11. Jasmine

The plan is simple. My father's estate is too tightly patrolled for an easy extraction, so we're grabbing Violet as she comes out of school. It's a prep academy on the Upper East Side, a fortress of gray stone and state-of-the art security systems. But there's construction on the other side of the narrow street, the scaffolding and work vans forcing parents to drop off and pick up around the block. It means Violet and her security detail will be exposed for at least a couple of minutes, and Erik is confident they can be separated with a minimum of fuss. The sticking point is that Erik wants to extract her on his own, and there's no way that's happening on my watch.

"You don't know Violet," I argue as we stand around in Xavier's office. He has already said he'll be monitoring things from here, and the guys assumed I'd be content to sit by his side and watch the rescue unfold on his computer screen. But screw that. It's the first time I'll see my sister in a couple of months, and I have no intention of doing it from the safety of Xavier's office. "Look, she has a hard time trusting people, okay? If you spook her, she's going to fight you. I need to be there, so she knows you're on her side."

Erik is already dressed in black fatigues and a dark blue Henley. No bomber jacket this time, but a flak vest that looks like a souvenir from a combat zone. I can just imagine my sister's face when she sees him looming out of an alleyway. But Erik is scratching his chin, clearly nonplussed. "I've extracted dozens of omegas, Jasmine, and from a lot worse situations…"

"She's not an omega," I interrupt him, trying to keep my shudder to myself. "She's only twelve. And you don't know what she's been through." To be honest, I don't know the details either, but I can imagine. With my disappearance, the arrangement with the Sawyer Pack has fallen through and Kayden may have already called in my father's debts. He could be scrambling for new funds, or they could already be in talks to hand Violet over in my place. "Please, Xavier." There's no way I can hide my distress, and his brow crinkles with concern. "Just let me be there so she knows it's okay."

Xavier holds my gaze for a beat, his jaw flexing, then gestures to his packmate. "It's Erik's call. What do you think? Will it be safe enough?"

I turn towards the other alpha, my heart in my eyes. I haven't had much of a chance to talk to Erik, so I have no idea how to convince him to take me along other than to show him how much this means to me.

He sighs and looks me over. "Got your tracker and panic button? Your mace?"

"Yes." I take them from my pocket to show them. "I'm all set."

"You don't leave the car unless I tell you. Agreed?"

There's no way I want to be on the street with my father's security, anyway, so I nod eagerly. "Of course. You're in charge."

"Okay, but you need to wear your disguise from the other night."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "The gift wrap one?"

The corner of his mouth twitches in an almost-smile. "The last thing we need is your father's goons catching sight of you and going for you both."

"Ugh." I have a history with Jackson, my father's head of security, and it's not a pretty one. I seriously doubt he'll be involved in something as low risk as a school run, but he handpicked each goon himself, and he's just the worst of a bad bunch. "Okay. I'll wear the wig, but not the coat or the alpha scent. They won't be able to smell me in the car, so it's pointless, right?"

Erik shuffles his feet, his hands on his hips. "What happened to me being in charge?"

I give him my cheekiest smile. "I was being polite."

Casper laughs, digging me in the ribs with his elbow, and Erik's gaze slides his way. "I take it you're coming too?"

"Definitely," I reply before he can raise any objections. Casper's confidence doesn't need that right now. And besides, Casper and I are a team, and we have the pack companion contract to prove it. "He can wear a cap and sunglasses if it makes you feel better."

Erik just sighs and shakes his head. "Same rules apply. Stay in the vehicle and keep your heads down. If anything goes wrong, you let me handle it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" We chirp in chorus, earning a long-suffering look between the alphas. But I don't care if we're nudging them out of their comfort zone. In less than an hour I'll be reunited with Violet. She'll get to meet Casper, and play with Chewie, and I'll cook her the biggest stack of blueberry pancakes she's ever seen. "Let me grab my wig and we can hit the road!"

