Chapter 18
Chapter 18:
From the velvet booth, Kira and Dixie erupted into cruel, piercing laughter. Their Inner Wolves were practically purring, feeding off my public degradation.
“Oops,” Dixie sneered, swirling her wolfsbane-laced martini. “Looks like the stray found a friend on her level p>
Babe regained his balance, his eyes darkening with a drunken, aggressive spark. He reached for me again.
Driven by pure, panicked instinct, I snatched the spiked martini from the table and hurled the liquid directly into his face.
Babe let out a feral, blinded roar, clawing at his burning eyes.
I didn’t wait for him to recover. I spun around and bolted, shoving past a group of dancers. My shoulder slammed hard into a passing waiter, sending a silver tray tipping and a dozen glass flutes crashing to the floor in a spectacular explosion of shattered glass.
“Grab her!” Dixie’s shrill voice pierced the chaos. “That Omega just attacked a VIP guest p>
I sprinted toward the narrow concrete corridor that led to the emergency exit. The air was damp and claustrophobic. But before I could reach the heavy metal doors, two massive human bouncers stepped out from the shadows, completely blocking the passage.
“Hold it right there, miss,” one of them barked, crossing his thick arms.
𝘙𝖾𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪t𝘩оu𝗍 𝗶𝗇𝘁𝗲𝗋r𝘂𝘱𝘵𝗂𝘰𝗻𝗌 𝗼n 𝗴𝗮𝗅ո𝘰𝘷еl𝘴.𝘤o𝘮
I skidded to a halt, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Let me pass! He’s attacking me p>
But they were human. They didn’t understand Pack dynamics, the scents, or the lethal danger of an enraged werewolf. They only heard Dixie’s accusation.
Behind me, a heavy, furious growl echoed in the corridor. Babe Vincent was coming, his scent spiking with violent, drunken rage. I was completely trapped—a wolfless Omega cornered in a concrete hallway, isolated from any hope of rescue.
At the far end of the corridor, the VIP elevator gave a soft ding.
I whipped my head around, a desperate prayer dying on my lips. I wanted it to be Kain. Despite the lies, despite the terrifying mystery of his identity, I craved the safety of his cedar scent.
But the scent that flooded the narrow hallway wasn’t cedar. It was a harsh, aggressive metallic ozone.
Jase Davenport stepped out of the elevator.
He took one look at my torn dress, my trembling frame, and the drunken Rogue advancing on me. The shock on his face lasted only a fraction of a second before it was swallowed entirely by a cold, possessive, unadulterated fury. His eyes flared with the feral gold of his Inner Wolf.
He didn’t look at me. He moved with terrifying, supernatural speed, bypassing me completely.
Jase grabbed Babe Vincent by the lapels of his ruined suit and delivered a brutal, bone-crushing punch directly to the Rogue’s jaw. Babe’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the concrete floor like a broken doll.
Jase stood over the bleeding man, his chest heaving, his Alpha aura suffocating the entire corridor.
“Get your hands off what’s mine, Rogue,” Jase snarled.