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My throat is dry and dehydrated, so the only sound that comes out of me is a croaky rattle when I try to yell for help.
Get up, Skylar! April demands in my head.
I’m disgusting. I’m a sopping mess, unwashed, with greasy, matted hair and chapped lips. It would be easier to fall back asleep, to live in my filth, and disappear from reality.
But those scents call to me.
Freedom is behind that door—I know that those Alphas will save me.
I can’t remember their names, only their faces. It’s on the tip of my tongue, in the back of my mind?—
The front door finally gives way. I hear the THUMP, followed by John’s screams.
My cracked lips form into a smile.
I hope they kill him.
“POLICE!”
The scents grow stronger, and I drag myself toward the door.
I have to get to them.
I have to?—
The bedroom door bursts open at the same time I collapse from my efforts. I stare up at the ceiling, dazed, as I’m overwhelmed by a delicious, welcoming essence.
Landon, a small voice whispers. Landon’s here.
“Call an ambulance!” His voice cracks, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.
He’s upset. I don’t want him to be upset.
I try to tell him as much, but only a groan leaves my lips.
A spicy scent mixes with Landon’s earthy one.
“Holy fuck,” a voice murmurs, and I recognize it as River.
My Alphas are here.
And they’re both distressed.
I try to tell them I’m fine, that everything is fine now that they’re here, but nothing comes out.
“Is she conscious?” a deeper voice asks, followed by the rich scent I recognized from earlier.
“No, she’s not,” Landon replies, as a hand brushes the hair away from my forehead. I melt into the touch, so familiar and welcoming, unlike the awkward moments with John.
“Sweetheart, hold on for me,” Landon whispers. “Hold on for us.”
A radio beeps, and staticky chatter fills the air. I nuzzle into Landon’s hand, grateful that I’m finally safe.
They came back for me.
They didn’t forget me after all.
Strong arms lift me up, and my head is pressed against a hard, muscled chest.
