At oh-six-hundred, Sable called the end of emergency operations. Shelters would stay open for another twenty-four hours, road crews would start clearing debris, and utilities would begin restoration work. But the crisis part was over.
I found her standing outside the fire station, watching the sunrise break through the clouds. She looked exhausted, her tactical pants dirty and her jacket wrinkled, but there was something peaceful in her expression.
“You stayed up all night,” I said.
“Someone had to.” She glanced at me, and I caught the scent of her. Cedar smoke and autumn rain, strong enough now that I knew her suppressants had completely failed during the night. “You should go home. Get real sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I will. After I finish the post-incident reports.”
“Sable.”
She looked at me fully then, and I saw the exhaustion in her eyes. The weight of carrying everyone’s safety for eighteen hours straight. The toll it took to be the person everyone relied on.
“Let me help,” I said. “With the reports. With whatever you need. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
“I know.” Her voice was soft. “That’s what scares me. Six weeks ago, I was fine being alone. Now I have three alphas who keep showing up and making it harder to convince myself I don’t need anyone.”
“Maybe you don’t need us. Maybe we need you.”
She was quiet for a long moment, looking at me with those dark amber eyes that saw too much. “Maybe,” she finally said.“Maybe that’s what scares me most. That you need me and I’ll fail you the way I apparently fail everyone who tries to get close.”
“You didn’t fail anyone last night. You saved lives through coordination and leadership. You made me believe I could do something I thought was impossible. That’s not failure, Sable. That’s exactly the opposite.”
She looked away, but not before I saw her eyes get bright. “Go home, Beau. Please. I can’t process this right now, not when I’m this tired and my biology is doing things I don’t want to think about.”
I wanted to stay. Wanted to push for more honesty, more openness, more acknowledgment of whatever was happening between the four of us. But I’d learned that Sable gave things in her own time, and pushing only made her retreat.
“Same time tomorrow?” I asked. “Coffee at six?”
“If you show up with coffee after the night we just had, I’m going to think you’re superhuman. Although with how I feel, I think I might just sleep this entire day away, and then maybe I’ll finally feel normal by six AM tomorrow.”
“I’m just someone who knows you’ll need caffeine to get through tomorrow.”
She almost smiled. “Six AM tomorrow. I’ll be there.”
I left her standing in the sunrise and drove home through streets littered with storm debris. My apartment felt too empty, too quiet after the controlled chaos of the command center. But when I finally lay down, I didn’t dream about the omega and pup who’d drowned three years ago.
I dreamed about three people I’d pulled from a flooded vehicle. About Sable’s hand squeezing mine. About the way she’d looked at me and told me she knew I could do it.
For the first time in three years, I woke up without the guilt crushing my chest.
Maybe that was progress.
Maybe that was enough for now.
Chapter 12
Silas
The call came through at oh-seven-hundred, just as the sun was breaking through the storm clouds and making everything look deceptively peaceful.
“Medical One, this is Riverside Shelter. We have a priority case. Male alpha, approximately seventy years old, complaining of chest pain and difficulty breathing. Onset five minutes ago. Patient is diaphoretic and requesting transport.”
I was already moving before the dispatcher finished talking, grabbing my jump bag and signaling to Owen, my beta partner for the shift.
“Tell them we’re rolling. ETA six minutes.”
