Page 2 of Savage Surrender

He moves toward me slowly enough that I could back away. I don’t. I’m not sure my legs would listen if I tried.

He looks exhausted. New shadows sit under his blue eyes, layered over the ones Whitney put there and the ones I’ve added since. His hair is a mess. Without the smirk or the raised eyebrow, he looks younger, softer.

He stops in front of me and presses his palm flat against my stomach, through my dress. Heat seeps through the thin fabric. The still-new omega inside me lifts her head and pushes into his touch before I can stop her.

This morning, Montgomery laid out his plan for my body like a lab schedule. He didn’t look up from his tablet when he said it. Optimal conception window. Like I was a petri dish with a due date. For science. Now Tristan’s hand is warming my ovaries, and my omega rolls shamelessly toward him because an alpha is touching us, and apparently that’s the only fact she cares about.

I will never get pregnant while that creep is alive.

“Interesting that he thinks he gets a vote.” Tristan’s thumb traces a slow circle over my abdomen, his gaze steady on mine. “He doesn’t. Neither do our fathers. No one in the world gets a say except you.” His thumb presses harder, and my skin melts under his touch. It doesn’t help matters that I can still feel him inside me. “And maybe us...”

“No.”

His thumb stops.

“You can ask me. Beg. Make a color-coded presentation if Weller needs to feel useful. But nobody else gets a vote.”

“Fair,” he says finally.

I close my eyes and lean closer. “But if I refuse his request and he isn’t bluffing—if they use her eggs and your...”

Even if Whitney isn’t here to gloat, it would still feel like losing them to her again. I barely survived it the first time.

Their scents and familiar bodies close around me, and for one breath, I let the wall of them feel like safety. Through the gap between Owen’s arm and Tristan’s shoulder, there’s still a slice of open green with one black uniform planted in the middle of it. Weller takes my hand and locks his fingers through mine. “I’ve done a poor job of protecting you.” He looks as tired as Tristan. “You have no reason to trust my reassurances, but I won’t let them hurt you again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“How can you be sure? Look at everything they’ve done to all of us. We haven’t stopped any of it. We’re still playing their games. Contracts, blackmail, DNA⁠—”

“Bianca.”

Weller’s hazel eyes don’t leave mine. His face could be asking, Trust me. Please. The trap is that I do. His thumb brushes my cheek, and I nod before deciding whether he can keep what he just promised.

Freddie has gone very still. “I’ll murder all of them before I let them touch you again.”

Pretty words.

I raise an eyebrow. “Murder? Now you’re just talking dirty to me, Freddie.”

Freddie doesn’t laugh. He drags me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe, his chin settling on top of my head. The fight stays, but my shoulders loosen one painful inch.

“Okay.” I breathe against his chest. “Let’s talk to my mom. Winston can put his medical skills to good use.” I glance toward the guards watching us from across the lawn. The photograph is still in Tristan’s hand. I miss the version of myself that didn’t know it existed.

I pull back far enough to look at all four of them. “We’re not done with this.”

“No,” Weller says. “We’re not.”

Movement cuts across the lawn. Two guards are heading straight for us, so I guess our little field trip is over. Owen reaches for the back of his neck, his body going tense.

The larger guard stops in front of us. “Ms. Quinn. Gentlemen. Dr. Montgomery has requested that you return to the estate for the evening.”

I lift my chin. “You can tell Dr. Montgomery to go fuck himself.”

The guard almost hides his wince. “Ms. Quinn, I really must insist⁠—”

He reaches for my arm. Owen catches his wrist and twists before the man’s fingers touch me. The guard stumbles with a sharp cry and falls to his knees.

“Don’t.” Owen tightens his grip. “Touch. Her.”

A second guard runs up behind him and draws his gun, the barrel pointed at Owen’s head. The park goes very quiet. Somewhere behind me a sprinkler keeps ticking like nothing’s happening. My breathing is too fast and too loud.