Page 29 of Running on Empty

I snatched the knife out of his hand, using the strength of my wolf to lash out, slicing once, twice into Jonesy’s face. Just shallow things, but facial cuts hurt like a fucking bitch, and he yelped in pain in response. I watched his hands slap down over the cuts, the blood seeping between his fingers, and then I turned to Ronan.

“Happy?”

He grinned then. “If you are.”

“They’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that, right?” Jonesy ground out. “They made clear that’s what they do—”

“Better get yourself some better security then,” I replied and swung my legs out of the window, dropping down into the garden beyond.

The sounds of early morning, of faraway traffic, of the garbage truck rumbling past, of birds starting to wake up, of the chirp of grasshoppers, they all sounded far better than anything I’d heard inside that room. And as I walked out into it, whatever bond of obligation I’d had with Jonesy stretched and snapped the further away I got.

“That went far better than I expected,” Ronan said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “I thought we’d get revenge, but you made a declaration of war.”

I hadn’t intended to. I hadn’t intended any of this fucking shit, yet here I was. As we strode towards the car I looked up at him.

“Well, we better get ready to fight then.”

Chapter18

Ash

“What the fuck did you do?”

The words were out of my mouth the moment Stevie and Ronan walked in and I saw Jax wince in response. I’d woken up early to find the two of them gone, and I’d roused Jax to let him know. The two of us had tried to come up with a level-headed approach and had cobbled together a response.

Too bad I went off script the minute I saw them. But that’s what happened when I saw blood on my mate’s fingers.

Because I knew that Ronan had put it there.

I caught my brother’s eyes, something inside me hardening at the sight of the green. That and the unrepentant smirk. We’d all sworn to protect Stevie from this, sacrificed so much time and… Ronan had blown all that hard work in one night.

“Are you OK, Stevie? What happened? What did he do?” Jax said, stepping forward, ever the peacemaker. He approached her oh-so-carefully, but when he reached for her hands, she held them up.

“Blood’s not mine.”

I felt a rush of the most perfect relief, my eyes unable to stop themselves from scanning her, checking to see if it was true. But it was near impossible because my brother had dressed her up like covert ops Barbie, and even if there was a trace of blood on her, I wouldn’t have noticed because the black garments showed off her every curve. I jerked my attention back to our mate, the look of belligerence on her face making my wolf pace.

He needed her, that was clear, but more than that, he needed her submission. Not absolutely. We didn’t want to rule her–the fire that burned inside her was half of what drew us to her–but she was pack. It was our job to keep all of the members of our pack safe. If Ronan did as he was told, if Stevie followed my orders, then Jax could slide in and smooth down everyone’s feathers, helping bring the individual members of our pack into a whole.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead Stevie warded Jax off like he had the plague. And Ronan? That fucker smiled at me slow and sly until my hands itched with the need to slap the smugness off him.

“It’s Jonesy’s,” I said, liking the way my omega’s eyes flared in surprise, even if it wasn’t for long. “And you two have been very busy this morning.” Ronan went to reply, to make some smartarse comment, but I charged on. “Imagine my surprise when all the alerts I have on the dark web boards started pinging like crazy, the chatter about a series of jobs exploding. The fucking Spencer pack has slapped down a few million for the man or men who can do two things.” I stared down my brother. “Kill the lot of us.” Then my focus shifted to Stevie. “And bring the omega to them. You started a war.”

Stevie’s face fell for a second, but Ronan’s didn’t. He’d no doubt fed her some bullshit story, about how much he loved her, would do anything for her, wrapping it all up in a vicious little bow.

But I knew my brother.

If we were to take him to a psychiatrist, they’d diagnose him with something. Sociopathy, psychopathy, antisocial personality disorder. Some clinical term to describe what I knew.

My brother was broken, had been born that way, and he wasn’t safe to be around anyone, let alone our omega.

I’d wanted to storm into Ronan’s room last night, Jax’s soft heart stopping me but I knew I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Because look where we were.

“Our go bags are packed and ready. Stevie will go next door with Jax and pack whatever is important to her, because god knows if it will be there when this is done. Ronan will grab Ollie and his supplies and I’ll contact our parents and family, let them know they either need to meet us at the bunker or up their security.”

“Bunker?” Stevie said, glancing around the room.

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