After they tore her limb from limb, that was.
He'd seen the violence in Gray's eyes yesterday as the older alpha advanced on Stacy with rage lighting him up like a Roman candle. He'd heard it in the other brothers' angry muttering.
If Vonn handed her over, she wouldn't survive ten minutes. But how could he keep her if they could never fully bond? Never claimed each other?
What the hell would he do with her?
It was terrifying to think that Stacy might turn out to be the worst mistake of his life—just one more reckless decision in a lifetime of them.
But as soon as that thought entered his mind, another rose up to destroy it. Not another thought, but a wave of emotion so powerful it took his breath.
Vonn considered himself a goddamn emotional savant compared to some of his more taciturn brothers, whose range was limited to either general contentment or fury. His brothers might give him hell for his benders and joyrides and exploits with the ladies, but he was also the one they confided in.
Sure, Gray got all the credit for settling beefs and building consensus, but on the rare occasions when a brother got drunk enough to want to vent about regrets from his pre-transition life or an urge to settle a score or even plain loneliness, it was Vonn they sought out.
But that didn't mean they'd cut Stacy any slack on his account.
All this ruminating was making Vonn miserable. He climbed out of bed, grabbed his pants off the floor, and left Stacy alone in the bed.
But even as he tried to keep himself busy sharpening the scythe he’d dulled during the recent wheat harvest, he couldn't drag his mind away from the problem.
If he decided to leave her, how could he do so safely? Even her considerable skills wouldn't let her survive in the Boundarylands, not with a bounty on her head. The minute she stepped foot off his property unclaimed and alone, his brothers would tear her throat out for being a beta soldier and spy.
And she wouldn't fare much better with her own government. They'd already proven time and again how little they cared about the well-being of the women they sacrificed to their schemes.
If that bastard Fulmer got his hands on Stacy now, God only knew what he would do—but Vonn would bet that she'd never be heard from again.
As Vonn worked the metal file along the tempered blade, he felt the anger inside him building to a dangerous level. Why couldn't this be easier, like it had been for all the other brothers who had found their mates? Sure, they may have gone through some shit to find their women, but at least they'd ended up with an omega in the end.
For Vonn, there were no guarantees.
Fuck.
He needed to clear his mind. If last night had stretched on and on, today had so far been a roller coaster. Vonn needed to move, to try to beat back his restlessness a little.
Pushing open the front door, he was hit by the cool, peaceful air of late afternoon, redolent with patio stone baking in the sun and new life pushing through the earth in grassy shoots. He started up the footpath that led up the thill in a series of switchbacks at a good clip, determined to wear himself out.
Only a few hours ago, Vonn's whole purpose was to prevent Stacy from slipping from his life entirely. Now, with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue, he was faced with the fact that he might have to let her go.
He reached the top in a satisfying sweat, breathing hard, and rested on a flat rock with a view of the valley. He could see the spot where they'd wrestled on the ground, the grass flattened, the contents of her pack scattered nearby—the few pieces of clothes, the toiletries, the crushed hypodermics that were meant to block them both from their fate. Somewhere in the grass were the shards of the capsule she'd spit out.
At least Fulmer hadn't killed Stacy. He might be a genocidal asshole bent on destroying the Boundarylands, and Vonn wouldn't show him any mercy if he ever got the chance—but the son of a bitch hadn't killed his woman.
…His woman.
Something hitched inside Vonn's chest, like a fishing line going taut when a trout took the bait.
Stacy was his woman. Had been since he touched her. It didn't matter what the betas had done to fuck with the natural process—Vonn wouldn't be denied what was his.
From the moment that he'd first caught her undeniable omega scent, in such low concentration that even his brothers had missed it, Vonn wanted her with an intensity that refused to be denied.
It was different from when he'd stumbled on the omega who would become Trace's mate. Then, he'd been blinded by lust.
But it was different with Stacy. He…needed her.
Vonn leapt to his feet, skidding on gravel dangerously close to the cliff edge. He suddenly knew, all the way down to his bones, that he would not leave Stacy. He couldn't. She was his, and he was hers, whether she ever fully blossomed into her true nature or not.
All he had to do was to make her see that it was the only way.
Now, as Vonn raced back down the mountain, he was driven not by a desire to outrun his racing thoughts but an urgency to put them into action.
A hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake.
Instantly, Stacy rolled into an upright position, fists cocked and ready to defend herself, as her mind raced to orient herself.
A second or two later, she remembered where she was and what she had been doing. Her training filtered that information without judgment, but her heart was another matter. Too often lately, she was letting her feelings pollute her judgment, with disastrous results.
She was sitting up in an alpha's bed. The same bed in which
