24. Declan

Five hours of sleep might as well be five minutes, in my opinion, but I smile as I roll to find a pretty omega sharing my pillow. Long dark lashes curl on pale cheeks, Casper's lips pursed like he's just waiting to be kissed. I oblige, then reach down to squeeze his meaty ass.

"Wake up, darlin'," I croon as he tries to wriggle away. He's face down with his arm hooked around my neck and his cheek mashed against my shoulder, so he isn't trying too hard. "Time to get your sweet ass up. We've got a breakfast invitation before we visit the doctor."

Casper groans and burrows his face under the comforter. "Go away, Dec. I'm too sleepy for checkups."

"Fine." I slap his butt and leap out of bed, sweeping my tuxedo trousers off the floor. "Then more pancakes for Jasmine an' me."

That gets his attention, and he drags himself up onto his knees with a sleepy yawn. "What's going on? I thought she was at the Rose Tower."

"She is. But Erik just texted they're on their way to an early breakfast." I pause and trickle my fingers down his spine, like each cute little knob is a piano key. "He also said her scent-mate is joinin' ‘em."

Casper's mouth falls open, his eyebrows disappearing into the tangle of his raven hair. With eyes like a southern sky and skin as pale as cream, he looks like a prince, and I can't resist leaning down and giving him a storybook kiss. Of course, the little shit ruins it by planting his hand in my face and shoving me away. "Really, Dec? How about you use that mouth and explain yourself?"

He"s already rolling out of bed, reaching for the jeans and polo shirt Xavi draped over the chair for him. Technically it's Xavier's bedroom, and while it's the biggest suite in the residence, it also has the most traditional bed. A big ole nest that looks like a cream puff but feels like a cloud. My dick twitches to think of my two omegas cuddling under the blankets, looking up at me like hungry little chicks…

"Ready to go?" Xavier asks, coming out of the bathroom in an immaculate black suit. Until I met him, I thought lawyers slept in filing cabinets, popping out in the morning with their side parts and folios in perfect working order. But Xavi's hair is damp, his cheeks tinged with heat from his shower. When he starts fiddling with his cufflinks, I fight the urge to lick the little razor nick in his cleft chin. "You're not wearing that, are you?" he asks, frowning at my crumpled tuxedo trousers. "It's the Rose Tower."

"It's bacon an' beans," I drawl, but jerk my head at the door. "I'll go get somethin' out of my hamper if you like."

Xavi gives me an unamused look. "Don't bother. I've got something you can wear."

I grin at him, because if he had his way, he'd dress the entire household, including the dog. "What about Violet?" I ask as I follow him into the closet. "She comin' to breakfast?"

"Kelly's taking Chewie for a check-up," he tells me as he pulls a pair of dark wash jeans and a brown suede jacket off his perfectly organized hangers. "Curtis thought Violet might like to see the clinic."

I nod, because I've never met a more dog-crazy kid. But my attention is diverted by the hand-tooled boots Xavier hands me. They're black alligator leather with gold stitching and a western heel and they smell like the man standing in front of me. "Yee-haw. You dressin' me for a rodeo, cowboy?"

Xavi's shower flush darkens, and he quickly turns his back. "You could wear a trash bag, Declan, and they'd still escort you to their best table."

The curse of good genes – not to mention fantastic fucking jeans, like the pair I pull on now. The boots slide on like butter and I dangle the suede jacket from my thumb. "Do I get a shirt, or would you like me bare-chested for breakfast?"

Xavier glances back at me, a plain white tee in his hands. "I know I'm being ridiculous. You can choose whatever you want."

"Nothin' ridiculous about carin', sweet man," I tell him, dropping the jacket and nudging him against the wall. We're eye-to-eye as I press my hands to each side of his head, caging him in. "You know I lap it up like a cat with a bowl of cream."

He smirks, his gaze on my mouth. "Well, you deserve all the cream, Declan."

Damn straight, although my family was of a different opinion. Growing up, it was more along the lines of sing what we say, or you're out on the street. Maybe even buried in the canyon with all those souls I sang to their deaths. I should've called their bluff, but from what I'd seen by the time I was twenty-one, family only came in one variety, and I was never built to be a lone wolf.

But then along came the Volks, and I learned that love songs really do exist.

"Now that we're stayin' here," I murmur, brushing the edge of my thumb along the curve of his ear, "do you think we can branch out a little more in the entertainment department?"

