12. Twelve - Tate

twelve - tate

. . .

Somehow, I knew she wouldn't be where I left her when I went to get us drinks, but I didn't expect her to run. Fear and anger permeate the bond between us. Guess I should care, but the fucked up, jaded part of me doesn't. She's mine now. There is no changing it as much as her little heart desires.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I log into my app, and what I see on the screen turns my blood cold. Her room is destroyed. The sheets on her bed are shredded. Bras and panties haphazardly thrown on the floor are also shredded. A few pairs are crumbled together, and I zoom in, noticing there's a shiny, creamy substance on the outside of them.

Did this fucking freak use my mates' underwear to get himself off? Apparently, he has a death wish, and I'd be more than happy to grant that for him.

Pulling up all the different camera angles, I look for my mate, but she's either not there yet or she's not in the vicinity of a camera, at least.

Backing up the footage, I finally find what I'm searching for. I zoom in for a better view. A tall, what I'm assuming is a man, steps into her room. He's dressed in black with a ski mask. I shake my head. How cliché. It seems like he doesn't know where to start because he paces between her bed and closet several times.

Appearing to decide on the bed, he leans down and pulls a knife from the boots he's wearing and flips the blade out. It glints in the moonlight, streaming through her window. He wheels back with an arm and just starts shredding her sheets, no remorse. No second thoughts. Then he follows it by stabbing into the pillows, one by one, carefully macerating them so they won't have a purpose any longer.

When he's finished, he heads back over to her dresser and starts pulling her clothes out, piece by piece, and slicing them down the front. I watch him work. It's like he's done this before. He sticks mainly to the shadows as he moves. The more I observe, the more I wonder who he is. He's definitely not Brad Clark. This guy is definitely an alpha; his frame is too big to be a beta.

He finds her laundry basket in the corner of her room and pulls out a pair of panties, dark colored from the looks of it. I watch as this bastard lifts them to his nose, and his eyes close in ecstasy as he inhales deeply like a demented fucker. Like something I would do. Well, I've done it. But he doesn't deserve to smell her sweet perfume. Only I do. She is mine.

A growl slips out, and my hands clench. What the fuck?

"Dude, what's up?" I hear Gunnar's voice from behind me. I didn't even realize he'd been standing there.

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to my phone. "Shit, you got a second home I don't know about?"

A frustrated sigh puffs out. "No, it's my mate's."

His eyes widen comically. "You have a mate? Why the fuck you been hiding it?"

I quirk a brow at the same time my lips curve into a devilish grin. "Haven't. Just happened tonight."

He smirks. "Nice. Glad I could help ya out with the theme night, brother. So, who's your friend?" He tips his head towards my phone. I'm glad he doesn't ask more questions… like why I have a camera in my mates house or why I'm spying on her.

It's like we're all fully aware that some of us are worse than others, but no one ever really talks about it. Some of us have odd kinks and weird shit, but we always have each others backs.

"Nope, but he's about to know me. And personally, I can't fucking wait to introduce myself." I'm sure the smile broadening my lips is evil incarnate, and I don't care. I live for the thrill of being someone's pain, someone's torment. Oh, the many things I could do to our little friend here.

"Gunnar?" I hear Nova's voice over my shoulder. "What's going on?"

Before I can respond, she's grabbing my phone from my hand, anger paints her face in a pink hue. "What the fuck is this? This is my fucking house. Who is that? And where the hell is Rebel? I've been looking for her for ten minutes." Her eyes continue to roam the room, looking for her bestie, as if, suddenly, she's going to pop up from thin air like some sort of damn genie. "Just so you know… after we make sure she's okay, we're going to have a conversation about why you've set up cameras in my house."

Ignoring her comment, I go on to speak. "She's not here. I left her right over there," I nod to the doorway to the kitchen, "to get drinks, and she bounced. Believe me, I'm not thrilled. She's putting herself in danger, walking around like she isn't an omega who smells like the best damn pie you've ever eaten. Fuck this. I need to go." Shoving my phone into my pocket, I start heading toward the door like a man on a fucking rescue mission.

"W-where are you going?" Nova questions me.

"With you, obviously." I roll my eyes at her. Is she serious right now? "That guy clearly has something against m-my Rebel." I almost say mate, but I resist. I want Rebel to tell her when she feels comfortable about it. But I also want her to tell her right damn now. I want to claim my mate and make sure that everyone knows she's mine. I'm a fucking animal, and you best believe I'm going to act like one. "I plan to find out exactly what it is he's looking for, and swear to God, if she makes it home while he's still there, I will kill that motherfucker without a second goddamn thought. You can trust that. I just have to grab something real quick."

