Chapter 39

thirty-nine

TOMMAS

Watching Kit at the movies had been something else. I couldn’t stop replaying every moment, savoring every detail like a perfectly aged whiskey, so I’d never forget our first date.

Dimitri had gone all out, renting the entire theater just to keep our girl safe, but money was no object. Besides, it had been more than worth it to see her eyes light up at the size of the screen. She’d snuggled down with each of us, taking turns sitting on our laps while she hoarded a whole tub of popcorn all for herself. I’d never heard anything as cute as the growl she’d released when one of us tried to steal a bite. What she’d hoped to be a ferocious warning had us chuckling at how adorable she sounded. And her offended pout only made us howl louder.

Fuck, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed that hard.

Kit’s own tinkling laugh filtered through the night as we stepped outside, mirroring the lightness inside of me. I hadn’t felt this free in years. Maybe ever. It was one of the things I enjoyed about books—diving into new worlds and getting to escape the heaviness of real life. But I found myself reading for an entirely different reason now, simply to see the range of emotions that crossed my mate’s face when I read to her. It amazed me how engrossed she became in the story. She went on a journey with the characters, experienced their pain or their anger or their happiness alongside them as the words on the page brought them to life.

It had quickly become my favorite activity, though studying Kit while she watched a movie was a close second.

Though she was protectively tucked under Marco’s arm as we left the theater, I could still feel the warmth of her small body pressed against mine, the scent of her signature mingling with the buttery aroma of popcorn. I inhaled deeply, drawing her addictive fragrance deep into my lungs. There was something different about it, something that had changed and become more complex. It was the same earthy moss and floral moonflowers—but it was spicier somehow. Deeper, darker facets that made me want to bury my nose in the crux of her neck to get a more direct hit.

My cock stirred, reacting naturally to her signature. And that’s when it dawned on me—her heat was drawing closer, her scent becoming richer, some notes emerging more prominently as her hormones shifted. I wondered if my brothers had noticed the shift yet. Regardless, we needed to discuss preparations. We’d need food for days, and there were a shit ton of things to do to set up her nest. Hell, she hadn’t even seen the Omega suite. The one time we’d brought it up, she’d refused to go in. But that had to change. And fast.

As if Kit could sense my growing distress, she slipped her hand into mine, her fingers weaving with my own. Her gaze never left Marco as he finished a story about some shenanigans we got up to in our youth, but she gave me a squeeze, sensing what I needed before I’d even figured it out for myself. That was the power of a bond. A scent match.

Gio scanned the parking lot as we moved down the sidewalk, but I could tell that while his eyes weren’t on our girl, he was hyper aware of her, his body attuned to hers, fully in her orbit. Marco waved animatedly as he finished telling his tale, and Kit giggled, snorting at the end endearingly. Even Dimitri was smiling like a damn fool, and it wasn’t in reaction to the story.

It was her. The smile on her face, the gleaming amusement in her eyes, the color in her cheeks.

Everything our fathers had ever shared about what it was like to find your Omega had been true.

Now that I had Kitania, there was nothing that would keep us apart.

Especially since D told us she’d agreed to bond. I couldn’t fucking wait to make this connection between us official.

This woman? She was mine. Forever.

A sound cracked through the air, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. One second, Kit’s melodic laugh surrounded me; the next, it morphed into a shocked cry of pain.

Blood blossomed across her arm as we all moved in unison, our training and instincts taking over. We formed a human barricade around her, our bodies tensed and ready to absorb any further assault. Gio shoved Kit down, his massive frame curling over her like a living shield.

“You got her?” Marco’s voice was sharp, urgent.

“Go!” Dimitri barked, and Marco took off at a sprint toward the car. The engine roared to life within seconds, tires shrieking as he swung the vehicle around, jumping the curb to meet us on the sidewalk.

We moved as one, hustling Kit into the backseat with swift, practiced motions. The doors slammed shut, and we were on the road in a flash, the city a blur of neon and asphalt whipping past as Marco drove like a demon possessed.

“What the fuck!” Gio roared while Dimitri and I frantically patted down our trembling mate, checking for injuries and trying to see where the bullet hit.

“I-it’s my arm.” Her voice was shaky, pinched and pained, her breath coming in ragged pants.

