Page 26 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

"Saving your life," Lucas replied, his expression deadly serious. "Someone's trying to get in. We need to move. Now."

"How did you—" I started, but he cut me off.

"No time. Collins is on his way with backup." He gripped my arm firmly but not painfully, guiding me toward the front of the shop. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

Another crash sounded from the back room, louder this time, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. My blood ran cold as I realized whoever had broken in was now inside my shop.

"Move," Lucas urged, his voice low and urgent as he pulled me toward the front door.

"My shop—" I protested, looking back at the shelves of flowers, the arrangements we'd spent all day creating.

"Is insured," Lucas finished firmly. "Your life isn't replaceable."

Before I could argue further, the storage room door burst open. A figure dressed in black from head to toe stood in the doorway, face obscured by a ski mask. In their hand was something that glinted metallically in the dim light—a syringe.

My breath caught in my throat as memories of what Collins had told me flooded back. Hormone shock. Twelve dead Omegas. Injected with an experimental compound.

Lucas moved with startling speed, shoving me behind him and letting out a low, warning growl that vibrated through the air. The sound was primal, pure Alpha, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"Run," he ordered, not taking his eyes off the intruder. "Get to the front. Gabriel will be there."

I hesitated, torn between flight and some irrational need to protect my shop, my territory. The masked figure lunged forward, and Lucas met them halfway, their bodies colliding with enough force to shake the nearby shelves. A vase toppled and shattered, petals and water splashing across the floor.

"Vivian, GO!" Lucas shouted as he grappled with the intruder.

The command jolted me into action. I turned and ran toward the front of the shop, nearly slipping on scattered rose petals. Behind me, I could hear grunts and the sounds of breaking glass as they fought. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out even the wailing alarm.

I almost reached the front door, a crash from behind me made me spin around, just in time to see Lucas thrown against a display of orchids. The masked figure advanced, moving with unnatural speed and precision.

In that moment, the front door burst open. Collins stood in the doorway, his imposing frame silhouetted against the streetlights outside. His eyes locked with mine for a fraction of a second before moving past me to the scene unfolding in my shop.

"Get outside," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I slipped past him into the cool night air, gulping it down like I'd been drowning. Outside, I spotted Reeves and another man—presumably Theodore, the fourth pack member Reeves had mentioned—standing alert, scanning the street.

"Stay with her," Collins commanded, and then he was gone, rushing into the shop where Lucas was still fighting the intruder.

Reeves moved to my side instantly. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice oddly gentle as his eyes scanned me for injuries.

"I'm fine," I managed, though my voice sounded strange even to my own ears. "But Lucas—"

"Can handle himself," Reeves assured me, guiding me further from the shop entrance. "Collins will help him."

Theodore approached, his expression grim. Unlike the others, he seemed less physically imposing—tall but lean, with wire-rimmed glasses and an air of quiet intensity. "Police are three minutes out," he reported, holding up a tablet. "No other suspicious activity detected.”

More sounds of struggle echoed from inside the shop. The crash of breaking glass, the thud of bodies against walls, Collins's deep voice shouting something I couldn't make out. I took a step toward the entrance, but Reeves's hand shot out, gripping my arm.

"Don't even think about it," he warned, his tone brooking no argument.

"But they're destroying my shop," I protested, trying to pull away. "Everything I've worked for—"

"Will still be there tomorrow," Theodore interrupted, his voice softer than Reeves's but equally firm. "You might not be, if you go back in there."

I stopped struggling, the reality of his words sinking in. Someone had broken into my shop with a syringe—the same method used to kill those other Omegas. This wasn't about property damage; it was about my life.

"The intruder had a syringe," I said, my voice hollow.

Theodore's head snapped toward me, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. "You're certain?"

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