My feet pad quickly across the floor as I stroll towards the kitchen in search of the object of my desire. The expression on her face when I return is part concern, part curiosity. Holding up the item, I wiggle it at her. "Never can be too safe."

She nods, biting her bottom lip as if she's still thinking it over. Fine, she can think it over, and while she does that, I'll be going to find Rebel.

My eyes roam over Nova's face. If I hadn't met Rebel, I might've said that she's a gorgeous beta, but I do have Rebel, who is exquisite. Nova doesn't hold a candle to my omega. Now, I just need my omega to understand that she's mine and she needs to make better decisions. This one is not one of them.

I'm going to start a list for her: no running, no backtalk, no putting herself in danger, no drinking. And… I sound like a tyrant, but my give a fucks are busted.

The mere thought of painting her luscious ass red with my handprints has my cock rising to the occasion. I shift, trying to hide the boner I'm sporting in front of my mates best friend.

"Let's go," I growl at Nova, who scurries to catch up.

Gunnar squares his shoulders. "I'm coming, too." A vacant look consumes his eyes. He's remembering what happened to his sister.

He didn't make it there in time. A regret he will harbor for the rest of his life. The knowledge of what was done to her shadows their relationship to this day. We can only speculate without the truth. The only people who will know were the ones in that very basement when it occurred.

I recoil with a shudder as nausea builds from the mere thought of Rebel in that situation. I may be fucked up, but I'd never do that to a woman unless she begged me for it.

We all pile into Gunnar's BMW. I beat Nova to the passenger side door to ride shotgun, and when I turn to raise my eyebrows at her, she shrugs and goes to open the backdoor, grabbing the handle and opening it before ducking inside.

"So, what exactly is the plan here, Tate? You're the mastermind," he asks me, throwing the car into gear and speeding off down the road faster than is legal. He knows the importance of getting there as quickly as possible.

I give him an irritated sigh. "Whatever it takes."

He gives me a singular nod. He gets it. "I've got a bag in the spare tire well. Should have everything we need." I pull the blade from my pocket and flip it open. I let my finger drag over the tip of it, cutting my finger just enough that blood streams down it. It hurts like fuck, but the pain helps bring me back down to reality; keeping me centered.

I don't want to make them an accessory to murder tonight, but I won't hesitate to do it, either. Rebel is more important to me than both of them combined. I'd burn the world to the ground if I had to just to make sure she's safe.

I'll get them out of there if shit goes downhill. I shake my head. I can't kill him. If I do that, then my mate is left unprotected, and hell will freeze over before I allow that to happen.

We'd be like fucking Romeo and Juliet. She's my fucking other half, my soul, and if she dies, I swear, I'm plunging myself right into the depths of hell beside her. Or maybe I'm sneaking into heaven? Either way…

The sound of Nova's voice from the backseat grabs my attention, but she's not talking to us. I turn slightly and notice the cell phone held to her ear.

"Hey, girl. Where are you? I've been looking everywhere."

She's quiet as she listens to whatever my mate is saying to her through the line.

"Yeah, hold on." She catches my attention and lifts her first finger against her lips, telling me to stay quiet. My head dips in understanding. "Okay, what's going on, Rebel. You've got me worried. Wait, are you drunk? Your speech is a little slurred."

An audible sigh fills the space around us. "Tell me what's wrong?"

"Um, no?" She says as a question. "Rebel… you're really weirding me out. Just tell me what the fuck happened. Where are you? Why did you leave? I thought we were leaving together." She sounds hesitant with her words this time.

She gasps, and the blood drains from her face. Every strand of hair stands up on the back of my neck. "What the fuck? Why are you there? What if they come back?" She rapid-fires the questions at Rebel.

"Shit. Don't move. I'm on my way now."

Reaching back, I shake her leg, mouthing for her to hand over the phone. I'm trying to be nice for the sake that she's Rebels best friend, but if she doesn't turn it over soon, I'll shatter. My mate is in danger, and the only thing this alpha sees is a mere beta standing between us.

He says to eliminate the threat. Reasonably, I know that's not the case, but he's pounding against my chest, demanding action.