The reality is a little different though, with everything slowing down to a crawl the closer we get to Violet's school. And it's not just the tedious traffic. Erik is triple checking everything, including the intel he's getting from a team that's watching my father's estate. They're going to trail the security guys to the school, making sure there's no sudden changes to the route or the pickup point. I appreciate the caution he's taking, but I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin. If Casper wasn't holding my hand, I'm pretty sure I'd be climbing into the front of the SUV and jamming my foot down on the gas.

"We've got plenty of time." Erik says from the passenger seat. One of his guys, who he introduced as Bowie, is driving, and he gives a nod of confirmation. "We're five minutes away and her class doesn't let out for a half hour."

I try to relax, but my brain isn't my friend right now. I'm cycling through worst-case scenarios and even Casper's presence isn't calming me down. The long blonde wig itches and I can still smell the alpha scent clinging to it, agitating me further. "Did you finish the mission from the other night?" I blurt out, desperate to distract myself. "Did you shut Litchfield down, like you said you were going to?"

"He's done," Erik says shortly. "He's sitting in jail right now and he won't be getting out."

"And the omega? Stephanie, right? Xavier said you were taking her to a safe house."

Erik turns his head until I'm looking directly into his steady brown gaze. "It's the first thing we do when we arrive at a new place. Set up a safe house for future rescues. Stephanie's in Chicago right now, and as soon as she's ready, we'll find her a job and an apartment, or she can pick a new city to start fresh."

Kind of like witness protection for traumatized omegas. But I still can't wrap my head around alphas who have dedicated themselves to a mission like this. I know they're the real deal – or I wouldn't be sitting in this car, on the way to rescue my sister – but the most I've ever seen an alpha do is write a check for an omega charity. Even then, it was just because it was a tax write-off. "So, that's where you were before here? Chicago?"

"Stephanie has an aunt there, so it was an obvious choice for relocation." His gaze flicks to Casper, the skin tightening around his eyes. "But the last club we cleaned out was in Boston."

"My club," Casper says, squeezing my hand. He leans forward and touches Erik's shoulder. "Thanks again for that, by the way."

Erik's fingers briefly cover his. "No thanks necessary. I enjoyed that one more than most."

I assume he means because it brought Casper into his life, but Bowie smirks at his boss from the driving seat. "That's because you got to punch Eamonn Quinn in the face."

I raise my brows, but Erik gives the driver a hard look. "He deserved it."

"Fuck yeah, he did." Bowie is wearing wraparound shades, but his grin is so wide, there's no doubt he's highly amused. "It's just not like you to snap and get physical. Not when you can command them into puddles of submission."

Because Erik is an uber alpha, and clearly dominant enough that even club bosses cave to his will.

"Quinn was a special case," Erik replies with a glance at Casper in the rearview mirror. He's wearing a Yankees cap and a pair of dark shades and he looks completely adorable to my eyes. And the way Erik locks onto his face, it doesn't look like he's immune, either.

Bowie scratches a thumbnail over his cheek, still grinning. "Yeah, something about it got you all worked up, that's for sure."

Erik mutters something about a change in conversation, but Bowie nods at the windshield. "There's the pickup point."

We drive right past the small parking lot and circle the block, the guys back in mission mode. Erik is receiving updates through his earpiece, and I clench my hands in my lap when he relays that my father's security team is on its way. Right now, the streets are fairly quiet, but it's the calm before the storm. As soon as school lets out parents will be swarming, and even with students dawdling with their friends, I know it will happen quickly.

After completing a lap of the block, Bowie enters the lot from an alleyway. The parking area is overflow for a church, with a Krav Maga institute on one side and a florist on the other, and it's already half full. The SUV is actually good cover since it seems to be the vehicle of choice for local parents, and Bowie takes a bay directly in front of the alleyway. I'm assuming so he can reverse into it at speed if the need arises.

