“What the hell was that?”
“He was too aggressive. The scenario called for verbal intimidation, not physical.”
“I know what the scenario called for. I wrote it.” She crossed her arms, and I recognized the defensive posture for what it was. Walls going up. Distance being established. “I had it handled.”
“He had you backed against a wall.”
“That was part of the simulation. I was about to execute a defensive disarm when you decided to go all alpha protector and ruin my teaching moment.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Because she was right. The scenario specs had specifically included a section on close-quarters defense tactics. The trainee was supposed to crowd her. She was supposed to demonstrate proper response.
And I’d just undermined her authority in front of her entire class because my alpha had decided she needed protection regardless of whether she actually did.
This was exactly why I didn’t do relationships. Why I kept everyone at careful distance. Because the moment someone mattered, the moment I cared whether they were safe, I stopped thinking tactically and started reacting emotionally. And Sable wasn’t even someone I was in a relationship, which made her even more dangerous to get involved with.
Because emotional reactions got people killed.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “That was out of line.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting agreement. “Damn right it was out of line. I don’t need a bodyguard, Hollow. I’ve been doing this job for seven years, and I’ve handled aggressive alphas before. What I can’t handle is someone stepping in and making me look incompetent in front of people I’m supposed to be training.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“No?” She took a step closer, and I caught her scent more clearly now. Cedar smoke and autumn rain, but underneath the suppressants, something complex and wounded that made my alpha sit up and insist she needed protection. “Then what was your intention? Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you decided I couldn’t handle myself.”
I wanted to explain that it wasn’t about her competence. That watching that kid crowd her had triggered something primal and protective that I hadn’t felt in three years. That for half a second, I’d forgotten she was the emergency coordinator and remembered only that she was an omega whose scent made every instinct I had scream MINE.
But I couldn’t say any of that. Didn’t have the right to say any of that. Had given up that right when I’d survived and my team hadn’t.
“It won’t happen again,” I said instead. “You have my word.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling she could see right through the careful control I’d spent years building. See past the tactical precision and military bearing to the guilt I carried like a second shadow.
“See that it doesn’t. Now get back in there and explain to that trainee exactly what he did wrong tactically, so he learns something instead of just being scared of you.”
“Copy that.” I moved toward the door, then paused. “For what it’s worth, you would have executed that disarm perfectly. Your stance was solid.”
“I know it was,” she said, but there was less heat in her voice now. “I’ve been training in defensive tactics since I was nineteen.”
I nodded and went back inside, where fifteen trainees were pretending to study their training manuals while obviously waiting to see what would happen next. The kid who’d crowded Sable looked somewhere between embarrassed and terrified.
I pointed to the tactical layout on the wall screen. “Matthews. Come here.”
He approached like he was walking to his own execution.
“Show me what you did wrong.”
He blinked. “Sir?”
“The scenario. Walk me through your approach and tell me where you deviated from proper tactical procedure.”
Understanding dawned, followed by relief that he wasn’t being kicked out of the program. He moved to the screen and started talking through his positioning, and I made mental notes on every point where his aggression had overridden his training.
Sable slipped back into the room and took up her position at the observation desk, not looking at me. But I was aware of her presence like a magnetic north, pulling at something I’d tried very hard to bury after my team died.
The rest of the training session went smoothly. We ran the scenario three more times with different trainees, and Sable got to demonstrate her defensive disarm on a beta who followed the tactical parameters correctly. It was efficient, controlled, and exactly as effective as I’d known it would be.
When we dismissed for the day, I expected her to leave immediately. Instead, she pulled up security footage on her tablet and gestured for me to join her at the observation desk.
