Page 34

BOONE

I want to kill that guy.

Strangle him until there is no breath left in his body.

He’s touching what’s mine, what’s ours, and that shouldn’t go unpunished. I watch from our VIP box as Remi gyrates against the horny alpha pressed up against her. My nose is practically pressed up against the glass, seething.

“I’m going to kill him,” I say, turning around to make my way toward the stairs. At the last moment, Tripp snags my arm and halts me. I turn to glare at him, then glare at the hold he has on my arm. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Get a hold of yourself, professor,” he chortles. “Take a closer look.”

I do. The only thing I see is a soon-to-be-dead alpha. He’s touching someone that doesn’t belong to him, and I’m going to rip his arms off his body and beat him to death with them. I don’t care if he doesn’t know she’s been claimed. She’s ours.

Yet, I take a closer look at what Tripp told me to.

That’s when I see the pinched look on Remi’s face, the discomfort that exudes from her body.

She’s dancing, but she’s not allowing herself to freely give herself over to the music.

Instead, she looks as if she’d rather be anywhere than where she is right now.

“We did that to her,” I say, frowning. “We pushed her into the arms of another alpha.”

“She won’t go home with him,” Knox states, taking a drink of his top-shelf whiskey.

“What if she does?” I look over at him, watching his jaw tick.

His eyes blaze into mine. “The alpha won’t even see the door if he tries to take our omega home.”

Relief coils in my chest, tension loosening its grip on my shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, Knox’s words aren’t barbed with rivalry or indifference—they’re a promise, fierce and unwavering.

It catches me off guard, the realization that he’s no longer fighting against us but beside us. He’s finally on our side, the steel in his eyes no longer directed at me or Tripp, but reserved for anyone who’d threaten what’s ours.

I hadn’t noticed how much I needed that—needed him—until now. United, our pack feels whole again, stronger for having Knox’s allegiance where we once had only his opposition.

But, still, I have to ask … “I thought you were all about your image? I thought you were about saving her?”

He shakes his head, glaring back down at the dance floor. “My image had nothing to do with it. I was an idiot and threw that excuse out there, so I didn’t have to acknowledge what Remi is to us.”

“And that is?” Trip asks.

Knox sighs. “She’s everything. And I tried to save her, but it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

“She’s not getting away that easily,” he says, downing the rest of his whiskey. “Fuck what everyone thinks. I’ll protect her from everyone if I have to.”

A smirk tugs at my lips, unbidden and irrepressible, as I drag my gaze back to Remi—lost in the wild pulse of the music, her fake laughter tumbling free with every careless turn.

For the first time tonight, the shadows of doubt recede, chased out by a reckless thread of hope.

She’s ours—she always was—and watching her dance, I know I’d burn the world before I’d let anything tear us apart again.

She doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to do everything in our power to make her ours. We fucked up. That much is true. But she’s not going to get away a second time. We’re all in. Forever.

It’s impossible not to notice the way Remi moves—each step deliberate, a silent invitation as she guides the alpha away from the pulsing lights and tangled music. The crowd parts around them, a ripple of space forming, as if the universe itself holds its breath to watch her work.

She glances over her shoulder, laughter glimmering in her eyes, and the alpha follows, tethered to her by something invisible and undeniable.

They slip into the shadows at the edge of the floor, settling at a table half-shrouded by velvet drapes and the lazy swirl of conversation.

Remi leans in, her words drawing out a soft, reluctant smile from him.

Whatever secrets pass between them are lost beneath the thrum of the bass and the scattering of colored lights, but the connection is unmistakable.

Her laughter—real this time, unforced—curls through the air, bright as a promise.

From where I stand, I watch their silhouettes—her hand gesturing animatedly, his posture relaxing by degrees—marveling at how easily she can draw out even the most guarded parts of him.

They’re a study in opposites, wild and controlled, yet for this instant, perfectly in sync beneath the half-lit haze.

Watching her at the edge of the world she rules, I realize: this is where she belongs, and we belong with her, wherever she leads, and that alpha is intruding on our territory.

He’s stepping into something that will, no doubt, have him in over his head.

He’s coming between scent match mates, and that is a deadly thing to do.

Just then, an opening comes. The alpha nods toward the bathrooms, and I watch as Remi gives him a soft smile and nods.

