"One."
The word didn’t echo. It dropped onto the marble floor like a lead weight.
Jane clung to the ruined lapels of Michael’s suit. Her skin was screaming. The feral venom in her veins wasn't just burning; it was pooling low in her stomach, heavy and wet and agonizing. She pressed her face into his throat, chasing the scent of pine and violence, trying to ground herself in the physical reality of his body.
The fluorescent light overhead flickered, emitting a high-pitched buzz that scraped against her eardrums.
The captain of the guard’s hands slicked with sweat against his tactical rifle. Fifty men. One Alpha. It was basic math. But the silver gas clearing from the hallway, and the blood seeping from under the ruined vault door, told a different story.
"Two." Michael’s voice was comp
