Page 66 of Knot Your Rebel

Grabbing my phone, I hit the voicemail button. Gunnar’s harried voice comes out of the speaker, but it’s garbled and hard to understand. All I hear is something about Nova and the hospital. Shit…

Pulling up his number, I hit call, and it rings and rings…. Come on, man. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. I chant the words as I listen to yet another ring. I expect at this point for it to go to voicemail, but then he answers.

“Tate, where the fuck you been?”

“What’s going on?” I don’t answer his question. Where I’ve been is not important right now, but if this has to do with Rebel’s best friend, I need to know so I can tell her.

“It’s Nova. She’s…. She was….” He sighs, unable to get the words out. His voice is choppy and emotional. “She… got attacked last night at the house. Whoever broke in last time must’ve come back to finish the job. I got there in time to stop him, but… he ran off before I could do anything. She’s got some bruising on her arms, and she’s emotionally beat up, but the doctor says she’s going to pull through.”

“Fuck.” It’s all I can think as I realize Rebel is going to blame herself for this. She’s going to blame going home with me last night as the reason Nova got attacked, even though we both know that’s not true.

He would’ve been waiting regardless of whether Rebel was home or not, and at the risk of sounding like a complete and total asshole, I’m glad Rebel wasn’t home last night. I’ll thank everything that’s holy that she was with me, safe.

As if I’ve called her into existence, I turn to see Rebel staring at me from the other side of the island in my kitchen. The blood has drained from her face. “What's going on?” She asks, her hand on her phone, the call list pulled up showing all the missed calls.

“Rebel.” I reach for her, but she pulls away.

“Tell me what happened? It’s Nova, right? Don’t tell me she’s…” Her voice cracks on the last word, and it has me rushing over to her and pulling her into my chest. I start to purr, pressing her head against my heart to calm her.

“Hey, Gunnar. We’ll be right there,” I say into the phone quickly before hanging up and focusing on my omega.

“Hey, she’s going to be okay.”

She chokes up, and a tear slips from the corner of her eye as those baby blues find mine. “This is my fault. I should’ve gone home. I should’ve known he would come again. We’ve been so vigilant. I just wanted one night. I wanted to spend the night with you alone, and she…”

Grabbing her shoulders, I lean down so my face is right in hers. “Rebel, listen to me. This is not your fault. This isn’t our fault. This is the fault of a psycho who thinks it’s okay to prey on people. Who thinks it’s okay to take what he wants and fuck all the consequences. Let me be clear, he will not get away with this. That I can promise you.”

I lift my phone again and type a text against her back.

Me: Do we have any video footage? Can you identify this perv?

G: Yes, I still had cameras there.

A grin pulls at my lips. Sneaky bastard, but I honestly don’t blame him. As long as he wasn’t videoing my omega, then we’re cool.

Me: I guess that’s good. How is she really?

G: Shaken up. Luckily, I got there in time, but I found him right before he…

He won’t finish that statement, but I know exactly what he’s going to say. It’s the exact thing I’ve been worried about happening with Rebel. Anger courses through my veins. The fact that his intended victim could’ve been Rebel has me wanting to unalive him, bring him back to life, and then unalive him again in a more gruesome way.

Me: Are they keeping her overnight?

G: It’s up in the air right now.

We keep texting for a few minutes, and he tells me which hospital they’re at and which room. I tell him we’ll see him soon.

Rebel seems frozen in my arms, and a few quiet sniffles register in my ears.

“Hey, Danger. She’s okay,” I whisper against her forehead, placing a sweet kiss against her.

“I left her alone. It’s my fault. I did this to her. Oh, God… if I had been there.” A shiver tears down her spine as she cringes.

“Rebel.”

She cries harder now, her shoulders shaking. “Tate, you don’t understand. She got hurt because of me. Oh, my God. How did I let this happen?” She keeps mumbling things, but I can’t understand what the rest of what she's saying is. It’s incoherent with her snotty crying and deep breathing.

“How about this… you go take a shower and get dressed. Then I’ll take you to see her. Okay?”

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