Page 36 of Savage Surrender

She’s alive. And he let everyone believe she died in a yacht accident.

“Best care money can buy, the brochure says. I should know. I helped design it.” Whitney tips her head, and behind her, through a wide window, there are white-topped mountains. A view so picturesque it looks like a painting. The blanket over her legs is tucked smooth enough for a hospital bed, and one hand rests curled in her lap while the other performs the show.

I have the urge to scream. I had almost pushed Whitney out of my mind.

Almost.

I finally remember the audience. People are on their feet. Montgomery’s guards move through the tables with their hands out, plucking phones from hands as people hold them up.

“You saved me,” Whitney says, soft and almost whimsical. “And that part was sweet, I guess. You found me bleeding out on the floor where that sewer rat brutalized me. She’s always been jealous of me, and you didn’t protect me from her. And then - you didn’t take me home. You tucked me away. Out of sight, out of mind. Far from my house. Far from my life.”

She glares at the camera now. Her scowl is cutting.

“Far from my pack,” she hisses.

My pack.

Every claiming mark hidden beneath makeup and diamonds seems to burn at once. Hearing those words in her mouth, knowing she’s referring to my mates, still drops me straight back into the girl staring at a video on a cliff and believing she had lost everything forever.

Owen’s snarl carries all the way to the stage, and it’s what finally snaps me back.

I turn, hunting for them in the chaos. Guards are checking people as they flee. Owen’s chest is heaving, his eyes black and locked on me. He shoves through the guards without slowing. Weller drives one man’s hand away from his collar, protecting his ribs with the other arm even while he forces a path forward. Tristan catches the opening, and Freddie stays tight beside him.

They’re coming for me.

“So it’s only fair,” Whitney says, and the bright, empty smile snaps back into place, “you know what it feels like. And oh, watch your back, B. B for bitch.”

There’s a pause and then she says, “Actually, don’t bother. It won’t help.”

A shot cracks in the air.

It takes me a moment to place it. The sound doesn’t fit the space. But then Montgomery’s hand flies to the side of his neck and comes away red. The bullet has opened a shallow line through the flesh above his collar. Blood runs over his fingers to paint the white fabric as he lurches sideways and starts crawling behind a piece of furniture.

Everyone starts screaming at once. Chairs flip. A man crawls beneath a table without letting go of his phone. One of Montgomery’s granddaughters disappears under her mother’s skirt as bodies push toward every door at once.

“BIANCA. GET DOWN.”

Weller’s command hits me in the spine. My knees strike the floor and my body folds, and I go down, cheek to the floor, silk pooling around me.

Fury flashes through the terror. His alpha bark irritates me for one second, and then another shot bites into the floor where my head was.

Dr. Montgomery is crouched nearby, a guard holding a white bandage to his neck. His eyes are hunting across the running bodies.

Then they find me.

“Get to the house,” he says simply, and then to the guards nearby: “Take her back to the house. Get her inside. Away from the windows.”

His gaze moves over my limbs and settles once he decides his investment is intact.

His head snaps around. “Hale. Hale.”

The silver buzz cut is already there, like an annoying shadow.

“Escort them and put your best men on the doors. Nobody in, nobody out until I clear it myself. Nobody.” Montgomery’s eyes come back to me. “Go.”

Weller pulls me up, his good arm locked around my waist. Owen places his body between mine and the windows. Freddie’s palm lands between my shoulder blades, warm and steady. Tristan clears the path ahead, one hand out behind him that I’m gripping for dear life to make sure we stay together.

At the service corridor we pass through, a silver serving tray lies crooked on its stand, the remains of somebody’s cheese course scattered across it. A small knife glints beside an overturned dish.