We watch as he walks away toward the bathrooms, and that’s when we make our move.

As one, without a word spoken between us, we move as one unit toward the stairs.

Opening the door, we leave the VIP suite and make our way across the room.

We make sure that Remi cannot see us, or this will be all over before we can even start playing.

The hallway stretches before us, cloaked in shadows and the low hum of anticipation, its walls pulsing with the muffled beat of distant music.

Each step echoes on the polished tile, measured and silent, as if the corridor itself conspires to keep our approach secret.

Dim sconces cast golden pools along the way, catching the glint of determination in our eyes, illuminating the shared resolve that binds us tighter than blood.

We move together, a single current of intent slipping through the half-light—shoulders squared, breath synchronized, hearts drumming out the same relentless rhythm.

The plush carpet runner softens our tread, but nothing can mute the sharp prickle of adrenaline singing beneath our skin.

At the far end, the door to the bathrooms stands slightly ajar, a sliver of fluorescent brightness spilling into the gloom.

We exchange a glance—quick, electric—every unspoken word heavy in the air between us.

This is what we’ve been waiting for. With every stride, the distance shrinks, resolve sharpening until the very air tastes of possibility and risk.

The world narrows to this corridor, this moment, the certainty that we will not let Remi slip away again—not when we’re this close, not when the balance is shifting in our favor at last.

Pushing open the door, there he is. He’s pissing at one of the urinals, talking to himself, thinking that he’s alone.

“Gonna fuck that tight pussy and knot that bitch,” he says, chuckling.

It’s then that I notice an AirPod in his ear.

That son of a bitch.

“No, no, dude. I found the perfect omega. She’s so pathetic; it’s making this easy for me.”

“Yeah. I know. After I fuck that bitch, you can have at her. Meet me in the alley in ten, and we’ll have our fun.”

My eyes narrow on the alpha, and I’m bristling with barely controlled rage. Whoever it is he’s talking to, they’re joking about fucking our omega. They’re talking about her like she’s a piece of meat they can chew up and spit out.

Over my dead fucking body.

“Wanna say that again?” Knox asks, his voice low and controlled but clearly pissed.

We step inside the bathroom, and I click the lock on the door, shutting us in and the world out.

That alpha will have to get through us to get to her, and I guarantee he’s not getting through us.

We will keep Remi safe, even if she doesn’t know we’re doing it.

It’s our job, our very life, to do this.

We protect our own, and she belongs to us.

The alpha head jerks around from our abrupt entry into the bathroom.

The alpha stiffens at our presence, his bravado faltering just for a split second.

He mutters a hurried, “Bye,” into his AirPod, barely disguising the edge in his voice, and tucks himself away with practiced haste.

His hand lingers at his zipper as he turns, chin lifting in a show of forced confidence, eyes flicking from Knox to me to Tripp and back again.

Nothing but a smirk to hide the way his pulse stutters at our intrusion.

“What’s up, fellas?” he inquires, a slight smirk on his face.

My eyes narrow into slits, venom flickering in their depths as I take a sharp, angry step forward.

Before I can close the distance, Tripp's hand finds my shoulder, his grip firm—a silent warning and a promise that we're in this together.

The tension crackles between us, my weight straining against his restraint, every muscle coiled and ready to spring.

“Tripp,” I grind out, jerking my shoulder out of his hold.

“Knox needs to do this first,” he whispers under his breath. “We’re just here for backup.”

“Back up my ass.” I fume silently, my eyes flicking between the way Knox’s body seems to swell with aggression at the other alpha who does not realize who he’s fucking with.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you?” Knox states, taking a threatening step forward. “Well, you’re not.”

The other alpha’s eyes narrow. “Who the fuck are you?”

At this, Knox smirks. “Does the name ‘Hastings’ ring a bell?”

The alpha’s eyes flick to each of us, and then a dawning realization lights in his eyes. He pales slightly under the fluorescent lighting. His body, which was swelled before, seems to diminish right in front of our eyes.

He's terrified. Rightfully so. He’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, and that’s going to get the shit knocked out of him.

“As in, Daemon Hastings, the senator of our state?” He inquires, to which Knox’s terrifying smirk widens.