Page 67 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Forty-Five

Chloe

B ranches whip across my face as Simon drags me deeper into the woods. His hand crushes my lips, fingers digging into my cheeks. The stench of gasoline and smoke clings to his clothes, the toxic cloud surrounding us.

In my arms, Quinn’s scream pierces the night.

“Shut up!” Simon stumbles over exposed roots, and his breathing comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with manic energy. “Shut her up, or I swear I will.”

He releases my mouth to grab Quinn, yanking her from my arms. She cries out, her small body dangling from his grip.

“Let her go!” I lunge for her, but Simon shoves me back with enough force to send me sprawling. My palms scrape over pine needles and dirt, my skin tearing.

“Both of you, quiet!” Simon’s eyes are wild in the dim light filtering through the trees. He still holds Quinn, who whimpers but stops screaming, her face white with fear.

My chest heaves as I struggle to breathe. The smoke in my lungs burns with each inhale, and blood trickles down my temple where a branch caught me. I lost the blanket when Simon grabbed us, and Dominic’s shirt hangs on my frame, leaving my legs and arms exposed to the cool night air.

“Simon, this is insane.” I force myself to stay calm. “The police are already here. They’ll find us.”

A brittle laugh escapes him, and the unhinged sound raises the fine hairs on my body. “You think I care about that? Nothing matters anymore.”

Quinn trembles in his grip, no longer dangling but still trapped. I try to project a calm to her that I don’t feel, silently promising to us both that I’ll get her out of this.

“Why did you set the fire?” I push myself to my knees. “You could have killed everyone.”

Simon’s face contorts, flickering between rage and hurt. “If I can’t have you, no one can.” He pulls Quinn closer, using her as a shield. “They took everything from me. My career, my standing, everything I built. All because you couldn’t stick to the plan.”

The distant wail of sirens carries through the trees. Simon’s head snaps toward the sound, and his grip on Quinn tightens until she whimpers.

“The plan was never real.” I inch forward on my knees. “Gregory was using you, just like he used my mother and tried to use me.”

His free hand strikes out, catching me across the face. Stars explode through my skull, and the taste of copper floods my mouth.

“Shut up!” Spittle flies from his lips. “You chose those mongrels over me! After everything I did for you!”

Quinn slaps at him. “Don’t hurt my aunt!”

Simon blinks down at her, as if only just remembering she exists. His grip loosens, and Quinn stomps on his foot with all her strength.

He yelps, dropping her arm. Quinn stumbles but stays upright, frozen between fleeing and staying near me.

“Run,” I whisper.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t move.

“Run!” I scream, lunging at Simon.

My shoulder connects with his stomach, driving him back a step. Quinn bolts, her small form disappearing into the trees .

Simon roars with rage, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back.

Pain explodes across my scalp as he drags me upright. His other hand fumbles in his pocket, emerging with a knife that glints in the distant firelight.

“You stupid bitch.” He presses the blade to my throat. “Always running away from what’s best for you.”

The cold metal kisses my skin, not quite breaking it. I swallow, feeling the edge dimple my skin with the movement.

“Why me?” I ask, trying to buy time and praying Quinn makes it back to the others.

Simon’s breath scorches my skin. “You made me.” The knife traces a slow line down my neck. “You wrote my soul into those pages. With every line, every word, I felt you calling to me. And then you abandoned me.”

His face hardens. “You were supposed to choose me. But you gave yourself to them instead.”

As he raises the knife to strike, I drive my elbow backward, connecting with his ribs. He grunts, his grip loosening enough for me to break free. I scramble forward, but his hand closes around my ankle, yanking me back.

My knees hit the ground hard, sending pain shooting up my legs. I kick out, my bare foot connecting with his face. Blood spurts from his nose, but his grip doesn’t falter again.

“You think you can fight me?” He crawls up my body. “You’re nothing without your precious Alphas.”

I twist onto my back, bringing my knee up hard between his legs. Simon howls, doubling over, but recovers faster than I expect. The knife flashes as he slashes blindly, catching my arm, and fire races along my skin as blood wells from the cut.

He lunges for me again. “I’m going to carve those Marks right off your neck!”

I roll away, my hand closing around a fallen branch. I swing it with all my strength, catching him across the temple. The wood splinters, but Simon barely flinches.

His fist connects with my cheek, sending me sprawling. The world spins, dirt and pine needles filling my mouth. Before I can push myself up, Simon’s weight crashes onto my back, pinning me to the ground.

