Page 66 of Sacrifice

“Where’s Rook?” Aisling’s voice breaks through my focus, sharp as shattered glass.

“Looking for the shooter,” Oberon growls, eyes flicking to the shadowed corners, knowing Rook’s already melted away into the chaos—our ghost in the tumult, hunting.

That’s when Vance pushes through the crowd, coming into my line of sight. His presence looms like a storm cloud, dark and charged with intent. Aisling sees him too, her expression contorting from fear to rage in an instant.

“Vance!” Her scream cuts through the noise, raw and accusing. “Did you do this? Did you order a hit on Nero?”

Vance kneels close, trying to seem unthreatening, but his bright blue eyes betray a hint of desperation. “Aisling, I swear—I have nothing to do with this.”

“Stay the fuck away from us!” Aisling’s voice is a whip, lashing out with all the pent-up fury of a betrayed omega. Her accusation hangs in the air, heavy with suspicion and the bitter tang of betrayal.

“Easy, Aisling.” My words are steel wrapped in velvet, a command woven with concern. To Vance, I growl, “Move back or answer to me.”

We stay locked in a standoff for a moment, our eyes meeting. He knows he’s losing power…and I’m rising.

It’s going to come to violence eventually.

But we’re interrupted when a group of women with guns comes toward us, eyes narrowed.

“Everyone, we need to move—now!” The command slices through the panic-stricken air, and I swivel my head to find Isla Connolly emerging from the fray, a gun clasped firmly in her hand. She’s all sharp edges and fierce determination.

“Hotel’s going into lockdown.” Isla’s voice is authoritative, brooking no argument as her hand lands on Aisling’s shoulder—a grounding force amid the turmoil.

“Lead the way,” I nod to Isla, shifting Nero’s weight more securely onto my shoulder. Oberon grunts in agreement, his own arm wrapped tightly around Nero’s waist. Blood seeps through the fabric of Nero’s shirt, but he’s conscious—barely—and that’s enough for now.

Isla moves ahead, her eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. We’re a pack on the defense, with Aisling at our core—her grey eyes flash as she keeps a wary gaze trained on Vance, who lingers like a shadow we can’t shake.

“Keep close,” I murmur to Aisling, watching as she nods tersely, her lips pressed into a thin line.

As we navigate the chaos, the panicked crowd parts for us like we’re made of fire and wrath. Isla’s presence commands respect; even in the face of danger, she’s unyielding, a testament to the resilience of omegas who’ve had to fight for every shred of freedom.

“Watch your six,” Oberon warns under his breath, and I tilt my head just enough to catch a glimpse behind us. Vance keeps his distance but follows, his expression unreadable. His allegiance is a question mark that dangles over us, heavy and ominous.

“Let him follow,” I say quietly, “but if he steps out of line, he’s mine.”

We spill out of the ballroom, a chaotic tumble of adrenaline and fear, and my heart thunders in my chest. Rook materializes from the shadows, his eyes sharp, face etched with concern. Without a word, he falls into step with us, an unspoken trust binding him to our collective purpose.

“Got a medic and Inari waiting,” he says, voice a low growl that barely rises above the commotion around us.

“Good,” I reply, trying to keep the strain from my voice as Nero’s weight bears down on me. We round the corner, and find Inari standing by the elevator, her presence like a beacon in the dimly lit corridor. She’s flanked by a medic beta who looks too young to be caught up in this hell but has his bag ready, hands steady.

“Damn, you’re fast,” I grunt as we approach, impressed despite the chaos.

“Didn’t get to where I am by being slow, Gunnar,” Inari replies, a flicker of wry humor lighting her dark eyes before they harden once more. Her face is all soldier, even with her body still draped in a glittering gown. “Let’s move.”

The elevator doors open with a hushed ding, a stark contrast to the turmoil behind us. Security, grim-faced and alert, forms a perimeter as we shuffle inside. The silence in the confined space is heavy, each of us lost in our own thoughts as we ascend toward safety—or at least, what passes for it in this twisted world.

“Should’ve been treated back there,” I mutter, glancing down at Nero whose head lolls against my arm. His eyelids flutter, pain clouding his brown eyes.

“Alpha resilience is the only thing keeping him on this side,” Oberon adds, his tone grim. “But we need to stop the bleeding. Now.”

“Agreed,” the medic pipes in, his voice steady despite the urgency. “I’ll do what I can once we’re in the room.”

As the elevator doors open again, security sweeps into action, creating a clear path to Nero’s suite. Nero’s breaths come in shallow bursts, and I can almost feel the life ebbing from him with each step we take.

“Stay with us, Rossi,” I urge, casting a sidelong glance at the alpha in my arms. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“Too…stubborn to die,” Nero manages, a shadow of a smirk dancing on his lips even as his skin grows paler.

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