”

He gives her a wicked grin. “You remember what we did with the handcuffs earlier? I can make it happen for you again.” Her cheeks brighten in embarrassment, and she stops making eye contact. “Get back in the car. I promise I will come and get you when we’re sure it's safe.”

I growl, grabbing their attention. “My mate could be in there with a psycho, we can have this discussion literally any other time!” I turn away and storm off, heading towards the house. With each step, my breathing gets more ragged. My alpha is bursting at the seams.

“Did he just say mate?” I hear Nova whisper before the car door opens, and she’s unceremoniously shut in the car again. He opens his door and cracks the window like she’s some sort of dog who can’t stay in a hot car. Even though its barely above fucking seventy degrees out today.

Jesus, he’s fucking beta whipped. Amusement chortles out of me in the form of a laugh. Why the fuck am I wasting my time worrying about these two nutheads?

My feet have just hit the welcome mat by the time Gunnar catches up with me. The keys rattle an ungodly noise as I shove them in the door. The locks disengage, and a warm sort of peace flows through my body. That’s got to be a good sign.

Time does linger long before I’ve found my mate; her curvy little body sits on the couch, limbs boneless as her head lays back. Snores whisper in the air around her, a soft lullaby of tone. She looks more frayed than she did an hour ago, and the shadows below her eyes seem to have grown.

The desire to strip her down and check every inch of her body to make sure she’s okay festers inside me, but I won’t do that in front of Bert and Ernie over there, who are currently watching me with a weary eye.

Leaning down, I slip a hand behind her back and under her knees to lift her into my arms. The bottle she’s been drinking rolls out from where she was sitting, and my stomach drops. She drank the whole thing?

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