Her palm peeled away, covered in hot, sticky blood. The sight of crimson staining her pretty sweater along her bicep made me want to vomit.

My Omega was hurt. Shot.

Someone had fucking shot her.

My vision went hazy at the edges as a rage the likes I’d never experienced hit me like a freight train—hard, fast, and all at once.

Dimitri was already on his phone, the notes a low, dangerous growl as he spoke to the person on the other end. “We’ll be there in five.” He hung up abruptly, barking out, “Doc’s at the club.”

A car horn blasted as Marco wrenched the wheel and took a corner so hard the vehicle listed sideways, but speed limits were irrelevant. Every second counted. Every drop of her blood that soaked into her clothes was a ticking clock. What if the bullet hit an artery? What if she bled out?

“Tommy!” Dimitri called, and I realized it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.

“Yeah,” I rasped, blinking rapidly to bring myself back.

“Doc said to make a tourniquet and apply it above the gunshot wound.”

This. This was something I could do. Swallowing thickly, I reached for Kit and quickly found the tear at the center of the growing red stain, the place the bullet had pierced. I ripped it open, inspecting the injury the best I could in the dark interior of the car. Hands covered with her blood, tore a section off the bottom of my shirt, then bound it high on her bicep.

Déjà vu hit me square in the chest. Our roles had been reversed the night we met, and fuck what I wouldn’t give to have taken that bullet for her. To save her this pain. This agony.

Her whimpered groan sliced at my heart. I’d done that. I’d made her pain worse. And yet, it was a necessary evil to try and stop the bleeding.

“We’re almost there,” Marco shouted from the front, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Kit’s face was a mask of shock, her lips pale and trembling. She wasn’t crying—she was too far gone for that—but the misery in her eyes was enough to flay me alive. This was supposed to be a perfect night, and now...

“We need to add compression,” Giovanni said, pulling his shirt off and pressing the balled-up fabric against Kit’s wound.

She flinched and let out another small, tortured whimper. The sound made my fists clench so tightly I thought my bones would snap.

Blood beaded on Kit’s lip as she bit into it hard enough to break the skin, all in an attempt to curb her agony. “Who knew getting shot would hurt so much?” She tried to joke, but it fell horribly flat. “I-I’m okay. I promise. It just… hurts. I don’t think it’s life threatening.”

“Doctor. Now.” It was all Dimitri could manage, his Alpha so close to the surface each word was a clipped bark.

The vehicle skidded to a stop outside the back entrance of the club. Marco didn’t bother parking properly; he left the car sitting haphazardly where it was, engine running as we all piled out. As one, we moved with a level of coordination that came from years of operating as a pack. Gio cradled Kit in his arms, her small frame looking even more fragile against his hulking, muscular build. Her blood smeared against his skin, and though he’d been careful not to jostle her too much, a wince pinched her features. She was biting her lip again, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill over.

The Raven, a popular nightclub owned and operated by Dimitri, was one of our strongholds, a place where we could let our guard down—at least a little. While the primary space was dedicated to public use, the back rooms were for ‘family’ only. Tonight, it seemed quieter than usual, but still buzzing with the low hum of conversation, clinking glassware, and music.

All eyes turned to us when we burst through the doors, sending immediate tension through everyone inside. Our last name automatically garnered us respect, but it was our calmness under pressure, our level heads, and our adept leadership that kept it. Seeing us like this—desperate, disheveled—had to be a shocking sight.

“Get out of the fuckin’ way,” Giovanni growled, his voice cutting through the room like a hot knife through butter.

The crowd parted as we rushed through, making a beeline for the largest table in the joint. Dimitri cleared it with a violent swipe of his arm, sending everything clattering to the ground. The doctor was already there, pulling supplies from the medical bag he always kept with him. Gio gently laid Kit on the tabletop, her eyes fluttering shut from the sheer exhaustion of pain.

“Don’t sleep,” I commanded, taking her hand. “Just hold on, Butterfly. We’re going to get you patched up in no time.”

Doc examined her wound with quick, practiced motions. “Good job on the tourniquet. It looks like a clean through and through,” he said, more to himself than to us. “It’s bleeding heavily, but she’s lucky. No major vessels hit.”

