I pulled up my notes and prepared to tear apart every mistake with the kind of clinical precision that had made me very good at my job and very difficult to work with, according to Nathan.
But that was before I’d learned that being difficult was better than being something I wasn’t.
The debrief took an hour. I highlighted the communication breakdowns, praised the adaptive triage from Medical One, and pointed out three separate safety violations that could have resulted in secondary casualties in a real scenario. The responses ranged from defensive to thoughtful, which was about what I expected from a first drill with this particular group composition.
“Questions?” I asked, scanning the assembled personnel.
The military alpha raised his hand. “Your structural stability assessment protocol. You’re using the federal standard?”
“Modified for mountain terrain and local building codes,” I corrected. “The federal standard assumes a different foundation type than what we have here.”
“Makes sense.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me with those dark, assessing eyes. “You have military training?”
“EMT and emergency management certifications. I considered enlisting.” I met his gaze directly, something I’d learned to do to combat the assumption that omegas couldn’t maintain eye contact with alphas. “Chose coordination over field work.”
“Dane Hollow.” He extended a hand. “I run tactical training for local businesses. Your modified protocols are solid.”
I shook his hand briefly, noting the calluses and controlled strength. “Sable Wynn. And thank you.”
“If you ever want to consult on active shooter scenarios, I could use your perspective.”
It was a professional offer. Completely reasonable. So why did it feel like something more?
“I’ll consider it,” I said neutrally, releasing his hand and turning to address the full group. “Next drill is scheduled forthree weeks out. Location and scenario parameters will be distributed via email. Dismissed.”
The group scattered, some heading to vehicles, others clustering in small groups to dissect the morning’s performance. I packed up my equipment with efficient movements, already mentally preparing the after-action report I’d need to file with the county emergency management office.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
I turned to find the broad-shouldered firefighter, Calder, standing a respectful distance away. Up close, he was even more imposing. Easily six-two, with shoulders that spoke of years hauling equipment, and hands that looked like they could bend steel. But his voice was quiet, almost gentle, and he wasn’t using his size to crowd me.
“Yes?”
“The structural weakness you mentioned in the community center. The load-bearing wall on the east side.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that seemed unconscious. “I should have caught that in my last inspection.”
“It’s recent damage,” I said, pulling up the building assessment on my tablet. “Hairline fracture in the foundation, probably from the earthquake tremor we had six weeks ago. I only noticed it because I was specifically looking for post-seismic damage.”
“Still.” He looked uncomfortable, like admitting a mistake physically pained him. “It’s my job to catch those things. Someone could have been hurt.”
“But they weren’t.” I studied him, noting the way he held himself with that particular stillness of people carrying guilt they hadn’t earned. “You can’t catch everything, Calder. That’s why we have multi-point inspection protocols.”
“Beau,” he said quietly. “My name is Beau.”
“Sable.” The name felt strange on my tongue in this context, personal instead of professional. “And you did good work today. Your team’s extraction protocols were efficient.”
Something shifted in his expression, pleasure and surprise mixing with what looked like disbelief. Like he wasn’t used to being praised.
Before I could analyze that further, my stomach chose that moment to remind me I’d been running on black coffee since five in the morning. The sound was embarrassingly loud in the relative quiet of the emptying parking lot.
Beau’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Station has coffee and breakfast sandwiches. You’re welcome to join us. Least we can do after you spent your morning making us look incompetent.”
“I didn’t…” I started, then caught the hint of dry humor in his tone. “That was almost a joke, Calder.”
“Beau,” he corrected again.
“Right.” I considered the offer. Professional networking, I told myself. Building relationships with local emergency services was part of my job. It had nothing to do with the way cedar smoke and charcoal seemed to wrap around me whenever he was close, or how my suppressant-muted omega instincts were trying very hard to convince me that this alpha smelled like safety. “Coffee would be good.”
“Follow me to the station?” He was already moving toward a truck that had definitely seen better days, all function over form.