“I was supposed to have everything,” he pants, his breath hot on my neck. “The girl, the fortune, the legacy. I did everything right.”

His fingers tangle in my hair, slamming my face into the dirt. Blood and dirt fill my mouth, and I struggle to breathe as his weight compresses my lungs. “You ruined it all. Now I’m going to ruin you.”

The weight shifts as he flips me over, straddling my hips. The knife reappears, the blade sharp against my throat. His face looms above me, streaked with blood from his nose and hatred twisting his narrow features.

“Simon,” I gasp through the pain, “don’t do this.”

“Too late for begging.” A sting comes from my throat, followed by a trickle of warmth that runs down my neck. “No one’s coming to save you this time.”

As his weight shifts, and he adjusts his grip on the knife, movement comes from the darkness behind him, glowing eyes reflecting the distant firelight.

A guttural growl splits the night, so deep it vibrates through the ground beneath my back.

Simon freezes, knife still pressed to my throat. As the growl comes again, closer this time, his head turns slowly. “What the?—”

The shadows behind him coalesce into a massive form, teeth gleaming in the darkness.

Sprinkles launches through the air, a black shadow of fur and fury.

His massive body slams into Simon with enough force to send both of them tumbling.

The knife flies from Simon’s hand, disappearing into the underbrush as Sprinkles pins him to the ground with two hundred pounds of Newfoundland muscle.

Simon shrieks, a sound so high and thin it sounds inhuman. His arms flail as Sprinkles’ massive jaws close around his shoulder, not piercing the skin, but holding him in place with tremendous strength.

I scramble backward on hands and knees, my body moving before my mind can catch up. Blood drips from the shallow cut on my neck, and each breath burns from smoke and exertion.

“Sprinkles,” I rasp.

The dog’s ears twitch, but his focus remains on Simon, who lies frozen beneath him. Sprinkles’ growl continues, a continuous rumble that vibrates through the forest floor.

“Get it off me!” Simon’s face contorts with terror. “Please! Call it off!”

I push myself to my feet, legs trembling. “Sprinkles is trained not to bite unless commanded. Unlike you, he can control himself.”

Despite my words, Sprinkles’ chest heaves with labored breaths, and I’m not sure how long the dog can hold Simon .

A small movement in the trees catches my eye. Quinn crouches behind a broad tree trunk, her scared face pale in the darkness.

“Quinn.” I move toward her with my hands outstretched.

She bursts from her hiding place and flies into my arms. Her small body collides with mine hard enough to steal my breath.

I hold her tight. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Her arms wind around my neck, holding on so tight it hurts. “I ran to find help. Uncle Blake and Uncle Dom are coming.”

As if summoned by her words, flashlight beams cut through the trees. Voices call my name, growing closer with each second.

“Over here!” I shout, the effort sending me into a coughing fit.

Footsteps crash through the underbrush. Dominic appears first, face twisted in fear. Blake and Nathaniel follow close behind, with uniformed officers at their heels.

“Chloe!” Dominic reaches us in three strides, pulling Quinn and me into his arms. His body trembles around us, his scent sharp with adrenaline and fury.

Simon struggles beneath Sprinkles, trying to take advantage of the distraction. “Help me! This animal is attacking me!”

Blake steps forward, his posture rigid with controlled rage. He places a hand on Sprinkles’ head. “Stand down.”

Sprinkles releases Simon’s shoulder and backs away, though his focus never leaves the man on the ground. Simon scrambles backward, only to find himself surrounded by police officers, their weapons drawn.

“That’s him.” Nathaniel points. “That’s Simon Sullivan. He killed Louie Santaros, stalked our bondmate, set the fire, and kidnapped our Omega and pup.”

The officers move in, forcing Simon face down on the ground. As they cuff his hands behind his back, he continues to babble, words tumbling over each other in desperate streams.

“She betrayed me!” Spittle flies from his lips. “I was only trying to fix things. Gregory promised she’d be mine. Call Gregory Sinclair!”

As the officers haul him to his feet, their flashlight beams reveal his torn, soot-stained clothes, wild hair, and deranged expression. He looks nothing like the composed man who sat across from us in the conference room days ago .

“He had a knife,” I tell them, gesturing to where I last saw it.

An officer waves his flashlight over the ground until the metal glints among the pine needles.

Another officer retrieves it with gloved hands, placing it in an evidence bag. “We’ll need statements from all of you.”