Xavier doesn't have to ask what I mean. "Retire today, if that's what you want, Dec. You'll be a hard act to follow, but the decision is yours."

The warm glow in my chest burns a little brighter. "I'm not sayin' give up the mission altogether. I'd just like to serve in other ways."

I can see what that statement does to him. Hell, I can smell it on his skin, like my nose is already buried in the sweet arch of his neck. "You'll still sing for me, though, my wild Southern boy."

It isn't even remotely a question, and while he might be the one caged against the wall, his voice settles like a hot hand around my throat. "Always," I say gruffly. "You want me on my knees right now, Alpha, I'll sing ‘til you see stars."

The flare of his arousal is like a drug, and as he grabs my hips, his fingers caress my bare skin. But he just pulls me forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips. Ah, Xavi. Erik might be the big brother I never had, but Xavier is the daddy of my dreams.

As we rock together, he cups my cheeks, staring deep into my eyes. "You have the voice of an angel, Dec, and the heart of a warrior. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

What am I meant to say to that? I want to show him that my mouth has other merits, but time is ticking, and Xavi still has that knot of tension between his brows. "Why the fancy duds, out of curiosity? Is there somethin' more to this breakfast that you're sayin'?"

He gives a slow nod, his thumbs still stroking my cheekbones. "I want to ask Jasmine if she'll accept our guardianship of Violet. Whatever the situation with their father, I want them to both know they have a safe place here. Always."

I grin, thinking of how full your heart can get with just a handful of words. "Violet Volk has a nice ring to it."

"It does. But that will be their decision."

Same as it was for me. Erik and Xavi could've wiped out my entire family with a few pointed commands, but they let me choose. And being broken and silenced was better punishment for the Rusk Pack than dead and buried in their precious Texan soil.

"Doesn't hurt to put our best foot forward, though," I murmur, playing with the perfect knot of his tie. "And you make a pretty temptin' proposal, Alpha."

"Tonight," he says, voice full of peppery spice. "We get everything settled, and then celebrate as a pack."

My dick gives a happy little jump at the promise in his eyes. "Sounds good to me."

A bunch of wicked thoughts are playing through my head when he frowns down at his phone, his tension shifting me to high alert. "What is it?"

"A text from Erik." He quickly dials his number, cursing as it goes straight to message. "All it says is Quinn. Just his name, nothing more."

"Fuck," I breathe, memories of the Boston club flashing through my mind. I've met plenty of snakes in my life, but that cold-blooded reptile took the prize. "What do we do?"

"Try the others." Xavi presses the phone into my hands, parting his rack of winter suits to expose his gun safe. The guy might be a Californian lawyer, but he's handy with his firearms. He loads us both up, then nods at the phone. "Any answer?"

"Not yet," I tell him, and he jerks his head towards the door. When he stalks back into the bedroom, he looks bigger suddenly, like someone else has slipped into his suit. I've noticed this change before, usually right before his eyes start to glow like a demon. Most of the time he keeps his uber firmly under wraps, but heaven help the fool who threatens Xavi's pack.

"I thought you guys were in a hurry…" Casper is dressed and leaning against the bureau, but he straightens at the strained silence. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"We've lost contact with Erik and Jasmine." Xavier pauses, like he's weighing his next words, then says, "Eamonn Quinn might be involved."

Casper's lip curls back on his teeth. "Then go. Do what you need to, Xavi. Just get them the hell away from him."

Xavier nods but still lingers, his eyes clinging to our sweet omega. "You'll be alright?"

"I'll tell Kelly and Violet to skip the clinic and we'll make sure the residence is locked down. Don't worry about us. I've got this covered."

I grin at him, striding over to grip his shoulder. "Proud of you, sweetheart."

"Tell me about it later," he sasses, but drops a quick kiss on my lips. "Just watch your asses, okay? I'm kind of attached to them."

The ride to Rose Tower is both painfully long and far too short, because all we get from the restaurant is radio silence. We're in a convoy with the bulk of our security team, since Erik only took a couple of his guys with him. That leaves me in the backseat of an armored SUV, while Bowie drives, and Xavi plots. He's talked to Daniel Rose, but most of their pack is in LA, and while they're scrambling to get home, they're as clueless as we are. Patrick, their head of security, is unaccounted for, and the main team who guard the tower are offline. In fact, it seems all their comms are being jammed, so even though we're two of the most powerful packs in the city, we collectively know less than shit. It's been twenty minutes since Erik's text, and I feel like I'm gonna puke on my pretty new boots.

