Page 67 of Believe it or Knot

I glance back at the restaurant, then mutter, “fuck it,” before pushing through the door. Only to find it empty. I check each of the stalls to be sure, but there’s nothing.

Gray arches his brow in question, to which I shake my head. “She’s not fucking in there.”

Without a word, Liam starts down the hall away from the other diners. It makes sense. We would have seen her reenter the restaurant from our table, and I was definitely watching. I’m always watching for her, if I’m honest.

A low whimper reaches my ears over the ambient din in the restaurant. Unmistakably female. Unmistakably my beta. Sorrel.

We race down the hall, turn a corner and there she is, cowering in a corner. Her pretty teal sundress is torn over one shoulder, her hair slipping from the updo she put it in at the beginning of the night. There are tears on her cheeks and bruises forming on her tan skin. I can make out the dark blotches from six feet away.

My furious gaze travels to the figure standing over her, and a jolt hits when I recognize him. Our fault. The bruises on her skin, the torn dress, the tears on her cheeks are all our fault.

“Patrick,” Gray’s voice snaps out, furious.

The man, the beta, we dated recently whips his head toward us, a grin on his face, even as his fingers tighten on Sorrel’s wrist so much that she whimpers.

The need to do something, to protect her, to beat this fucker to the ground flows through me, but he has a hold of my girl with one hand and a knife in the other. And I am not taking the chance with her fucking life. Ever.

Gray must come to the same conclusion, because when he speaks next, his voice is warmer. “There you are,” he says, like we’ve been looking for the psycho holding our girl hostage. “We were wondering where you got to.”

Sorrel watches us with wide eyes while Liam lets out a whine that has my alpha gnashing his teeth. Gray holds out a hand. “Why don’t you come with me so we can talk? We’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” Patrick says, sounding sort of dreamy, detached. Drugged, I realize. He’s high as a fucking kite. It’s part of the reason we broke things off with him. He was too volatile and too enamored with the easy access to hard drugs at the parties we brought him to. “You didn’t seem to miss me when you were kissing her.”

I hold out my hand like Gray is and flash an apologetic look at Sorrel. “You know how it is, Patrick. We have to put on a show for the cameras.”

He glances over at Sorrel, still trembling against the wall. “So who is she then? Some ingenue the production company wants to turn into a big star.” He turns his back on us and sneers down at our girl. “You suck Gray’s dad’s cock to get here, you little slut? You spread yourself wide on the casting couch to get a chance to steal my pack?”

“No,” Sorrel whimpers. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”

It probably would have been better if she’d lied, if she’d agreed with him.

He sneers and brandishes the knife in her face. “Sure, I totally believe that. Why else would they be with someone like you in your Target dress and unstyled hair? The only thing you have to offer is your fucking cunt.”

Sorrel closes her eyes and I have the distinct impression that the madman threatening her just landed a direct blow, echoing all of her fears about being with us. I make a mental note to address that with her later, but now is definitely not the time to refute his claim.

It’ll only make him angrier, and that is the last thing we need.

Movement at the corner of my eye draws my attention to Liam as he moves down the hall, his steps sure and steady, one of his hands stretched out. He’s pumping out soothing pheromones, filling the hall with them, trying to get everyone to calm down.

How he’s managing that when there’s a knife pointed at Sorrel, I have no clue, but I couldn’t be prouder of him. “It’s okay, Patrick,” he murmurs. “We were just having dinner with her. But she’s-she’s nothing to us.”

My heart clenches as Sorrel’s eyes slip closed, absorbing his words. A single tear slides down her cheek as she takes a deep breath in. I don’t know if Liam’s pheromones are doing their job or what, but she sags slightly against the wall, her breaths coming easier.

“Liam,” she whispers, worry clear in her tone. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, shifting closer. “Everything’s going to be okay, yeah?” Sorrel looks at me and I can read the question in her eyes: are you going to stop him? Your omega is putting himself at risk. Stop him.

I shake my head and her pretty aqua eyes narrow at me. I ignore her and keep my attention on the knife in Patrick’s hand, watching the erratic movements, flinching when it comes close to Sorrel’s skin.

Next to me, Gray is just as tense as I am. “Come on, Patrick,” he urges. “You don’t need her. You need us. Isn’t that right?”

Patrick nods. “I do. I do need you. You just… you just left me. Used me up and spit me out when you didn’t want me anymore.” He turns to look at Sorrel, his tone urgent, the knife getting far too close to her collarbone, the swell of flesh just under it. “They’ll do the same to you. They do it to everyone. No one is good enough for them. You have to be fucking perfect or they won’t want you anymore.”

Sorrel blinks at him, her lips parting in shock and there’s a flash of understanding in her eyes, but worse… there’s a flash of acceptance. Like what he says is true. We’re going to tire of her. If she makes one mistake, we’ll toss her to the curb, cut her off.

She nods slowly. “I-I understand. They hurt you, didn’t they?”

He nods emphatically, all his attention on her now, unaware of Liam creeping closer, Gray and I doing the same, though farther down the hall, not wanting to get too close and risk our beta. “They did. So much. One little mistake, that’s all. It was one mistake, and they dropped me, cut me off.”

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