We sit in silence, other than the tap of Bowie's fingers on the wheel and Erik's quiet "copy" every time he gets an update. I watch the clock on the dash, counting down the minutes until three.

"Do you ever lose them?" I finally ask around the lump in my throat. "Do the missions ever fail?"

Casper squeezes my hand, but Bowie blows a raspberry as he nods in Erik's direction. "With this guy riding shotgun? This'll be a walk in the park."

I appreciate his faith in his boss, but my tee is growing slick with sweat under my jacket and my stomach is in knots. And when Erik confirms that the black SUV pulling into the parking lot is my father's, the tension only gets worse. The windows are tinted too dark to see much, but I slide down in my seat just the same. They take a bay on the other side of the lot and Erik turns to watch them. When the door pops open and two guys get out, I peer over the headrest and brace for the bad memories to swoop.

"Huh. They must be new," I murmur. "I've never seen those guys before."

Erik swivels to look at me, his hand already raised to touch his earpiece. "You sure they didn't switch out along the route?" He listens for a moment to his team's reply then glances at Bowie, his face grim. "I'm following on foot until they make contact. You stay with the car." Before he opens the door, he swings around and points a finger into the back seat. "And you two don't move an inch, got it?"

I nod, gripping the headrest, my heart kicking up another gear. As soon as Erik's out, Bowie unbuckles his seatbelt and takes a handgun from his seat pocket. He also fiddles with his earpiece, quickly checking in with the rest of the team. "They've found a spot near the school entrance," he tells us. "They'll stay there and provide backup while Erik makes his move."

The original plan was to grab Violet once they'd made their way back here and were approaching our car. The security – always two guys for the school run – would be knocked out by Bowie and Erik. At worst, Violet might have to be subdued for a couple of seconds until she could be bundled into the car with us. But now Erik is gone, and Bowie has a handgun resting against the dash.

"Shit!" he mutters as a faint voice echoes through his earpiece. He looks back at me with a downturned mouth. "It might be a decoy. One of the construction guys just tried to grab her. Erik's taken him down, but your sister is on the run."

I'm already fumbling for my seatbelt when Bowie engages the child locks. "Forget it, sweetheart," he tells me. "You leave this car and Erik will flay my ass."

"Then you go after her!" I yell, straining to peer down the street. Students are starting to trickle past, but I can't see Violet. "That construction guy could have backup too, right? How do you know she isn't being dragged into a van right now?"

Bowie curses, but as he releases the locks to climb out, I glance in the rearview mirror. It's just a flash of color and movement, but I'm certain it's Violet flying past the end of the alleyway, her long blonde braids streaming behind her.

I wrench the door open, almost tumbling out. All I can think is my baby sister is running for her life, with who knows how many assholes giving chase. Bowie's mouth drops open, but it's Casper's startled cry that makes me pause. "I saw her! Just wait here. I'll be back!"

Bowie is cursing up a storm, hissing for me to come back, but we both know he can't leave Casper alone in the car. No doubt he's already reporting me to Erik, and I take comfort in that as I pelt down the alleyway. The alpha's going to kill me, but not before I rescue Violet.

The alleyway feels much longer than it did in the car, and I'm gulping sour air as I reach the end. It opens onto another narrow street, this one lined with trees and elegant brownstones. There's a parking garage off to my left and a removalist van unloading to my right, but no sign of my sister. I decide to follow the direction of the flash I saw, squeezing past a guy hefting an armchair across the sidewalk. He gives me a startled glance but I'm already dodging through some cardboard boxes, my eyes searching the street. I don't know why I look down – maybe because of the rug rolled up and waiting to be hauled inside – but I catch another flash of gold out of the corner of my eye.

"Violet!" I cry, stopping so suddenly I almost slam into the metal gate. Beyond it are a set of stairs to what I assume is a basement apartment and my sister is crouched on the bottom step, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"Jas?" Her eyes bulge as she stares at me. The wary confusion on her face makes my heart squeeze until I remember the wig. Dragging it off, I push through the gate and rush down the stairs. There's not a lot of room for the two of us on the tiny landing, but we smush together in a hug, my little sister clinging to me as I try to hold back the tears. "What are you doing here, Jas? And why do you smell so weird?"

