Valen snarled, grabbed the robber’s jacket and threw a vicious punch at him. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, throwing another punch as the robber tried to clock him. “Don’t you fucking lay a finger on him.”
“He has a knife,” Sam yelped, shaking when the knife flashed again. “Harris!”
Valen tensed. Harris was struggling with the robber on the ground, throwing a punch. Then the knife flew at him, and Harris hissed.
Sam stopped breathing. Where was Harris stabbed? Was it deep? He needed to do something, before Harris died somehow, before he lost Harris.
“Harris, no!” Sam cried.
“Damn it,” Valen snapped, struggling with the second robber. He’d gotten punched, too. Sam watched as the robber hauled Valen’s head down, brought his knee up to smash his face.
“Valen!”
Valen snarled, swinging his fist at the alpha, one eye squeezed shut.
Gods, Sam wished he could do something, anything to help them. He looked around, couldn’t find anything to wield. Harris grunted, and Valen growled. Flesh thudded on flesh. Something cracked. Sam swayed on his feet, spotting his car keys on the ground.
He crouched gingerly, ducking away from swinging fists. Grabbed the keys, and crept around behind Valen’s opponent. Jabbed him hard in the back with the point of the key, scratching down.
It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but the opponent jerked and twisted around. Sam glimpsed the horror darting through Valen’s face.
The robber reached for Sam, and Valen grabbed him from behind, slammed his face into the roof of the car. Then he did it again, until blood smeared against the car.
“I told you not to touch him,” Valen snarled.
Sam turned, crying out when Harris gasped. There was a dark stain on the knife.
“Valen.” Sam pointed, sick to his stomach. “Help Harris.”
Harris struggled. The first robber had pinned Harris beneath him; Harris’ face was smeared with dark stains, his fingers dripping with blood.
Valen dragged the robber with him, threw him down on the other side of Harris, and reached for the first robber.
Sam leaned against the wall of the drive-in, dizzy. Harris couldn’t die. Neither could Valen.
If anything more terrible happened them... What would Sam do?
“Stay away from them,” Harris snarled, throwing a punch. He grabbed the knife and flung it away, and Sam relaxed by a fraction.
Valen punched the robber. Harris followed up with another. The robber struggled, and Valen snarled, pummeling the guy until he fell still.
Then Valen hauled the robber off Harris, throwing him onto his accomplice. “We’re calling the cops,” Valen said. “Come back here, and we’ll make sure you never walk again.”
Sam leaned into the wall, hardly able to believe his eyes.
He’d pushed Valen away. He’d upset Harris, and Harris had left. Sam had spent two weeks without his alphas; he’d ached for them, his heart sore.
If he spent the rest of his life without Harris, or Valen... he wasn’t sure he could do it. Harris understood the joys of a baby. Valen was impish, throwing jokes around.
If Sam had a chance to mend his mistakes, if Harris and Valen still wanted him... He couldn’t push them away again.
Sam swallowed hard, his eyes burning.
Valen turned to Harris, his expression tight. “Damn it, Harris. You’re cut up pretty bad.”
Under the streetlamp’s glow, blood trickled from a cut on Harris’ forehead, and another across his chest. There was another slash down his arm, and his hand was bloody. Sam held his breath.
“I’m fine,” Harris said. “They’re shallow.”
“I was worried for a bit,” Valen muttered. He was bruised, too, a smear of blood on his face.
They shared an intent look, and for a moment, Sam thought they might kiss.
But Valen turned to Sam, his lips pressed thin. “Sam, you okay?”
Valen strode over. He reached out, then paused, his hand inches from Sam’s face.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, hesitant.
“Yeah,” Sam breathed, spreading his arms.
Valen caught him in a tight hug, winding his fingers through Sam’s hair. His arms were strong around Sam, safe. Sam leaned into him, the tension in his own body finally easing.
His alphas were okay. They were alive. Sam could no longer push his alphas away, not when he could have so easily lost them.
“I was worried about you,” Valen murmured, stroking Sam’s back. “Are you and Landon okay?”
“Yeah,” Sam croaked, his heart squeezing. Valen cared about the baby. “I was so worried about you and Harris.”
“We’re fine,” Valen whispered. “Just gotta get the wounds seen to.”
Sam breathed him in, sandalwood and blood and sweat, his throat tight. Over Valen’s shoulder, he met Harris’ eyes. Harris grimaced, looking away.
So Sam reached out for him, too. “How are you doing? Harris. Does it hurt a lot?”
“Some. Gotta wash the cuts out.” Harris shrugged.
Valen pressed a kiss to Sam’s throat and released him. Stepped back as Harris approached hesitantly. With great care, Sam took Harris’ hand, wincing at the blood soaking through his shirt. Didn’t dare touch him, for fear of aggravating his wounds.
“I’m sorry,” Harris said, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I should’ve known better than to abandon you and Valen.”
Next to Sam, Valen sucked in a sharp breath.
Sam cupped Harris’ jaw, pulled him close, and kissed his lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Both of you.”
Harris quirked a smile, his gaze regretful.
The back door swung open then, and Sam jumped. Wyatt poked his head out. Then his mouth fell open. “What’s going on?”
“Call the cops,” Valen said. “Been a robbery.”
He nodded at the two limp robbers to the side of the parking lot, stalking over to them.
“Oh, gods,” Wyatt said, horrified. “I’m on it.”
He disappeared into the restaurant, yelling for Raph. Sam eyed the robbers. “Will you get in trouble? For beating them up.”
Harris narrowed his eyes. “Not if an omega’s safety is at stake.”
Valen had stalked over to them, nudging at the groaning robbers with his foot. “Got some rope? I’d feel better tying them up.”
“I’ll ask Wyatt for some.” Sam stepped carefully toward the back door, cradling his belly.
“How’s Landon?” Harris asked behind him.
Sam’s heart warmed. Both of them wanted to know about the baby. “Landon’s fine. He’s been kicking.”
Harris
