Page 103 of Laurels and Liquor

“Gone. Smashed,” I bluff, thankful my voice isn’t as shaky as my hands.

“Smart, I suppose. I wouldn’t want to go through that again, either,” Seth drawls, shrugging one shoulder.

I lift my chin. He’s still stalking forward, but my back is to the stairs. I need him to get closer, to think he’s got me. If he thinks he’s won, then he might get sloppy. I can’t match him physically, but I can sure as hell out-think this asshole.

“It wasn’t so bad. A few days holed up, getting fucked by a real man over and over again—”

“You bitch,” Seth snarls, lunging for me with an open palm.

I dodge, using my speed to outmaneuver his bulk. I have to keep him from grabbing me. Stall, dodge, weave. Under the scaffolding, over the table. He’s slow through the obstacles, and I get my space back.

“I’ve been called far worse by far better people than the likes of you, Omega,” I taunt, carefully backing away and keeping myself out of arm’s reach.

Seth tries his best to mimic an alpha growl, but it’s such a pathetic attempt that I can’t help but laugh. Though a moment later, I yelp as I dance out of his way once more, moving toward the stairs again. I’m about to dash up the steps when he strikes, and as I move back, my foot catches on a wrinkle in the plastic, and I swing my arms wildly, trying to get my balance. But that’s all the opportunity Seth needs.

My back hits the edge of a step with a painful crack, and I gasp, trying to move, but Seth jumps on top of me, straddling my chest as his hands come down around my throat. I can only stare up as he squeezes tighter and tighter, the manic glint in his eyes all I can see.

“I was going to let you live, Alex. You would have had to live with the scraps of your pack and never be able to fix it. That seemed fitting enough punishment for you. But you had to go and ruin my plans, didn’t you? You could never give me what I needed, so I’m just going to have to take it,” Seth hisses, and I’m not even sure he’s speaking to me anymore.

My head pounds as I try to breathe, but no air comes. I claw at his arms and fingers, trying to get him to let go, but he won’t let up. Reality drops on me like a lead weight. I’m going to die, and then Seth is going to kill my pack, or worse, tear their bonds apart. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t protect them when they needed me the most. And I didn’t even get to tell them that I loved them one last time.

My vision tunnels, going black around the edges, and I close my eyes, resigned. Tears leak from my eyes, and I wait for the darkness to envelop me. But then, a crack like thunder breaks through the haze of oncoming oblivion. And then another. No, not thunder. Gunshots.

The fingers around my throat go slack and I take in gasping, coughing, burning breaths, trying to regain my bearings. A groan from beside me draws my attention, and I turn to see Seth collapsed on his stomach, two dark spots in his shirt growing larger. He rolls over and coughs, red-tinged spittle coming up.

“Mine,” a familiar female voice snarls.

Chapter fifty-five

Lydia

Thebodyofmyabuser hits the floor with an unceremonious thump, a growing pool of red spreading out from under him into the plastic. I can only stare into his wide, unseeing eyes, his expression of surprise frozen in place for eternity.

Darren McLaughlin is dead. And I killed him.

I want to feel horror, or guilt, orsomething, but all I can feel inside of me is all-consuming relief. He’s gone, and he can never hurt me again. I did that. I’m a murderer, but I’m light enough to float to the ceiling and never come down. I can breathe deep, even with the slight twinge of pain in my ribs, and I smile. He’s gone. He’s dead. I killed him. And, I realize with no small amount of shock, I’d do it again.

“Lydia,voyin, you’re hurt,” Caleb says, coming up to my side.

He tries to turn my face away from the dead man at my feet, but I refuse to be moved. I lower the gun to my side, carefully keeping my finger off the trigger, even as I reengage the safety. I can’t believe I can remember those simple safety steps under the weight of what I’ve done, but my training seems to have stuck better than he’d intended. Giving up on turning my face, I jump as Caleb takes my shoulders in his hands and forces me into a quarter turn, stepping close enough to block out everything else. His snickerdoodle and cedar scent pushes past the lingering tobacco in the air, and I take a deep inhale of it. Or at least I try to, because anything deeper than my normal breathing makes my ribs scream in agony. I wince and clutch at them with my free hand, and Caleb makes a sympathetic noise.

“Your shoulder, let me see that,” he urges, fingers gentle as he guides me.

I wince again as he touches the tender stripe of skin Darren managed to cut open, but my body is a tangle of confusing signals, and the pain gets lost among them. My heart is slowing bit by bit, but I don’t trust the calm. Seth is out there somewhere.

The lightness and relief disappears, as that thought crosses my mind. My body hums with newfound energy, my mind spinning back up. My heart races and I look around wildly, as if Seth is going to leap out of the shadows and attack. But no. He went out front. I need to find him before he finds my pack and… oh God, the bond breakers!

“Where’s Rhett?” I ask, suddenly, pulling away from Caleb to take a step toward the doors.

He’s about to answer when raised voices echo through the space, and I take off. I don’t know where my shoes got to, but I don’t even care. I know those voices. My pack. They’re here. Seth’s promise flashes through my mind again, and I grit my teeth as I shoulder open one of the doors leading from the ballroom to the foyer.

But my feet freeze in place as I take in the scene in front of me. Rhett is out cold in the middle of the floor, his face bloody from a wound I can’t identify. Mateo is in a heap a few yards from me, partially on his side, limbs splayed out. And Lucas is trying to get to his feet, but can’t manage it, falling onto the floor, even as he tries to crawl toward the grand staircase.

And on the stairs is Seth. His back is to me, blocking the upper body of the woman he has under him. But I don’t need to see her face to know it’s Lex, her feeble coughs and cries fading as Seth laughs.

My blood boils as I step forward. No. He won’t hurt her. Not while I have breath in my body. The instinct to protect my pack at all costs overpowers common sense, and I raise the gun to shoulder height, taking careful aim as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Mine,” I snarl under my breath, pulling the trigger twice.

---