“Got a lock on them,” he announces, voice strained but firm. “I swear after this, I’m putting a tracker directly on Fallon’s ass.”
Voss lets out a low growl of agreement from where he’s pacing restlessly behind the couch, radiating barely-contained fury. Jace and Kingston exchange brief glances filled with grim understanding. I know exactly how they feel—Violet’s absence has left a hollow, aching space in my chest. The longer she’s out of reach, the closer I am to snapping.
Romano scribbles something quickly onto a scrap of paper before standing up and shoving it roughly into my hand. I glance down, my pulse quickening at the sight of an address—finally, something solid, a place to direct our rage.
“I’d say let’s ride together,” Romano says dryly, meeting my gaze knowingly, “but I’m pretty sure none of us have the patience to get our omegas alone.”
He’s right. Patience vanished the moment we realized our mates were in danger—again. I nod sharply, feeling a familiar surge of protective fury tightening my chest. “We’ll meet you there.”
Romano’s lips twitch into a faint, grim smile. “Good. Try not to leave too much of a mess.”
“No promises,” Dare growls beside me, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His usually calm, measured demeanor is entirely replaced by a lethal determination I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Let’s go,” Jex says sharply, already striding toward the door, impatience and urgency vibrating off him like a physical force.
I pocket the address and move quickly after him, my heart pounding, my mind already fixated on one goal—getting Violet back safe, no matter what the cost.
Violet
May 26th
1:02 P.M
The man scoffs weakly, his voice laced with shaky defiance. “You’re just a couple omegas. What the fuck can you do to me?”
Fallon freezes mid-step, the corners of her mouth curling into something venomously sweet as she leans in, pressing the tip of her blade beneath his chin. Not enough to draw blood—yet—but enough to make him feel it. Her smile is all teeth, and her tone is pure honey-laced poison.
“Oh, sweetie,” she croons, “you really haven’t done your homework, have you?”
I stalk forward, my steps slow, deliberate. The soft thud of my boots on the floor echoes like a countdown. I tilt my head, studying him the way I might examine a bug I haven’t quite decided whether to squash or dissect.
“Let’s try this again,” I say quietly. “Who sent you? And more importantly…” I crouch down until we’re face to face, my eyes locked on his, “Were you here formeorher?”
His jaw tightens, mouth stubbornly clamped shut. The flicker in his gaze tells me he’s afraid—just not enough yet.
Fallon sighs, dramatically disappointed, and pushes the knife a fraction deeper until a thin, crimson bead slides slowly down his throat. “You’re not very good at this,” she mutters. “I expected more. At least some creative cursing or a fake name.”
“You’re going to get yourselves killed,” he hisses, though his voice cracks.
Fallon hums pleasantly. “Maybe. But you first.”
I step around him, trailing my fingers along the back of the chair he’s bound to, circling like a predator sizing up its next move. “Were you sent for her pack or mine?”
That gets a reaction.
His mouth twitches—an involuntary slip.
Still, he sneers. “You think I’m scared of your packs? A bunch of weak alphas playing house—”
Fallon interrupts, her voice light as air. “My mates are the Rosetti pack.”
The effect is immediate.
His body jolts, breath catching audibly in his throat. He pales, visibly, the color draining from his face like someone pulled the plug. His bravado dies a swift, pathetic death. The kind of fear that only comes fromknowingjust how royally you’ve fucked up blooms across his expression.
I exchange a look with Fallon and then lean down again, my tone soft and cutting. “Ohhh, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s wrong, tough guy? Thought we were just some easy marks?”
His eyes flick between us, panicked. “No one said anything about Rosetti. They said it’d be simple. Just two omegas with minor affiliations—”