Jaxon's POV

The taste of blood and dirt fills my mouth as consciousness creeps back. My head throbs like someone's beating it with a sledgehammer, and every muscle in my body screams in protest as I try to move.

'How long was I out?'

The sky above is pitch black, no hint of dawn. Could be midnight, could be three in the morning. Terror claws at my chest as I stumble to my feet, my legs shaking.

'She's been in there for hours. Hours with Victoria and the others.'

I sprint toward the warehouse, branches tearing at my clothes, my wolf howling with panic inside my chest. Each step sends shockwaves through my skull, but I don't care. Nothing matters except getting to her.

The warehouse door hangs open, creaking in the night breeze.

The silence is wrong. Too complete, too empty.

I step inside and the smell hits me firstblood, so much blood that the metallic tang coats the back of my throat and makes bile rise in my stomach. My wolf recoils in horror, whimpering like a wounded pup.

Then I see her.

Moira lies crumpled on the concrete floor like a broken marionette, her body completely exposed, dark crimson stains spreading beneath her in patterns that make my stomach lurch violently. Her skinGod, her skinis a canvas of unspeakable violence. Burns from cigarettes and worse cover her arms and torso in angry red welts. Cuts slice across her ribs, some so deep I can see the white of bone beneath. Bruises bloom across her flesh in shades of purple, black, and sickly yellow, covering nearly every inch of visible skin.

Her face... Christ, her face is barely recognizable. One eye is swollen completely shut, the socket a grotesque purple balloon. Blood crusts around her nose, which sits at an unnatural anglebroken. Her lips are split in multiple places, and dark blood has pooled and dried beneath her head.

"Oh God. Moira, no."

The words come out broken, devastated, barely human. This is my sister. My little sister who used to follow me around when we were children, before Dad twisted everything, before I let him poison my mind against her. Before I became a monster.

'What have we done? What have I done?'

I drop to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over her broken form, terrified to touch her and cause more damage. Her breathing is so shallow, so labored, that I have to lean close to make sure she's still alive. Each breath sounds wet, rattlinginternal damage.

The guilt hits me like a physical blow, doubling me over. "I'm sorry," I choke out, my voice cracking. "I'm so fucking sorry, Moira. This is my fault. All of it."

Three weeks ago I was part of this. Three weeks ago I would have stood by and watched, told myself she deserved it. The thought makes me retch, acid burning my throat.

'I have to get her help.'

I yank off my jacket with trembling hands and wrap it around her as carefully as possible, trying not to jostle any injuries. Her skin is ice cold, hypothermic cold, and she doesn't react at all when I lift her into my arms. She's completely limp, utterly unconscious, her head lolling against my chest like a rag doll's.

'She's too still. Too quiet. What if she doesn't wake up? What if I'm too late?'

My phone shakes violently in my hands as I dial Rosalie's number. It rings once, twice

"Jaxon? What's wrong?" Her voice is thick with sleep, but alert. She knows I wouldn't call this late unless it was an emergency.

"I need you at the helipad with your medical helicopter. Right now. Have the nanny take care of Penelope." My voice cracks, breaking completely. "Moira—they hurt her bad, Rose. Really bad. She's—she's barely breathing."

"Oh my god." I hear rustling, the sound of her getting out of bed. "How bad? Jaxon, how bad?"

"She's unconscious. Covered in blood. Broken bones, internal bleedingI don't know" My throat closes up completely. "I don't know if she's going to make it. There's so much blood, Rose. So much fucking blood."

"I'm heading to the helipad now. The helicopter's already fueledI'll have our medical team meet us there." Her voice turns sharp, efficient, but I can hear the fear underneath. "We're bringing her to Crimson Eclipse. Get her here now."

"Rose, I"

"Just get her here safe, baby. We'll fix the rest later."

The line goes dead. I cradle Moira closer to my chest and run for the car, my wolf lending me desperate speed. Her blood soaks through my shirt, warm and sticky against my chest.

'Hold on. Just hold on a little longer. Please, Moira. Please don't die on me.'

*****

I screech to a halt at the helipad and see Rosalie running toward the car, her hair flying behind her, still in pajamas with a jacket thrown over them. The Crimson Eclipse pack's medical helicopter sits waiting, rotors already spinning, the sound deafening in the night air.

"Jesus, Jaxon," she breathes when she sees Moira's condition through the car window, her face going completely white. "What did they do to her?"

"Everything," I choke out as I carefully lift Moira from the passenger seat. Her head lolls back at a sickening angle, and fresh blood drips from her mouth. "Victoria was in charge."

Rosalie's face goes white with understanding, then hardens with rage. "Those fucking monsters." She helps me carry Moira toward the helicopter, supporting her legs while I hold her torso. "How could theyshe's just a girl. She's just a fucking girl."

"The medic's already on board," she says as we climb inside, her voice shaking with barely contained fury. "Full medical setup."

The helicopter's cabin has been converted into a mobile ICU. A paramedic in scrubs rushes forward, her face going pale as she takes in Moira's condition.

"Jesus Christ," the medic whispers, then snaps into professional mode. "How long has she been unconscious?"

"I don't know. At least a few hours." I sink into a seat, my hands shaking with leftover adrenaline and rage.

Rosalie sits beside me and grabs my hand as the medic immediately gets to workchecking vitals, starting IVs, connecting monitoring equipment. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, but it's too fast, too erratic.

"She's alive," Rosalie whispers, squeezing my fingers so hard it hurts. "She's going to make it. She has to make it."

The helicopter lifts off into the darkness, carrying my sister toward the only real safety she's ever going to know.

'You got her out. She's safe now.'

But the relief is poisoned by guilt so intense it makes me physically sick. I should have acted sooner. Should have trusted my instincts when I first started having doubts about our family's methods. Should have protected her instead of participating in her torture for years.

'How many times could I have stopped this? How many times did I choose to look away?'

I watch the medic work over Moira's still form and make a silent promise, one I'll keep even if it kills me.

This ends now. Whatever it takes, I'll make sure she never goes back to that hell. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I've done.

*****

Unknown's POV

The paperwork on my desk explodes into the air as my wolf jerks awake like he's been struck by lightning.

My wolf howls inside my mind, one word echoing with desperate, agonizing urgency.

'MATE.'

My brother's chair crashes to the floor across the office. His eyes flash gold, wild and desperate.

"Both of us?" he snarls, his voice already roughening with his wolf.

'She's hurt.' The knowledge slams into me like a physical blow. 'Badly hurt.'

"WHO?" The word tears from my throat in a roar that rattles the windows. "WHO DARES TO HURT MY MATE?"

My brother's fist slams through his desk, wood splintering under the force. "I'll fucking kill them. I'll tear them apart with my bare hands."

The pain hits us both simultaneouslyagony so intense I double over, gasping. It's her pain, transmitted through the bond, and it's killing me.

"She's dying," I choke out, my vision blurring red. "They're killing her."

"Where?" My brother's canines have extended, his wolf barely contained. "WHERE IS SHE?"

I close my eyes and let the pull guide me. "South. Moving fast. Helicopter."

"Then we hunt." His voice is pure Alpha command now, deadly and final. "We find whoever did this to our mate, and we make them pay."

The office door explodes off its hinges as we stride through it, our wolves taking control.

A pack member rushes down the hallway, takes one look at our faces, and immediately drops his head in submission before scurrying away.

"They have no idea what they've done," my brother growls, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

I nod, my jaw clenched with deadly promise. "When we find them, they'll learn."

'Hold on, mate. We're coming.'

Our lives will never be the same.