Dominic’s arm tightens around my waist. “She needs medical attention first.”

As if his words break a spell, the pain comes rushing back. My scraped palms, the cut on my neck, the bruises forming on my face. I sway on my feet, and Dominic steadies me.

“Medics are on scene.” The officer’s expression softens. “Let’s get you both checked out.”

Quinn refuses to let go of me as we walk back through the trees. The forest opens up to reveal the chaotic scene by the Homestead.

A helicopter thunders overhead, releasing another load of lake water onto the roof.

On the ground, firefighters drag hoses from portable pumps stationed at the shoreline, directing high-pressure streams into the smoldering remains.

The worst of the blaze has been beaten back, but smoke still curls from the charred rafters.

Paramedics rush up the trail from the water, med kits slung over their shoulders .

“Over here!” One of the officers waves to draw their attention.

They sprint toward us, ducking beneath smoke still curling through the air. One of them has an oxygen tank already unstrapped.

At the dock, a boat motor rumbles, ready to carry us to the mainland the moment we’re stable enough to move.

“Smoke inhalation and lacerations,” Dominic explains as they guide me to sit on a fallen log.

A female paramedic coaxes Quinn to sit beside me while she checks her over. “Any trouble breathing, sweetheart?”

Quinn shakes her head, hand tight in mine. “Is Aunt Chloe okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her, though the oxygen mask the paramedic places over my face muffles my words.

Cool oxygen floods my lungs, easing the burn. Another medic cleans the cut on my neck and patches the cut on my arm, pronouncing them both shallow enough to avoid stitches. The scrapes on my palms sting as they’re disinfected and bandaged.

Through it all, my pack surrounds me. Dominic paces beside the EMTs, unwilling to move out of sight.

Nathaniel speaks with the police, his gestures controlled but sharp with suppressed emotion.

Blake stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, glaring as Simon is marched down to the police boat.

And then there’s Holden, kneeling beside Sprinkles a short distance away. The dog receives his own oxygen treatment, a special mask fitted over his muzzle. Holden’s fingers thread through the thick black fur, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs of relief.

When the paramedics finish with me, I push off the oxygen mask. “I need to?—”

“I know.” Dominic helps me to my feet.

Quinn’s hand stays in mine as we cross the grass to where Holden and Sprinkles wait. Blake and Nathaniel join us, the pack converging as if pulled by gravity.

Sprinkles’ tail thumps weakly on the ground at our approach. Holden’s head lifts, his face streaked with tears and soot.

“He saved me.” I drop to my knees beside them. “He found me in the woods.”

Holden nods, words failing him. He wraps his arms around Sprinkles’ neck, burying his face in the thick fur.

“Good boy.” Blake crouches to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “The best boy. ”

Quinn lets go of me to throw her arms around Sprinkles. “You saved Aunt Chloe.”

The dog nudges her cheek with the mask, his intelligent dark eyes watchful. Even exhausted and injured, he maintains his guardian pose, body angled toward us.

Dominic helps me stand as the paramedics pack up their equipment. His arm slides around my waist, pulling me close to his side. The heat of his body seeps into mine, chasing away the chill that had settled into my bones.

Nathaniel stares toward where the police took away Simon. “He’s not getting away again. He’ll never hurt you again.”

I shake my head. “The Sinclairs will pin everything on him.”

Dominic kisses my temple. “Good. They can lock him away for life.”

“The Santaros will get him in jail if the Sinclairs don’t,” Blake rumbles without a hint of remorse.

He steps closer, tilting my chin to examine the cut on my neck. Rage darkens his features at the sight, but his touch remains gentle. “We almost lost you again.”

“But you didn’t.” I reach for his hand. “You found me. All of you. ”

Holden rises to his feet, and Sprinkles stands, too, leaning heavily on his leg. “Pack finds pack.”

Quinn slips her small hand into mine again.

I look at each of them in turn, my Alphas, my pack, my family. Smoke-stained and battered, but alive.

Beyond them, the Homestead still smolders, parts of it reduced to charred timber and ash. But the walls stand, the foundation holds.

Like us, I think. Damaged but not destroyed.

Dominic holds me so tightly I can’t tell whose heart pounds harder against my ribs. “Let’s go home.”

The word rings through me, though it holds a different meaning now than it did hours ago.

Home isn’t the building behind us.

It’s the people surrounding me.

“Yes.” I lean into his strength. “Let’s go home.”