"We're close," Xavi says sharply, the SUV bumping down a back alley. The Rose Tower is an architectural landmark, but it just looks like another building from this angle. Except that the delivery van parked at its foot is surrounded by a bunch of guys in combat gear. Bullets are flying, another group pinning them to the side of the van. But it's the two unmoving lumps at their feet that make my heart thud. The one in the suit might be Garth Rose, but I'd recognise those kickass military boots anywhere. "That's Erik. Is he moving?"

"Can't tell. But that's the Rose crew," Bowie says, gesturing to the guys further down the alleyway. They've got a little cover from the restaurant dumpsters, but they're not making much progress in reclaiming their turf. "Our guys are going in the front, but it looks like the action is all here. The van is Quinn's, but there's no sign of him, inside or out."

Xavier gives a curt nod. "And Erik and Jasmine?"

"Same. No visual, but they're tapping into the restaurant feed now." Bowie slows the SUV to a crawl. "What's the play, boss?"

Xavi glances back at me, his eyes grim. "You don't have to, Dec…"

"Fastest way to end this shitshow," I drawl, popping my door. "Just hope I don't get hit by friendly fire."

"I've got the Rose guys on comms now," Bowie says. "I'll warn them you're coming out." His brow furrows. "You uh… need us to do anything?"

"Just get ready to move once this is over."

Xavier climbs out of the front, joining me in the alley. He has his gun out, but his hand is a warm anchor in my back. "Just distract them, and we'll do the rest."

"I'll do more than distract ‘em," I mutter, because if there's anything I was built for, it's this. "Step away, Xavi."

He barely moves an inch, but his comforting warmth fades as the chill spreads across my skin. I use my voice for a lot of things, and while seduction and confessions both run hot, killing is an ice-cold business.

I blast out a whistle, because these assholes don't deserve anything more elaborate. Still, it's an elusive C6 note, right up there with the birds and the best sopranos. Every head in the alleyway whips my way, but I'm only targeting Quinn's guys. A couple of their eardrums burst, but they turn and walk towards me in a daze, guns down or dropped at their feet. I step back, still wary of friendly fire, but the Rose crew circles around and herds them towards the wall. With a few quick shots, they put them down like a scythe through tall grass. Head wounds mostly, but they keep one breathing for me to interrogate. But the guy takes one look at my face and blurts out, "The club in Boston! Quinn left here twenty minutes ago!"

The Rose crew give me cautious looks, backing away and going into a huddle. But Xavi's hand steers me over to the van, where Camden, our medic, is already kneeling beside Erik and Garth. "Drugged, not dead," he says, taking a couple of syringes from his pack. "I'll bring them round with a shot of adrenaline, so you might want to take a step back." He works quickly, but still nods in my direction. "I can also look at your mouth if you want."

I swallow, tasting blood. "Damn," I hiss. "That whistle broke my tongue."

It doesn't come out quite that clearly, and Xavier cups my face, trying to see the damage. I knock his hands away. "It's nothin', Alpha. Might just need to stay off my knees for a bit."

He definitely understands that, because his cheekbones turn a dusky pink. But we jerk around as Camden jabs the ubers and they stagger to their feet. They exchange a half-drugged look, getting their bearings, then let out a pair of alpha roars that rattle the Rose Tower foundations.

I grin at Xavi, who pulls me in for a kiss. He doesn't seem to care that my mouth is a bloody mess, and neither do I. "Now ain't that music to your ears?"

But Erik isn't in a celebratory mood. His muscles are so jacked, the seams of his shirt are starting to split. "Where?" he demands, while all the security guys keep a wide berth, trying to look helpful without getting too close.

"The Boston club," Xavi says, nodding my way. "Dec confirmed it. They've got a half hour head start."

"Not if we're in a jet," Garth growls, shaking his head like a bear coming out of winter. "Let's convoy to Teterboro. I'll have a plane ready to take off as soon as we arrive."

It's close to an hour in midday traffic, and my gut is churning by the time we reach the airfield. Garth's money gets us in the air in no time, but then there's a long-winded debate about what might wait for us at the other end.

"Doesn't matter how many of ‘em there are," I say, stopping the conversation short. "Get ‘em out in the open and I can siren ‘em." I don't miss the pained look that Erik tosses Xavier, but I shrug. "Call it what you want, guys, but those assholes took our mate. And I ain't gonna stop singin' until every one of them is in the ground."