I moved closer, close enough that she had to look at me. “When did you last check your suppressant patch?”
Her hand went to her arm automatically, defensive. “This morning. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Your scent is strong enough that every alpha in this building is noticing. You’re going into heat, Sable.”
She went very still. “No. I can’t be. My suppressants have never failed before.”
“Stress can trigger early heat. Proximity to compatible alphas can override suppressants. And you’ve been running on empty for eighteen hours in a building full of emergency responders.” I kept my voice gentle, but firm. “You need to acknowledge what’s happening before it becomes dangerous.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And I’m not saying this to control you or tell you what to do. I’m saying this because being a scent-sensitive alpha means I can literally feel your biology shifting, and you’re maybe six hours from heat hitting full force.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Scent-sensitive?”
I hadn’t meant to tell her that. Hadn’t told anyone in Hollow Haven, because people got weird about it. But the exhaustion and stress made me careless.
“Yeah. I can read emotions through pheromones. It’s why I’m good at my job and also why I’m extremely tired right now, because I’ve been feeling everyone’s panic and fear for twelve straight hours.” I rubbed my eyes. “But that’s not the point. The point is, you can’t be here when your heat hits. It’s not safe.”
“I’m the coordinator. People need me.”
“People need you safe. And you won’t be safe here.” I glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Sable, there are seventy alphas in this building. When your heat hits full force, your scent is going to call to all of them. Most willhave enough control to stay away, but not all. And even if they do, you’ll be vulnerable and exposed and that’s not acceptable.”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing. I could feel the fear coming off her in waves, mixed with stubborn determination and something else. Something that felt like longing.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she finally said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “My apartment is twenty minutes away and I can’t drive in this condition. Hotels are full because of evacuees. But I can’t just leave.”
“You’re not leaving. You’re coordinating from somewhere safe where you’re not surrounded by strange alphas.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m texting Beau and Dane. We’ll figure this out.”
“Silas, you can’t just make decisions for me.”
“I’m not making decisions for you. I’m giving you information and support so you can make the right decision for yourself.” I met her eyes. “But I need you to make it fast, because in about four hours, your biology is going to take over and you won’t have a choice.”
I sent the message.Sable’s heat is imminent. Maybe 4-6 hours. She can’t stay here. Need secure location immediately.
Beau’s response came within seconds.On it. Where is she?
Dane’s was even faster.Outside command center. I see her. We need to move now.
I looked up to find both of them converging on our position, moving with the coordinated precision we’d developed over the past twelve hours. Beau from the equipment bay, Dane from the security station, both of them focused entirely on Sable.
When they reached us, the three of us formed a loose triangle around her. Not crowding, not caging, but creating a barrier between her and the rest of the building. Protecting her from attention she didn’t want.
“We’re not doing this here,” Dane said quietly. “Too many people. Supply room, now.”
Sable looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Dane’s tone made her nod. We moved as a unit, the four of us slipping into the supply room and closing the door.
The space was small, packed with emergency equipment and supplies. With four people, it felt claustrophobic. But it was private.
“Your heat’s coming,” Dane said. No question, just statement of fact.
“Silas says I have four to six hours,” Sable replied, defensive. “That’s enough time to coordinate transfer of command to the county emergency manager and establish remote communication protocols.”
“It’s not enough time,” Beau said gently. “And you know it. By the time you get all that set up, you’ll be too far into heat to think straight.”
“I can’t just leave people without coordination.”
“You can coordinate from somewhere safe,” I said. “Remote check-ins, radio communication, whatever you need. But you have to get out of this building before your heat hits full force.”