"Long story," I gulp, grabbing her face and staring down into her wide gray eyes. "Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." Her nose scrunches up. "I mean, there was some construction guy who tried to grab me at the school gates, but this big soldier dude punched him, and I ran."

"The big soldier dude is with me. His name is Erik, and we're here to take you with us."

Violet blinks at me, her teeth gnawing on her lip. "You mean away from dad?"

"Exactly." I don't need to elaborate. Violet has seen enough to know why I've come for her. "But we need to get out of here first, okay? I'll explain everything when we're safe."

Any other teenager and they'd be bursting with questions, but Violet just gives me a slow nod and grips my hand tighter. I kiss her cold knuckles, glad to see she's wearing tights and a scarf. Our father might be a horrible human being, but he always makes an effort to keep us healthy.

All the better to trial his experiments on us.

I shove the dark thought aside, keeping a tight grip on my sister's hand as I creep back up the stairs. I can hear the removalist guys moving around, but when I peek over the top of the stairwell, my heart almost stops. Jackson, my father's head of security, is standing twenty feet away, hands on hips as he scans the street. I try to duck back out of cover, but when I catch the flare of eyeshine, I know I'm too slow. And then I hear the pounding of heavy feet on the pavement.

"Quick! Try the door!" I push Violet ahead of me down the stairs, praying that the removalists have been working down here, too. The door gives under my sister's weight, and we pile inside, slamming it shut behind us. I fumble with the flimsy lock, then turn to survey the room. To my dismay, I realize it's a studio with a tiny bathroom attached. Nowhere to hide, and Jackson's boots are already thudding on the stairs. I duck towards the back, dodging around plastic covered furniture and packing crates, and wrench the drapes aside. There's a tiny courtyard outside, fenced in by a huge stone wall.

"We can climb it," Violet says at my side, but her voice cracks and I know it's bravado. My sister never lies to herself, but she's always tried to buffer me from the truth. My heart surges with such protective love, I have to grab her shoulders to anchor myself. Because I'm one second away from ripping the front door of its hinges and attacking Jackson with teeth and claws.

"Listen to me, Vi. Jackson is right out there, and we can't both get over that wall before he's inside. I need you to hide…" I scan the small apartment, then pull her over to the kitchenette. When I yank open a cabinet, I'm relieved to see it's just big enough for her to crawl into. "You hide in here, and no matter what you hear, don't make a sound. I'll lure him away and then come back for you."

Pulling the panic button and tracker from my pocket, I activate it, then press it into her hand. "This will bring Erik, the guy who's helping us. If he gets here before me, you go with him, okay? He won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

She stares up at me with panicked eyes. "What about you? If Jackson gets you, he'll drag you home. Or back to the Sawyers." She grips my hand, her fingers trembling. "I don't want to lose you, Jas."

"You won't," I promise, kissing her cheek. She smells like strawberries, and I pull her scarf off, winding it around my own neck. "Now get inside and don't make a sound."

She hugs me quickly then crawls into the narrow space. I catch a last glimpse of her frightened eyes, then push the door shut and edge a cardboard box in front of the cabinet. It's the best I can do to protect her, but my heart gives a sickening thud as I run for the back of the apartment. Throwing the sliding door open, I cross the courtyard and hurl myself at the wall. I scramble for a handhold, but it's made of thick stone blocks, and I shove my toes into the crevices as I pull myself to the top. I can hear the crash of the front door giving way as I slide down the other side, landing in another alleyway. This one backs onto a restaurant, and I grimace at the ripe dumpster next to me. But the stench provides good cover and I dart behind it, grabbing the mace from my pocket.

I just hope like hell it's strong enough to knock the asshole out.

