Chapter 7 Romeo

The bar’s packed beyond the usual thursday night crowd. Customers flood every corner, piling onto tables, crowding the counter, dancing squeezed together in the tiny space they call a dance floor. I had to call in some pack members to help with kitchen orders and the bar.

“We’ll be able to expand soon, buy the place next door,” I say to Rael over the music.

My beta nods, shaking a cocktail mixer to whip up another drink.

“You’re not going after her?” Soren growls in my mind, his voice thick with worry and impatience.

“For what? She’ll have to come back. Where else could she go? Vanessa doesn’t know anything or anyone!” I reply. “Besides, we’ve got her tail. Doesn’t that compel her to come back to us?”

Another group of girls approaches the bar. They’re in beach attire, bikinis peeking out under light dresses, tanned skin, and bold smiles. They ooze lust and daring, giggling and whispering among themselves, throwing glances at me and Rael. I flash a grin, flirt, push the priciest drinks, and slide their glasses across the counter with practiced charm.

“Stop acting like a hormone-crazed teenager and go after her!” Soren snaps, irritated. “We need her, not the other way around, Romeo. And like you said, Vanessa doesn’t know shit about the surface,” he retorts. “Ever think about what happens if she crosses a boundary or runs into some exiled werewolf?”

The thought hits me like a rock to the chest. My jaw clenches so hard I hear my teeth grind. My vision narrows. The noise around me fades to a hum. A wave of worry swallows me whole.

“Handle the bar. I’m going after her!” I tell Rael, stepping out from behind the counter.

The moment I hit the street, Vanessa’s scent finds me. It’s faint but enough to guide me. I hop on my motorcycle and weave through the streets, following my nose.

Her scent grows stronger, and then I hear her voice, even before I see her, crying for help. I kill the engine and sprint toward her voice, my body already bracing for a fight.

My nails lengthen into claws, ready to tear. My fangs extend. My blood boils, my skin itches. Soren’s on high alert inside me, ready to shift if needed.

I find Vanessa in a dimly lit alley. Another werewolf has her pinned, gripping her hard. Without thinking, I grab the guy by his jacket and yank him back, hurling him away from her.

He doesn’t have time to react or figure out what’s happening. I’m on him, pounding his face with my fists. My claws rake deep, blood spraying everywhere. He tries to shield himself, tries to hit back—a pathetic attempt. He’s a weak, disgusting punk. A grain of sand fighting a tsunami. Just a worm with too much luck to still be breathing.

I’m Romeo. A 250-year-old alpha. I carry the weight of my pack, our history, our pain, our losses. I’m the force that survived wars, a curse, and time itself. He doesn’t stand a chance. There’s no mercy in me now. I lose myself in this savage frenzy, this ritual of destruction. All I want is to rip every breath from his body.

How dare he touch her like that? How dare he try to dominate her? Hurt her?

I can’t think of anything but tearing this bastard’s life away. But then her voice—Vanessa’s voice—pulls me out of the violent trance.

“Romeo! Romeo, stop!” she screams behind me. “You’ll kill him!”

A hand touches my shoulder, and I spin, ready to take down whoever dared lay a hand on me. But halfway through, I see it’s Vanessa. She’s terrified and steps back, afraid I might hurt her.

I take in her appearance—her shirt torn from the collar to half the sleeve, exposing one breast. Her skin is marked, red, with small scratches on her face, shoulder, and collarbone. Her hair’s a wild mess, like it’s been yanked hard. Her whole body’s trembling, muscles tensed as if trying to shrink into themselves. She’s in shock.

Her heartbeat’s erratic, racing. Seeing her like this fills me with anguish and an even stronger urge to kill the scum who did this.

“Give her your jacket,” Soren says, his voice soft.

I follow his suggestion, shrugging off my jacket and holding it out to her. I want to drape it over her, pull her close, tell her everything’s okay now. But I know she doesn’t like touch, and doing that now would be awful.

With trembling hands, Vanessa takes the jacket and puts it on. We stand in silence for an agonizing moment.

“Come on, let’s go home,” I say finally, my voice low.

She lifts her eyes to me, still clutching the jacket like it’s her armor. A fragile shield against a cruel world.

“Home?” she whispers, her voice laced with apprehension.

I nod and extend my hand, trying to offer some sense of safety in this terrifying moment.

Vanessa stares at my gesture, her heart still racing, wary.

“Yeah, you’ll be safe there, I promise,” I say sincerely.

She inches toward me, her fingers brushing my palm. The touch is slow, hesitant, but it sends a jolt through me like a lightning strike.

“She’s the one who’ll save us,” Soren whispers in my mind.

“By the gods, let that be true,” I reply, feeling my soul anchor to hers with a force that defies even the laws of nature.