"Let me talk to her," I growl at Nova, and it reverberates through the space, sounding fucking deadly. Gunnar growls at me in return. I get it, believe me. But, fuck … I shove a hand through my hair and pull as I hold the other out, trying to calmly demand the phone. The tinge of pain grounds the madness swirling in my brain.

She presses her lips together as her brows furrow. Her voice comes out in a tremulous tone. "No. What the hell, Tate. She won't want to talk to you."

I cast her a glowering stare. "Don't care. She needs to talk to me whether she wants to or not. I can feel her emotions from here." She finally concedes and hands over the phone. "Tell me what's going on, Rebel."

"Don't worry ‘bout me, Tate. You sssshhhoulldn't have to worry. E'rythings good heere." She slurs, but I'm still caught on the fact that she managed to figure out my name since she ran from me. Later, I tell myself.

"I'm coming over." It's a demand, not a request. I try to use a carefully controlled tone, but even I can hear the anger and violence coursing through it.

An empty laugh greets my ears. "You're a bastard. Don't need y-you…" Her breath hitches… lie.

The slurring slips deeper into the void, and I can only imagine how drunk she is right now. She wasn't when she left, which means in the last hour, all she's done is drink. Another stupid decision. She's racking up punishments left and right tonight. My teeth grind. "I can't understand you, Rebel. We're almost there. You made sure he was gone, right?"

Placing my hand over the microphone, I turn to Gunnar. "Park down here." I point to the street in front of us. "She says he's gone, but she's also fucking drunk." There's grit in the tone of my voice.

His lips flatten in disapproval. I get it; feeling the same damn way.

"I can understand myself just fine, so that's on him. Why the hell does he have to be so pretty?" Rebel's sweet voice pours through the phone like the sweetest honey. My dick rises, reminding me how good she tastes, too. Shaking my head, I attempt to rid myself of those thoughts.

I take the opportunity to respond to her because I'm guessing she had no intention of actually saying that out loud. "Now, that I understand. Glad you like the way I look, my little mouse."

She squeaks, "Bbye." The next thing I hear is the unmistakable click of her hanging up on me. Strike three.

Gunnar slows down and parks a couple of streets away from the house so we can sneak up on it without alerting anyone unsavory to our presence before it's absolutely necessary. I can't trust her mind right now to believe that she's all alone. He could be prowling around outside the house, waiting until she gets even more inebriated. She wouldn't have a damn clue. This is why you don't drink when you're put in these situations.

Gunnar and I step out onto the sidewalk and shuffle around to the trunk. The lock clicks as the hatch opens. Pulling the tire well up, I see a small duffle bag shoved in the back corner.

I should've just loaded the app and looked to see if he was gone, but I've been too preoccupied with trying to just get here and not lose my shit. If my alpha was a bull, he'd be going to town in a China shop full of glass; pounding a heavy beat against my chest.

Emotions trickle down our bond, and I feel them out for any sort of enlightenment. There's not a lot of fear and a part of her seems very relaxed. So he's either gone or the alcohol is drowning out the sensibility. It's probably been an hour since I left her standing by the kitchen. A lot can fucking happen in sixty goddamn minutes. I'm going to have my work cut out for me over the next week if he's already gone. Tracking down this fucker so he can see the error in his ways will be a delightful treat.

Pulling a Ruger out, he sticks it in the waistband of his pants and nods that he's ready. Not exactly the smartest idea, but I'll take it. The car door creaks open, and Nova steps out.

"Fuck, no. You're not fucking going in there."

Throwing her hands on her hips like she's an obstinate five-year-old, she huffs indignantly. "She's my friend. You can't stop me."

He gives her a wicked grin. "You remember what we did with the handcuffs earlier? I can make it happen for you again." Her cheeks brighten in embarrassment, and she stops making eye contact. "Get back in the car. I promise I will come and get you when we're sure it's safe."

I growl, grabbing their attention. "My mate could be in there with a psycho, we can have this discussion literally any other time!" I turn away and storm off, heading towards the house. With each step, my breathing gets more ragged. My alpha is bursting at the seams.

"Did he just say mate?" I hear Nova whisper before the car door opens, and she's unceremoniously shut in the car again. He opens his door and cracks the window like she's some sort of dog who can't stay in a hot car. Even though its barely above fucking seventy degrees out today.

Jesus , he's fucking beta whipped. Amusement chortles out of me in the form of a laugh. Why the fuck am I wasting my time worrying about these two nutheads?

