Page 121 of Chain Me Knot

The muscles in his jaw flex, something like approval flickering there. “That’s right. Not a damn soul’s getting past us.”

The thrum of approaching boots pulls my attention to the far end. Adrian and Cole appear, faces drawn and intent, eyes landing on me with a mix of relief and horror at the mess strewn across the marble.

Adrian takes one look at the blood, the shattered glass, then at the tension in Asher’s tightly held frame. “Gods almighty. When you said you’d take them out, I didn’t think literally, but at least there’s less garbage in the world.”

Cole’s gaze softens when he takes in my state, the streaks of blood and torn gown. “You up for this, Emma?”

“I’m holding up. Let’s finish this.” I’m so glad my voice doesn’t shake.

Asher nods, his shoulders set in a rigid line. “Jax, Gabriel, Ronan—you’re on point. The rest of us form a wedge around Emma. If any alpha so much as looks at her wrong, drop him.”

Phoenix’s hand squeezes my arm, voice fierce in my ear: “We’re your wall.”

Ronan signals after he checks the safety of the corridor, then the whole world narrows down to the sound of my own heartbeat and the circle of alphas around me. They’re a living fortress as we slip from the ruined hallway and back into the room we were ambushed, the stink of blood fading in the wake of our hope. As we step through the hidden door left ajar in search of Leah, my pack protects every move I take.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Emma

We stumble out of the room and into a lengthy stretch of tastefully paneled hallway with a velvet runner underfoot and expensive sconces casting soft light along the walls. Doors line one side, each one closed and giving nothing away. How will we ever find Leah? The only windows are narrow slits set high near the ceiling, blacked out so no hint of the outside world can reach us. The air smells antiseptic and stale, as if the space was built for secrets, not comfort.

Ronan, Gabriel and Jax check each door, every slam of boot and shoulder a demand that the walls finally give up their secrets. Room after room yields horror. Cots with leather straps. Bowls on the floor. Dirty, scrunched linens and the distant stink of fear. My breath is loud in my ears, matched by theharsh pants of my alphas. One door refuses to budge and it takes all the prime alphas to shoulder it open.

A single massive crash splinters the wood, the room beyond revealing a nightmare that will be etched into my mind forever.

The commissioner stands at the far wall, composed and smug despite the sudden invasion. His eyes flick dismissively to me, then linger on my alphas. On either side of him are his pack alphas, Logan and Mick, both broad men in dark suits, hands steady on the guns they’ve trained on the kneeling figures in front of them.

To his right stands Senator Evelyn Hardwick, a pearl necklace tight around her neck, her thin mouth twisted with contempt. If only this was the face she showed the public on news casts and social media posts. This was the face she showed during her visits at Haven. Behind her, her pack alphas, Kylie and Sean, loom, unaffected by the suffering at their feet.

They’ve clearly been waiting for this moment—for us.

“Leah,” I breathe. My vision blurs at the sight of Leah kneeling next to two other omegas, one of them Aubrey.

Leah is almost unrecognizable. Her hair is a tangled mess, embedded with blood, grime, grease and gods only know what else. Her dress is torn at the shoulder and is no more than rags. She presses her hands to her knees, head bent and so, so still.

Beside Leah, Aubrey’s frail form is hunched, a dog lead clipped back on his neck. Aubrey doesn’t look up. He shudders with every small motion anyone makes. A third omega kneels on Aubrey’s other side. A tiny, unfamiliar woman, so thin she looks as if a strong wind would shatter her. A bruise blooms over her temple, and she sways unsteadily. Only Hardwick’s cruel grip on her arm keeps her from falling.

The omegas’ scents are tainted by pain and illness, made weak through agony and defeat. They don’t stand a chance against the alphas who form a gun-ring around them, a wall of muscle, arrogance, and violence.

A sharp breath gushes from Adrian, “Gods. Skylar…what the fuck have your alphas done to you?”

Hardwick rolls her eyes. “Oh please. Spare me the sanctimonious alpha shit, Adrian. It makes me want to yak.”

“How can you think treating omegas like this is anything but wrong?” Asher’s growl vibrates from deep within his chest.

“You’re such a do-good alpha, doing his best to beat the system. You always were predictable, Asher, and taking care of broken little things is going to be your downfall,” the commissioner says.

My fingers curl with the urge to claw his eyes out. How dare they make fun of alphas who know the true worth of their omegas. Who understand not to take by force things people smaller than them don’t want to give. I can’t stop the tiny growl that unfurls in my chest.

The commissioner’s gaze lands on me, and he smiles, contemptuous. “Move a muscle and they die, Omega. Gods, I can’t wait to give you to alphas who will truly make you understand your place. Pack Carmichael were far too soft on you.”

Rage howls in my chest and Phoenix whispers in my ear, “Don’t move, Tough Girl. We’ll end this. Don’t give them what they want.”

Asher’s voice is cold and hard as a blade. “We’re getting this on camera, Commissioner. Let the omegas go. Or you’ll never walk out of here again.”

The commissioner’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He shrugs off Asher’s threat with a careless lift of his shoulders, as if Asher is an irritating child tugging at his sleeve. “Whatever you think you have doesn’t matter. I’ll just say that any footage you have is all faked, doctored nonsense. Who do you think the world’s going to believe?” He sweeps his cold gaze over us. “Me? Or some fallen cops playing hero? The golden detective who burnt his badge to the ground for magic omega pussy.”

Senator Hardwick cocks her hip. “Here’s your choice, detectives, and Pinnacle pains in my ass. Drop your weapons and get on your knees. We’ll be gracious and let the little fuck toys”—She jerks her chin at the omegas huddled together in front of her—”live. That’s not to say we won’t paint you as villains. We need scapegoats, after all. Alphas who are so righteous about omega rightson the outside but have hidden their rotten cores in private. The world will be up in arms about all these unfortunate events concerning poor omegas sold at horrible auctions run by the very alphas who pretend to protect them.”

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