Relief washed over me in a nauseating wave, but it was short-lived. Doc continued, “I need to sanitize the wound and do my best to repair the damage before stitching her up. She’ll also require a tetanus shot. Who has the strongest stomach?”

“I do,” lied Dimitri. While he had no problem with blood and gore in a general sense, we all knew deep down he hated when someone he cared about was injured.

Being lead Alpha, he took our protection and wellbeing personally. On some level, that was who he was as the oldest brother—a leader, a provider, a protector. But the responsibility he felt grew after Mom died. D had stepped in and looked after us when our dads couldn’t—too lost to their grief.

“Bullshit,” Marco challenged with a shake of his head. Like me, he seemed to pick up on how close D was to the edge. One cry from Kit and the man would lose his carefully honed composure. “I’m always the one to patch up Tommy and Gio after a sparring session or a fight. I’ll do it.”

Doc eyed us warily. “Maybe I should find someone else to assist me. An Omega’s scent during high levels of pain can trigger her Alphas’ protective instincts.”

Understatement of the year, buddy. But I knew he was walking a fine line between being respectful of us and our position and warning us to hold it together. We couldn’t lose our shit. Not now. Not yet. The last thing we wanted was to hurt Kit worse—and going into an Alpha fueled rage would only prolong getting her the care she needed.

That was enough for me to rein it in.

Glancing between us, he continued, “If one of you loses control—”

“We won’t fucking lose control,” Dimitri snapped.

Doc raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Marco and instructed my brother on how he could help while he prepared a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. “First, I’ll numb the area and give her something to slow the bleeding before cleaning the wound. It’s not a miracle. She’ll likely experience some discomfort. You need to hold her still.”

I moved back, allowing them room to work. Marco helped Doc with steady hands, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with grim focus. We all watched in tense silence while Doc cut Kitania’s sleeve off before injecting the area around the wound, explaining each step in meticulous detail to keep our inner Alphas calm. Kit’s breaths were shallow and rapid, her chest rising and falling like a frightened bird’s. Her eyes were pinched, her lips a tight, bloodless line. Tears dripped down her temples, dampening her hair.

“That should take effect in a few minutes,” Doc promised, then peered at Marco. “I need you to apply pressure to slow the bleeding while I prep the suture kit. I won’t sugar-coat it. It’s going to hurt her.”

My brother paled, but nodded once. I could see the conflict in his eyes as his doc handed him a stack of gauze to use. He wanted to be gentle, but he also knew half measures wouldn’t cut it.

“Need me to step in?” I offered, a little queasy about the idea of how much pain this might cause her. But I’d do it because, in the end, it was for her own good.

“Hold on, Angel. This will all be over soon.” With a pleading, silent apology in his eyes, he did what Doc had instructed.

Kit’s cry ripped a low, rage-induced growl from my throat. I turned away, unable to handle the overwhelming combination of her visible agony and the sound of her suffering, which threatened to shatter my self-control. My hands fisted so hard I could’ve crushed diamonds to dust.

My Alpha was on the edge, and I was about to lose it.

“Here.” Enzo approached and held out a bottle of vodka. “Have her drink some of this. Maybe it’ll help with the pain.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Doc conceded.

Grabbing the bottle, I brought it to Kit’s lips. “Can you drink a little, Butterfly?”

Weakly, she tried to lift her head, and I helped support her so she could swallow. She spluttered and coughed as the alcohol burned its way down her throat, and a derisive scoff had all of us freezing in place.

“This is the Omega? Pathetic little thing can’t even protect herself, let alone handle a little pain.” The mocking voice belonged to one of our men—Alec, a surly middle-aged Alpha who’d always been loyal to our dads but hadn’t hidden his displeasure in the upcoming regime change. He was on my short list of assholes to watch. Something about him had always rubbed me the wrong way, and I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to cause trouble for us when we finally took over.

I handed the bottle to D, and I knew he caught the psychotic glint entering my eyes. That familiar veil dropped over me, the dangerous side of myself slipping into place. I didn’t let this part out often, but when I did, there was hell to pay.

“Check yourself,” I warned, not bothering to hide the absolute disdain that dripped from the words.

“I’m just sayin’. That’s barely a fucking gunshot wound. Talk to me when she has to have the fuckin’ thing dug out of her chest .” He tugged his neckline aside, showing off the scar from his last run-in with a bullet.

