Chapter 8: The War

Everly POV

The water was still on my nightstand when I woke up.

Eight hours after Damian left it there. Eight hours after I spat in his face and he called me little Omega and locked my door from the outside like I was a dog.

My throat was sandpaper. My lips were cracked. The burner phone Collins gave me was dead on the carpet. Grayson's last text still burned in my head: Don't eat or drink anything he gives you.

But it was 3:12 AM. Dad had put two guards outside my pink childhood bedroom. No water in the bathroom - Dad turned it off, "for security." I hadn't drunk in 12 hours.

He drank it in front of me, I told myself. Clear glass. Condensation. He proved it was safe.

I picked it up. My hand shook. I drank half in one go.

It tasted bitter. Like pennies. Like metal.

For 20 seconds, nothing.

Then my stomach cramped so hard I folded in half and fell off the bed onto the pink rug I've had since I was 6.

I tried to scream. No sound. My throat closed. Like someone zipped it shut. The mark on my neck - Grayson's mark - flared with burning so hot I clawed at it and my nails came away bloody.

The bond. The dead bond. It lurched. One sick, broken pulse.

Gray. I thought it down the dead line.

On the floor, my fingers found the dead burner phone. I pressed power. Nothing.

I crawled to the bathroom. Threw up water and bile. My wolf Lila made a sound I'd never heard. Not a howl. A whimper.

The bedroom door was locked. The window was nailed shut. Dad had the key.

I was going to die in my childhood room in the dress I wore when my mate denied me on TV.

Grayson POV

The bond had been dead for 11 hours.

Since I stood on that stage and said There is no mate bond and watched Everly collapse and did nothing. Since I cut it with a lie.

But at 3:17 AM, it screamed back to life.

Not a whisper. A scream. Like a hot wire through my chest.

I was in the warehouse on 5th. Marcus asleep on couch. Stock purchase at 12% - $32 million of Damian Black's company gone.

I doubled over. Coffee cup shattered. Fangs dropped. Claws ripped out and shredded leather armrests.

Everly. Pain. Fear. Poison. Flooded through dead bond. She was choking.

Silver, my wolf, silent since denial, roared. MATE. NOW.

I didn't grab keys. I didn't grab gun.

I shifted.

In downtown Seattle, in a warehouse on 5th, I let my wolf take over for first time in 4 years inside city limits. It's a felony. 6 months jail. Stripped title.

I didn't care.

A 180-pound silver-black wolf tore out of my clothes, out window - glass shattering - and hit pavement running. Four legs, 60 mph, through alleys, alarms screaming.

I smelled her. 4 miles away. At Luke's estate. Where I was banned. 12 guards, 6 cameras, 8 press vans still camped outside.

I hit estate wall at full speed and went over it. 12 feet.

First guard didn't see me. I hit him chest-first and he went down. Second guard raised tranq rifle - I bit his arm and rifle fired into sky.

"CODE RED! WOLF ON PROPERTY!" someone screamed.

I crashed through back door. Wood splintered. Pack alarm blared.

Luke was in hallway in pajama pants, shotgun in hands. "GRAYSON? WHAT THE FU—" He saw my eyes. Silver. Feral. He lowered shotgun half inch. "Everly?"

I shoved past him, claws clicking, tore up stairs. Bedroom door locked from outside.

I broke it. One shoulder. Door exploded inward.

She was on bathroom floor. White dress stained with vomit and blood from where she scratched her neck. Lips blue. Glass tipped over next to her. Eyes open but not seeing.

Wolfsbane. Diluted, 2% solution. Enough to kill 22-year-old Omega who hadn't had first full shift yet. Enough to look like allergic reaction.

Someone tried to kill my mate.

I shifted back. Bones cracking, skin tearing - hurts to shift back that fast - but I did it naked on her pink carpet and pulled her into lap.

"Everly? Breathe! Look at me!"

She gasped, one ragged breath. Eyes found mine.

"You— you came."

"Always," I snarled, pressed hand over her mark. Ice cold. I pushed Alpha healing into it. Forbidden without permission. Council can strip you. I pushed anyway until nose bled.

Behind me, Luke appeared. Then Collins. Then two guards with guns.

Luke saw water glass. Picked it up, sniffed, face went pure black. Alpha scent exploded - rage. "Damian left that. At 9 PM. He said it was from kitchen. For her nerves."

Collins on radio. "Get doctor. NOW. Lock down estate. No one leaves. Bag that glass."

Everly coughed, blood flecked lips. "Don't... hospital... press outside..."

She was right. 8 press vans still outside. If they took her on stretcher, it'd be on CNN in 5 minutes: Senator's Daughter Hospitalized.

So I did dumbest, most possessive Alpha thing in 35 years.

I picked her up. Bridal style. Naked, covered in her blood and mine, and carried her down stairs, past Luke, past guards, out front door, onto front lawn, in full view of every camera.

Flashes like lightning.

"MR. VALE, IS SHE OKAY?" reporter screamed.

I looked straight into closest camera, Everly's head against my chest, and said words I refused to say 11 hours ago.

"She's mine. She has always been mine. And whoever put wolfsbane in her water just declared war on Silver Fang."

Behind me, Luke whispered, "Oh, fuck."

Because 20 feet away, pulling into driveway in black Bentley, holding bouquet of white roses for his bride-to-be, was Alpha Damian Black.

And he just heard me claim her in front of world.