Chapter 20

Claire's POV Chaos erupted the moment Theo appeared in the doorway. One second, Dave was pressing me into the mattress, his weight suffocating, his intentions horrifyingly clear. The next, he was being hurled across the room with such force that the drywall cracked where his body connected with it. Theo pulled me away from the bed, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the murderous rage radiating from him. The moment I caught his scent, my wildly racing heart began to settle, recognizing safety even as my mind struggled to process what was happening. His expression was terrifying—I'd never seen him like this before. Gone was the composed CEO, the man of careful control and measured responses. In his place stood a predator, eyes black with rage, features transformed by a wrath so intense it seemed to distort the air around him. Dave recovered quickly, his Alpha pride unable to tolerate the challenge to his dominance. He lunged at Theo with a feral snarl, but it was like watching a housecat attack a lion. Theo sidestepped his charge with contemptuous ease, then delivered a blow that sent Dave crashing into the television. What followed wasn't a fight so much as a methodical demolition. Every punch Theo threw landed with deadly force, each one filled with murderous intent. Dave's face quickly became a bloody mess, yet Theo showed no sign of stopping, no hint of satisfaction or completion. Blow after blow, relentless and precise, as if he intended to erase Dave from existence. Despite everything Dave had tried to do to me, the savagery of the beating began to frighten me. This wasn't justice; it was vengeance teetering on the edge of something far darker. "Theo, stop!" My voice was hoarse, barely audible even to my own ears. "Please, stop!" He didn't seem to hear me, lost in the red haze of his rage. Another punishing blow sent Dave's head snapping back, blood spattering the hotel room's pale walls. The door, already hanging from its hinges, was pushed open again. Beta Charles rushed in, taking in the scene with a single glance before moving to restrain his Alpha. "Alpha, that's enough," he said firmly, grabbing Theo's arm as it drew back for another strike. "He's down. It's over." Theo shrugged him off with such force that Charles stumbled back several steps. This wasn't just an Alpha—this was a man possessed, unreachable through normal means. I was suddenly terrified that he might actually kill Dave—not out of concern for my attacker, but for what it would mean for Theo. An Alpha killing another Alpha, even in defense of an Omega, would bring consequences. Pack politics, law enforcement, public scandal... all could destroy everything Theo had built. With no other choice, I summoned every bit of strength I had left, drawing on some reserve I didn't know I possessed. Though my voice still trembled, I put everything I had into that single word: "Theodore." Not Mr. Valmont. Not Alpha. His given name, soft but clear. His movements froze mid-strike, as if I'd pressed a pause button. For a heartbeat, no one in the room moved—not Theo with his fist still raised, not Charles watching warily from the doorway, not even Dave's semiconscious form slumped against the wall. Slowly, Theo turned to me, the black rage in his eyes receding just enough to reveal the steel gray beneath. Recognition flickered across his features, followed by something that looked almost like shame at being caught in such a primal state. In three swift strides, he was at my side, his hands hovering over me as if afraid to touch, his eyes carefully scanning every inch of me. His voice, when he finally spoke, held a tremor I'd never heard before. "Are you hurt? Did he—" He couldn't finish the question, fear and fury warring in his expression. I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to cover the tears in my dress. "You came before he...," I couldn't complete the sentence either, the reality of what I'd narrowly escaped suddenly crashing over me. Without hesitation, Theo pulled me into his arms, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other arm wrapped protectively around my waist. His heart thundered against my ear, his body still vibrating with the aftershocks of adrenaline and rage. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Claire. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe." In the security of his embrace, the dam finally broke. I sobbed uncontrollably against his chest, my hands fisting in his shirt as if afraid he might disappear. All the terror, the helplessness, the violation I had felt—it poured out in great, heaving waves that seemed to come from the very core of my being. Theo held me through it all, his arms a fortress against the world, his voice a constant murmur of reassurance. I was vaguely aware of Charles calling someone, of Dave being dragged from the room by hotel security, but it all seemed distant and unimportant compared to the solid reality of Theo's presence. When my sobs finally subsided to hiccupping breaths, Theo gently pulled back, just enough to look at my face. His thumb brushed over the bruise on my cheek, his eyes darkening momentarily before he suppressed the renewed surge of anger. "Let's get out of this room," he said quietly. I nodded, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else. But as I tried to stand, my legs gave way beneath me—whether from the lingering effects of whatever drug Dave had used or the emotional aftermath, I couldn't tell. Without a word, Theo swept me into his arms, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. I should have protested, should have insisted on walking on my own, but the truth was, I didn't want to. Being held by him felt like the only safe place in a world that had suddenly revealed its underlying danger. He carried me down the hall to another room, where Charles was already waiting with the door held open. This room was identical to the one we'd left, yet completely different—untainted by violence or fear. Theo set me carefully on the edge of the bed, kneeling before me to examine my face more closely. His fingers were impossibly gentle as they traced the outline of the bruise, his eyes cataloging every mark, every tear in my dress. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled. "We can have a doctor—" "No," I interrupted, shaking my head. The thought of more strangers, more examinations, made my skin crawl. "I just want to... I need..." What did I need? I couldn't articulate it, but my body knew. I wrapped my arms around myself again, suddenly aware of a different kind of discomfort. Dave's scent still clung to me—that cloying cologne mixed with the sour stench of his malice. It coated my skin like an invisible film, making me feel sick and suffocated. Theo's expression darkened as he noticed my distress. "What were you thinking, going to a place like that alone?" he demanded, his tone shifting abruptly from gentle to scolding. "Do you have any idea how dangerous—" "I wasn't alone," I whispered, my voice still raw from crying. "Jennifer was there. And I wouldn't have been there at all if..." The words died in my throat, but the accusation hung in the air between us. If you hadn't rejected me. If you hadn't pushed me away. If you hadn't left me feeling so worthless. His expression shifted, the anger draining away to be replaced by something that looked almost like guilt. Before he could respond, a new wave of revulsion swept through me. I could still feel Dave's hands on my skin, still smell his scent mingling with mine. Without thinking, I began frantically rubbing at my arms, my neck, anywhere he had touched me. The movement quickly became desperate, my nails leaving red welts across my skin as I tried to scrub away the memory of his touch. "Claire, stop!" Theo caught my hands in his, alarm replacing every other emotion in his eyes. "You're hurting yourself." I looked up at him, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I can still feel him," I choked out. "I can still smell him on me. I can't—I need—" My voice broke on a sob. Something shifted in Theo's expression—understanding, perhaps, or resignation. He released my hands, but only to frame my face with his palms, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. "What do you need, Claire?" he asked softly, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Tell me." "I need you," I whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside me. "I need your scent on me, not his. I need you to make me forget what almost happened. Please, Theo. Please help me." For a heartbeat, he remained utterly still, his eyes searching mine as if looking for any sign of doubt or confusion. I felt the precise moment his resolve crumbled—a subtle shift in his posture, a barely audible exhale. I didn't give him time to reconsider. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his in a kiss born of desperation and need. For a single terrifying second, he didn't respond, and I feared he would push me away again. Then his arms wrapped around me, drawing me closer as he returned the kiss with a hunger that matched my own. This time, he didn't pull away.