My feet have just hit the welcome mat by the time Gunnar catches up with me. The keys rattle an ungodly noise as I shove them in the door. The locks disengage, and a warm sort of peace flows through my body. That's got to be a good sign.

Time does linger long before I've found my mate; her curvy little body sits on the couch, limbs boneless as her head lays back. Snores whisper in the air around her, a soft lullaby of tone. She looks more frayed than she did an hour ago, and the shadows below her eyes seem to have grown.

The desire to strip her down and check every inch of her body to make sure she's okay festers inside me, but I won't do that in front of Bert and Ernie over there, who are currently watching me with a weary eye.

Leaning down, I slip a hand behind her back and under her knees to lift her into my arms. The bottle she's been drinking rolls out from where she was sitting, and my stomach drops. She drank the whole thing?

My eyes trail to her best friend. "Nova… how full was this bottle the last time you had any?"

Her brows furrow. "Um… we'd maybe had one or two shots out of it. Do you…think she drank it all by herself?"

Looking over her shoulder, I direct my next words to Gunnar. "All of it needs to go. Every last bottle."

She tilts her head to the side. "Huh? What do you mean?"

I don't answer her. He can give her the bad news. Rebel needs to get this alcohol out of her system. She may hate me for what I'm about to do, but who knows how long that freak was here and what all he managed to tamper with along the way.

Her body curls into mine, seeming to crave the comfort I can provide her, as I walk down the hall towards the bathroom.

Her eyes widen, and she throws a hand in front of her mouth as I misstep and jostle her. "Fink I'm gonsta be sick…"

Bringing my nose to the top of her head, I ruminate in her apple pie scent. It's calming. "Come on, let's get you to the bathroom." She drowsily nods her affirmation.

"You smell so yummy…" Then a few seconds later, she says something that has a chuckle rumbling out of my chest. "But he does smell so good."

Nova giggles. "Is she talking to herself?"

"Yep."

Rebel curls her delicate fingers into my shirt, her omega is craving an anchor only I can provide. Golden eyes look up at me as she takes in her surroundings. "Ya know we passed my room?"

I sigh, not wanting to voice the thoughts in my head. "I know. You aren't going to like what I'm about to do to you, but it needs to happen. Alcohol poisoning is the last thing you need, and you're way too small for the ungodly amount you drank."

She frowns at me. "Whaa…" The words cut off as I set her down in front of the toilet. All the color drains from her face.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for what comes next. Reaching out, I let my thumb caress her bottom lip briefly before I'm prying her mouth open and shoving my finger down her throat. She gags, trying to fight me, but it's no use.

My next words slip out as a grumble. "I'm trying to help you."

Her stomach contracts the farther back my fingers go, and a minute later, she's losing all of the contents of her stomach.

I stroke her back and hold her hair as she pukes. Right now, at this moment, all I want to do is take care of her. That mere thought tells me that whatever this is between us is real because even before I marked her, I felt compelled to her like a vampire to fresh blood.

Eventually, it's only dry heaving into the toilet, and then she's slumped over the toilet. Her right arm wraps around the toilet seat, and I take a minute to look at the intricate design of the tattoo on her arm. Lifting her arm sleeve, I see that it runs the whole way up to her shoulder. What is the significance of this tattoo for it to be so large.

Did she just like the flowers or is this a memorial to something or someone?

I stand up and grab a washcloth to clean off her face.

Her teeth could use a good brush later, too. Not wanting her to be dehydrated when she wakes, I ask her to take a sip or two of the water bottle someone had dropped off on the counter in the bathroom next to headache meds.

Running my hands over her clammy forehead, I move them down to her cheeks, pulling her to me. "I need you to take a sip, Rebel. Even if you don't want to. I can't promise you won't have a hell of a hangover in the morning, but this has to be better than nothing.

The water bottle cracks as she takes a drink of it, and I watch the dip of her throat with each delicate swallow she takes.

Rebel rubs at her eyes with tiny hands, fighting to stay awake, but I know she's exhausted. I want to stay the night to watch over her. She can't stay here any longer. I will remedy that in due time.

A yawn escapes, and I know it's time for her to rest. I slip one hand under her knees and the other at the small of her back. Bending at the knees, I lift her into my arms. She weighs practically nothing, and as soon as she's in my arms, her body is once again curling into me.

Her eyes blink open a few times on the way to her room, but it's not consistent. She collapses into the mattress as soon as I set her down, and then I turn to survey my surroundings in the light.

