Four Bikers Alphas And Their Broken Omega.

Elara

"Sir, you cannot remove this patient!" A nurse with auburn hair blocked our path, her clipboard clutched to her chest. "She still needs medical supervision. The doctor hasn't discharged her..."

"She's being discharged now." Kade's voice was flat, leaving room for no argument. "Move."

"I can't. If you take her against medical advice, we'll have to call security. The sheriff is still..."

"The sheriff is gone." Ryker stepped forward. "And if you call security, I'll make sure every single one of them regrets it."

The nurse's face went pale. She opened her mouth to argue, but Dante was already moving past her, his silver-gray eyes scanning the hallway. His hand rested casually on the handle of a blade tucked into his belt...visible enough to intimidate.

I already learned the other bikers name… Dante was the one with silver gray eyes and Ryker was the one with golden-brown eyes.

"Let's go," Kade ordered. "Now."

Jax tightened his grip on me and strode forward. The nurse scrambled out of the way, her protests dying in her throat. I could feel the other patients staring from their rooms, the weight of a hundred eyes watching us leave.

I should have been grateful. I should have been relieved.

Instead, I just felt terrified.

The parking lot was cold and dark when we emerged. A row of motorcycles gleamed under the overhang.

Jax set me down on the back of the largest bike. The leather seat was worn and soft. My broken leg screamed in protest, but I bit down on the pain and gripped the handle behind me.

"Hold on," Jax growled, swinging onto the bike in front of me. "Tight."

Before I could respond, the engine roared to life. The vibration rumbled through my chest, through my bones, through every nerve ending in my body.

Jax's massive frame blocked the wind as he twisted the throttle, and the bike lurched forward.

The other three bikes fell into formation around us. Kade on my right, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the road ahead. Ryker on my left and Dante bringing up the rear.

I pressed my cheek against Jax's back, feeling the heat of his body through the leather cut, and tried not to think about the fact that I had just been kidnapped by four bikers who claimed I was some kind of werewolf.

It was impossible. It was insane. It was... But Kade's eyes had flickered gold. I had seen it. And when Jax had carried me through the hospital, I had caught the faintest scent on his skin... like pine and something else. Something that made my stomach flutter in a way I didn't understand.

We reached the clubhouse an hour later.

The compound was massive. The main building was a two-story structure with a wraparound porch and a garage that could have housed a dozen bikes.

Jax killed the engine and swung off the bike. Before I could protest, he lifted me into his arms again, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing.

"I can walk," I muttered.

"Like hell you can. Your leg's busted."

"I've walked on worse."

Jax snorted. "Yeah? When?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to talk about the time Margaret had locked me out of the house in the middle of winter and I'd had to walk three miles through the snow to find shelter. I didn't want to talk about any of it.

He carried me through the front door, and the clubhouse swallowed me whole.

The noise was overwhelming. Music blared from a jukebox in the corner. Men in leather cuts clustered around pool tables and bar stools, drinking beer and laughing. Women draped themselves over laps and leaned against walls.

Every single head turned when we entered.

A tall woman with platinum hair and amber eyes stepped forward. "Jax, what the hell is this? You brought a stray home?"

"Back off, Candy." Jax growled. "She's under pack protection."

Candy's eyes narrowed. "Pack protection? Since when does the President..."

"I gave the order."

Kade stepped up beside us, his presence silencing the room. His eyes swept over the crowd, and one by one, the club members looked away. Even Candy dropped her gaze, her red lips pressing into a thin line of frustration.

"Put her in the back room," Kade ordered Jax. "Second floor. The one with the lock."

Jax didn't argue. He carried me through the crowd, up a narrow staircase, and down a hallway lined with closed doors. The room at the end was small but clean, with a bed, a nightstand, and a window.

He set me down on the bed carefully, his hands lingering on my shoulders longer than necessary.

"Stay put," he said. "Don't try to run. You won't make it."

"I won't run," I lied.

Jax studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.

I sat there in the silence, my heart pounding and my leg throbbing and my mind racing. The room was warm. The bed was soft. But all I could think about was the look on Jax's face when he had carried me through the clubhouse. The way his nostrils had flared when he caught my scent. The way his hands had tightened on my body when Dante had brushed past us.

The way all four of them had looked at me like I was something precious.

The door burst open hours later.

Kade filled the frame, his face carved from stone. Behind him, Ryker, Jax, and Dante crowded the hallway, their expressions grim.

"We've got a problem," Kade said flatly. "Your husband is here. At the gate."

My blood turned to ice.

"Damian? He found me? How?"

Ryker shrugged. "The sheriff must have tipped him off. He's demanding we hand you over."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could form the words, a voice echoed up from the main floor below.

"Where is my wife? I know she's in there. Bring her out, or I'll have every one of you arrested!"