My hand was already on my gun, my aggression needing an outlet. That Alec was giving me an excuse to get a little violent was convenient. I aimed the barrel at his heart.

“If you don’t shut your fucking face, I’ll finish the job that one started,” I spat, eyeing his scar pointedly.

He held his hands up in a show of surrender, but the sneer contorting his features didn’t jibe with the gesture. “She doesn’t have what it takes to make it in this family. Our queen should be someone who earns our respect. Not some pretty little cunt who can’t deal with a boo boo.”

“She was fucking shot , you jackass,” Enzo snarled, getting into Alec’s face. Keeping his eye on the asshole, he addressed Dimitri. “Want me to take out the trash?”

D’s voice was filled with fury. “Get him out of my fuckin’ sight.” His attention shifted, death glare fixating on Alec. “Say another disparaging word about my Omega and you won’t live long enough to regret it. This is your first and last warning. You’d do well to heed it.”

With a jerk of his head, D sent Enzo into motion, our enforcer dragging the cocksucker outside to give him an ‘attitude adjustment.’ Only when they were out of sight did I lower the gun.

“Well, as entertaining as that was, I’d like to fix your Omega now,” Doc said wryly.

Kit’s whine brought me back, and the haze of red receded.

With Marco assisting, Doc stitched her up from the inside out. I had to look away, focusing on the shattered glass and spilled drinks on the floor. The mix of alcohol and broken shards created a shimmering, volatile puddle, primed and ready to explode with the smallest spark. That’s what we were right now—an explosive mixture of anger, fear, and helplessness, all set to detonate with one wrong move.

Kit’s whimpers and the soft murmur of Marco’s apologies were almost too much to bear. I wanted to tell her she was the bravest person I’d ever known, that she have to be this strong, that it was okay to scream if she needed to. But I stayed silent, knowing that any words from me might just push the rest of us over the edge.

Doc finished up and wiped his brow. “The worst is over.”

Was it? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Marco stepped back, his hands shaking ever so slightly. He flexed his fingers, probably trying to work out the tension. Blood stained his palms, contrasting with how white his face had become.

“She needs time to heal, but she should be much better in a few weeks. I’d like to monitor her to make sure she doesn’t develop an infection, and I believe it would be best to dose her preemptively with antibiotics,” Doc instructed. But I let it all fall away, trusting my brothers to deal with the details while I moved back to Kit’s side.

I took her small, pale hand in mine. The blood had drained from her skin, leaving her ashen and fragile. An uncomfortable knot formed in my chest, a mix of guilt and something deeper, more primal. We were supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. How could we let this happen?

“Kit,” I whispered, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused—probably from the pain and shock. I stroked her hand, willing some of my warmth into her. “You were so brave.”

Dimitri loomed over us, his expression unreadable. He’d always been the best at hiding his true feelings, at keeping his Alpha nature in check. The man thrived on control, but even he looked ready to tear someone apart.

Maybe himself.

“Let’s get her home,” D said, his voice rough with the effort it took to stay composed.

Gio carefully lifted Kitania into his arms, and we made our way to the car. The drive back to the penthouse was a tense, silent affair. Each of us lost in our thoughts, our fears, our plans for revenge.

As we walked through the front door, Gio angled for the elevator, hitting a button that would bypass Kit’s bedroom, taking us directly to the third floor instead. I hurried past him when we emerged and opened the doors to our Omega suite. A massive bed sat along the far wall, stretching the full length of it. I pulled back the covers, and my brother set our girl down before propping a pillow under her arm to give it a little elevation and keep her from rolling onto it in her sleep.

“She’s stable now,” Giovanni murmured as he withdrew. All of us focused on the exhausted Omega nestled in our pack bed—right where she belonged. “But we can’t take any chances. We can keep her home, where it’s safe, but we need to end this.”

The tension in the room was palpable, each of us caught between the drive for vengeance and the need to care for Kit. We were all on edge, our Alpha instincts pulling us in conflicting directions.

But Gio was right.

This needed to end. I couldn’t bear the thought of Kitania in the crosshairs.

Not again.

Not fucking ever.

I tore my focus from our Omega and placed it squarely on my brothers. “Anyone got a plan?”