Boring beige walls, a queen-size wooden sleigh bed, her dresser, desk, and a nightstand. The window to the outside is cracked. Giving one more look to Rebel, I make sure she won't fall off the bed if I go check out the window.

For the second time tonight, she's asleep, snoring softly. Around the bottom corner of the bed, I run into the shredded bedding from the break in. I grimace at it like the sheets are offensive. "Fuck." Just knowing some pervert was in her room has me seeing red.

My name slips, whispered, from between her lips, drawing my attention back to the bed. "Tate." Her eyes aren't open, but she's saying my name in her sleep. I love hearing my name on her tongue.

"Sleep, Rebel. You're okay. We can talk about things tomorrow before I bend you over my knee and make that ass red with my finger prints. What you did, staying here tonight, was reckless. The fact that you tried to have Nova lie to us about it was even worse. Whether you fucking like it or not, you are my damn responsibility, and I do not take that lightly. So, you will obey me. You will behave. And you will not put yourself in compromising situations like you did tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she mumbles at me, and I can only picture the eye roll that would accompany it had her eyes been open.

Grabbing her chin, I force her to look at me. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now sleep." Her eyes slide closed, almost on command.

I am the only fucking fallen pervert of an angel allowed in this room.

As I creep closer to the window, I start to see the marks where the intruder used some sort of pry bar to open it. I make a mental note to either move her out as soon as possible or install the best fucking security system money can buy, but I have a feeling I'd still spend most of my time here.

She needs rest. No matter how much I want to crawl into bed beside her and fuck her while she sleeps, I can't. There's been enough emotional violation of her being tonight. Just this once, I will refrain.

I pull off her shirt first, and then her pants before dragging the new sheets up and over her legs. I slip my own shirt over my head and down her body. Inhaling deeply, she moans and pulls the cotton material to her nose. My alpha puffs in pride, watching our omega crave our scent.

She dozes off, this time, not waking when I touch her. Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead. Sleep well, mate .

As I'm closing the door to her room, I'm shoved in the arm. "Why the fuck did you mark her?" The angry glare of her best friend greets me.

"Because she's fucking mine," I growl.

Her hands have found her hips, and she sticks one out to the side in that typical annoyed woman pose. "You had no right. You're a dirty bastard for doing that without her permission because I know damn well she probably didn't give it to you. She's not reckless like that."

I cock a grin at her, full of evil. "Can't change it now, can we? Like I said before, she's mine, and if I had my way, she'd already be living with me, so just chill out."

An audible gasp greets my ears like she's aggrieved at my pompous attitude. Sorry, sweetheart.

Walking away from her, I make eye contact with Gunnar, who looks like he's trying so fucking hard to keep his shit together. A grin threatens to break free, but then his eyes search behind me for Nova, and the corners of his mouth fold down.

See , fucking beta whipped.

My feet stop beside the leather couch, where I found Rebel when we came in, and I grab a blanket from the back, preparing to lie down.

"You're not staying here." That feral glare is back as I look at Nova's face.

"Okay, I'll make it easy. You let me sleep in peace on this couch here tonight…"

"Or…"

"Or I'll go grab Rebel now, and we can go to my place. Think very carefully about your answer. You don't know me, and you clearly don't trust me. Do you want me to be alone with your friend, passed out drunk, and not able to fight back?"

"Ughh! You're a…a…" I raise an eyebrow, watching as her face reddens, while she sputters over her response. "Bastard."

I tap my chin, trying to look thoughtful. "Pretty sure you already used that word tonight… couldn't come up with a better one?"

"You make me want to fucking scream!" She huffs, and then storms off to her room.

My eyes find Gunnar, and I nod to the door. "Go on. I'll stay, make sure no one bothers them."

He ambles towards me, shaking his head. "Nah, might as well have a fucking sleep over. Just don't do any weird kinky shit to me if I sleep out here."

I snort. "Fuck you, man. Wouldn't touch you even if you happened to be the last person on Earth. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but dicks are not my style."

"Dude… so serious. It was a fucking joke." My head dips in a nod, and then I'm laying down on the couch and pulling a blanket over my legs. I watch as Gunnar mimics my movements, but then hops back up. "Gotta go drain the snake. Be back."

Unsurprisingly, Gunnar never returns from the bathroom after the toilet flushes. About fifteen minutes later, the bed, in what I'm assuming is Nova's room, starts to rattle a low clank, clank, clank against the wall. A chuckle slips out. Guess I know what they're doing.