Page 8 of Ruin Me Knot
I grip the crowbar so hard my knuckles whiten, fighting the urge to smash through every wall and drag whoever did this into the daylight. I rein in my rage. I can’t let anything break my focus. Not even me.
The quiet click of a door opening further into the building jolts us. Instinct takes over. We move as one, slipping out of the empty room, soft on our feet, hugging the dead space along the corridor’s edge. At the junction, we freeze, pressed tight against the wall as I peer around the corner.
A tall, blond Alpha in a white lab coat disappears behind a door. Our muscles tense to follow, adrenaline climbing, eyes on the slow blink of the green light in the lock but then a faint whimper floats from a side hall.
Her fresh, vivid scent crashes over me, thick with terror, strangling the air in my throat.
Every instinct screams to find her. Ronan signals and we slide toward her. My lungs are filled with her sweetness drenched in pure distress. Her terror clings to my lips. I swallow it down until it burns in my chest.
The urge to break the world apart almost wrecks my control, but I force myself to breathe. We’ve learned to move smart, keep our heads. It’s what separates survival from death, what’s kept us alive through raids and trenches and contracts nobody else would touch.
Our Omega needs me sharp. Not reckless.
We reach a cracked door where her scent pours out. We press against the wall, and I draw in a deep inhale to detect who is in that room apart from our Omega. Five males tainted with that chemical stench, plus a female, but twisted. Not Alpha, Beta, or Omega. It prickles in my nose, makes every nerve crawl.
Ronan’s nostrils flare. He holds up his fist and then five fingers, makes a fist, then holds up one finger. Five males and one female. I nod confirmation.
Hardwick’s voice slices through the quiet, agitated and unraveling.
Leah whimpers, the sound bleeding and broken.
Then the scent of my Omega in heat hits. Tainted. Desperation twists through the sweetness. Arousal sharpened by misery and panic.
My body instantly responds. Dick hard, throbbing against my zipper. Balls tight, aching to spill. Canines throbbing, bonding venom flooding my mouth. Every instinct clamors to claim her, protect her, tear anyone else apart. My hands shake with that primal urge that turns every Alpha into a weapon and a refuge. I cling to control, a breath away from snapping.
When Ronan gives the signal my heart slams down and I’m moving. Adrenaline lights up every nerve in my body as he boots open the door, slamming it into concrete. The room erupts with noise and chaos as we storm inside.
I nearly stagger to a stop. Leah’s strapped to a stark metal gurney, sweat slicking her brow. Her skin is shock-white, lips cracked, eyes fever-bright and wandering, hollowed out by despair and drugs. She looks impossibly small, wrists purple against the restraints, every bone sharp under her skin. And still. So fucking still.
A line runs from her arm to bags of her blood on a metal table.
They’re bleeding her dry.
Ronan’s growl cracks the air, low and lethal. Jax reaches for the nearest guard.
Hardwick’s head snaps up. "Stop them!"
I detonate.
Rage consumes me, incandescent, scorching everything in its path. I don’t remember crossing the room, only that I’m swinging the crowbar, lashing with fists and boots, my pack at my back.
The guards hit harder than expected, but we keep fighting. One blocks me, his fist driving into my gut, another slams into Jax, trying to pin him against the wall. We keep swinging, using elbows, knees, teeth. I don’t care what damage I do to myself. I need to get to my mate.
Hardwick darts to the side, clutches the filled blood bags, and scuttles around the room with her back to the wall, using the chaos as cover before she slips through the door.
"Gabriel!" Ronan roars as he drives his fist into a guard’s face. "Go after her!"
I pivot, but pain explodes at my temple, and the world tilts out of focus. I drop, vision smeared with blood, then wobble back to my feet.
A shrill alarm blares. Red lights strobe along the ceiling. The guards scatter, shoving past us as a hiss fills the room. A cold white mist pours down from a grate in the ceiling and curls down toward us. I inhale some, and it immediately tickles my lungs and makes my head woozy.
"Get her out!" Ronan yells, already dashing to the tiny, too-still form on the gurney.
We tear at Leah’s restraints, panic thrumming in our veins. Jax rips the IV from her arm and slaps a bandage over the puncture. I slide my arms beneath her, lifting her gently from the gurney.
Gods, she’s burning up.
Not just hot, scalding, And light. Too light. I can’t believe she’s real.