I only get a moment to catch my breath, and then Jackson is scaling the wall. He's a lot more agile than I am, pausing at the top to scan the alleyway. He can't see me behind the dumpster – and I'm hoping he can't smell me over the trash – but my heart is thumping so loudly, I'm certain he can hear it.

It takes every bit of willpower I have to hold still until his boots hit the ground. Jackson is an uber, all densely packed muscle over thick bone, but he's had a knee injury for years, and it buckles as he lands. I grab my chance, springing from my hiding spot and hissing his name. He whirls towards me, a malicious light in his eyes, and I pump the can of Feral Moan straight into his face.

It comes out in a dense, meaty mist, and Jackson howls as it hits him. But his hand is already moving to grab me, and the pain turns his fist into a club. He smashes it into the side of my head, and I spin away, smacking into the wall. Agony explodes through my skull and my vision goes white. I know I'm on my knees, but I can't see through the tears squeezing from my eyes. I brace myself for Jackson's boot, but he grunts instead, something rattling hard as it hits the dumpster. Gripping the stone wall, I try to pull myself to my feet, but a wave of nausea has me gagging over my knees.

I dig my nails into my thighs, swallowing through blood and bile.

Get up, you stupid bitch! Or stay down here and die like a dog.

But cursing at myself gets me nowhere, the world tilting crazily as I try to rise.

"Stay down, love," a deep lilting voice says as a hand skims my shoulder. "I'll help you in a jiffy."

I blink the tears from my eyes to stare up at the alpha who's squaring off against Jackson. He's tall and broad with a shock of red hair, and in any other alleyway, he could probably hold his own. But he looks almost fragile next to Jackson, who even with a weak knee and mace dripping from his eyes, is clearly the bigger threat. And he knows it, grinning sadistically as the other man pulls a knife from his leather jacket. "Come at me with that," Jackson snarls, "and I'll gut you like a fish."

The redheaded alpha doesn't reply, bouncing on his toes as he twirls his knife. I want to scream at him to run – Jackson might hurt me, but he'll murder him – but he leaps forward so fast the words die on my tongue. He's past the bigger alpha in a flash, leaning almost casually against the opposite wall as two long cuts appear on the front of Jackson's white shirt. The uber stares down at himself in shock, a pained cry bubbling from his lips.

The smaller alpha shakes the blood off his knife and grins at Jackson. "I'm partial to fish and chips myself," he muses, ducking a wild blow and slicing another long cut down the uber's side. "Never had it until I came to America, though, which is practically a sin for an Irishman."

Jackson is holding his ribs, blood leaking through his fingers. "You little fuck!"

"Sticks and stones," the other alpha sings back at him, slashing the blade through the air. It moves so fast I can't see it land, but Jackson's shirt is in tatters, blood pouring from his wounds. "You shouldn't bring insults to a knife fight, you big ‘eejit."

Jackson flushes a menacing shade of purple, his eyes narrowing to murderous slits. I can smell him over the dumpster – blood and rage and meaty hate – and I'm not surprised when his command roars from his chest. "Drop the knife!"

It's pure alpha and powerful enough to make my head throb, bile burning the back of my throat. I can't swallow my agonized whimper, but the redheaded alpha just laughs, bouncing on his toes some more. "Don't waste your breath," he tells Jackson. "Bigger men than the likes of you have tried to command me, and they were shit out of luck, too."

"But I'm an uber!" Jackson roars, staggering towards him. "I'll fuck you up so bad -."

The snap of his neck is so loud, I cry out in shock. But then the redheaded alpha drops to his knees beside me. Cool hands touch my chin, gently tilting my head back, and pale amber eyes smile into mine. "Well, hello again. I'm Patrick, head of Rose Pack security."

A jolt of something grabs me – recognition, or just gratitude for keeping me out of Jackson's hands.

I open my mouth to thank him, but the world is peeling at the edges, the alleyway narrowing to a pinprick before winking out altogether.