The halls behind me howled with death.
But none of it touched me.
Because all I could feel was him.
Nine.
The bond was still open, barely. Thin like frayed silk, clinging with desperate fingers. It wasn't panic anymore. It was something colder.
Resignation.
I stopped mid-step, heart slamming hard against my ribs. My claws slid out fully now, tips dragging lightly against the wall as I turned toward the northern wing.
He was still bound. Still breathing. Still trying to reach me.
But he wasn't alone.
There were others. Not creatures. Men.
I don't know how I knew it. Just a presence—three of them—looming heavy, waiting. They were speaking. Laughing.
Waiting their turn.
The words didn't come clearly through the bond. Only shapes. Smells. Moods.
Power. Greed. Hunger.
The same way predators circle a broken thing before they pick it apart.
Nyx's voice was quiet, flat. They're going to pass him around.
The world narrowed to a point of white heat.
I could barely hear the screams from the banquet anymore. My pulse drowned everything out.
He wasn't fighting them.
That was the worst part.
Nine wasn't even trying.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because he had already given up.
The bond flickered again.
Alpha... I'm sorry.
Not even a plea this time. Just shame. Just the sick twist of his soul folding in on itself, too hurt to believe I'd come for him.
I broke into a sprint.
I didn't care about the plan anymore.
Didn't care about the creatures or the chaos or the risk of being seen.
I was going to kill them.
All three.
The door to the guest chamber was closed, but I could smell it. The stink of sweat and sour anticipation. Nine's scent—damp, bruised, threaded with the sickly sweet edge of sedative.
I pressed a hand to the wall beside the door, breathing hard.
Inside, the boss's voice was gone. He must have left. Good. That made it easier.
What remained were three men. One was already speaking.
"Pretty little thing. Damn shame he's drugged out. I like a little more reaction—"
The door exploded inward before he could finish.
They barely had time to turn before I was on them.
I didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
The first man reached for his belt. I sliced his forearm open to the bone. He screamed, stumbling backward into the second, who drew a blade from his coat—too slow.
I slashed upward, catching his chest. Blood sprayed across the polished floors.
The third ran.
Coward.
I let him get three steps before I caught him by the back of the neck and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.
He slumped. Out cold.
The room reeked of piss and fear now.
They'd been eager. Hungry.
And they hadn't even noticed the way Nine trembled where he lay on the far end of the room—chained again, arms above his head, cheek pressed to the bedding, so still he could've passed for unconscious.
I crossed the room in two strides.
"Nine."
He didn't move.
His breath was shallow. Lips parted. Face flushed and wet.
I knelt beside him, brushed the hair from his forehead.
That was when the bond shifted.
Not panic now.
Just quiet wonder.
Alpha...?
His voice was like a threadbare whisper in a storm.
You came.
I touched his cheek. "I told you I would."
A pause.
Then warmth.
Flooding through the bond like a weak heartbeat finding rhythm again.
Thank you.
It was soft. So soft it almost broke me.
He didn't even ask what I did to them.
He didn't care.
All he cared about was that I'd come.
I rose slowly, breathing deep, my claws still slick with blood.
And then I looked over my shoulder at the three crumpled bodies behind me.
This wasn't over yet.
But the part where they got to breathe?
That was.