The room was dim.
I closed the door behind me with a soft click, twisting the lock even though I knew it wouldn't hold for long. The fire alarm was still shrieking in the distance, echoing off the metal halls like a scream no one knew how to silence. The entire facility would be scrambling now, protocol scrambling through their earpieces.
Good.
I didn't waste time.
I dropped to my knees beside him—my mate—his bare back curved like a bow, shivering where he'd collapsed against the cool floor. His scent hit me first. Not just the lavender and heat now, but something else—bitter, wrong. Remnants of the boss clinging to his skin, clinging to the inside of his thighs.
I swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise.
Nyx was already growling in the back of my mind, pacing like a caged animal. He needs us, she whispered. Now. Gently. Gently.
"Alpha..."
It was barely a sound. Just the tiniest broken thread of voice, pulled from somewhere deep inside him. His lips were parted, eyes glazed and unfocused, but he was reaching for me. Not with strength—there was none left in him—but with instinct.
He didn't know what he needed.
He just knew who.
I eased closer, gently brushing his damp hair from his forehead. His cheeks were wet. I wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears.
"I'm here," I whispered.
Nine whimpered at the sound. His fingers tangled into my shirt, weak but desperate, pulling me toward him as if he could hide inside my body. His nose pressed under my jaw, and I realized he was trembling—not from cold, but from need. From pain. From the heat that still hadn't let go.
I tilted his chin up, just enough to look at him.
His pupils were blown wide, fever-dark. His lips were red and bitten. His chest heaved in shallow pants.
And between his thighs—
I couldn't look.
Not yet.
Instead, I pressed my forehead to his and flooded the bond.
Love. Safety. Warmth.
Not promises I couldn't keep. Not words about protection or vengeance or justice. Just me. Just everything I felt for him, poured through that thin golden thread that bound us. No more walls. No more pretending I could stay distant.
Nine sobbed.
His arms came around my neck, clumsy and shaking, and his scent hit me full force—ripe, sweet, desperate. His body was begging. He was begging.
And still, he buried his face against my throat, nuzzling there like it was the only place he felt real.
I held him.
I rocked him.
But his body kept arching, grinding against me in little helpless movements, his thighs slick and trembling. He needed release, and this time... he needed me to help him through it.
I shifted lower. Gently, carefully, I pulled off what little fabric clung to him. Not because I wanted to see—goddess, no. But because it was soaked. Used. Evidence.
I wiped him clean with the soft cloth I found on the floor—left there, discarded, probably never meant for him. He flinched at first. But when I pressed a kiss to his knee and whispered, "It's me," he relaxed. Just a little. Just enough.
His hips rolled helplessly toward the gentler touch.
Nyx's voice was quieter now, steadier. He needs to feel loved through this, she whispered. He needs to remember what it feels like to be wanted. Not used.
My hand trembled.
But I nodded.
I pulled him into my lap.
I cradled him close.
His hips jerked as my hand moved lower, guided more by instinct than thought—by the bond between us, the way he clung to me, begged for me.
And slowly, as gently as I could, I gave him what his body needed—what his heart needed more. Not because it was about lust. Not because it was what I wanted.
But because I loved him.
Because he trusted me.
Because I was his Alpha.
I pressed inside him with aching gentleness, letting him ride the rhythm as his body took what it needed. His slick heat had welcomed me like he'd been waiting for this—needing this—my fingers, my scent, my presence.
Nine's moans muffled against my skin, little sounds of relief and pain mixed together. Each movement made him gasp. Every wave of heat that rolled through him pushed him closer to breaking.
I held him through it all.
I whispered to him through the bond—You're safe. You're loved. I'm here.
And when he finally came undone in my arms, sobbing against my chest, I didn't let go.
I stayed.
I stroked his hair.
I whispered his name.
I breathed him in until his shaking stopped.
Until his breathing slowed.
Until I felt his scent start to settle again—not because the heat was over. But because, for the first time in days, he wasn't alone.
"Alpha," he whispered one last time, voice small and raw.
And I kissed his temple.
"I've got you," I said. "I've got you, Nine."