She looked at each of us, and I could feel her emotions churning. Fear and frustration and something that felt like grief, like she was mourning the control she’d built her entire life around.
“I don’t know where to go,” she said again.
“We’ll figure it out,” Beau told her. “Together. You’re not alone in this.”
“Why are you three doing this?” The question came out raw, unfiltered. “Why do you care?”
I answered before I could stop myself. “Because you matter. Because the past six weeks have made it pretty clear that we’re all heading somewhere together, even if we’ve been too scared toadmit it. And because I can’t watch you put yourself in danger trying to prove you don’t need anyone.”
“We’ll take care of you,” Beau added quietly. “After. When this is over. You coordinate from somewhere safe, we’ll be your hands in the field. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen.”
Dane was the last to speak, his voice carrying absolute certainty. “You’re not facing this alone. We’re pack, even if we haven’t said it out loud yet. And pack protects each other.”
Sable stared at him. “We’re not pack. We barely know each other.”
“We know enough.” He pulled out his phone. “I have a place. Secure safe house on the mountain. Designed for exactly this kind of scenario. Fully stocked, generator backup, communication equipment. You can coordinate from there, and you’ll be safe.”
“With all three of you,” she said slowly.
“If you’ll have us.” His eyes met hers. “We’re not asking for anything you’re not ready to give. But we’re not leaving you alone during your heat, either. Not when we can help.”
The silence stretched. I could feel her processing, weighing options, trying to maintain the control that defined her.
Finally, she nodded. “Four hours to set up remote coordination. Then we go.”
“Two hours,” Dane corrected. “You’re already showing pre-heat symptoms. We need buffer time.”
“Three hours. That’s my final offer.”
He studied her, then nodded. “Three hours. But I’m not leaving your side until we’re at the safe house.”
“Neither am I,” Beau added.
I grinned despite the exhaustion and stress. “Someone’s gotta keep you all from being too serious. Count me in.”
Sable looked at the three of us, and for the first time since I’d known her, I saw the walls crack. Saw the vulnerability underneath all that competent authority.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
We had three hours to get her somewhere safe before her heat hit.
And maybe, just maybe, we had a chance at becoming the pack we were all too scared to admit we wanted.
Chapter 13
Sable
The next two hours passed in a blur of coordination and denial.
I knew what was happening. Knew my body was betraying me despite years of careful suppressant management and rigid control. But acknowledging it meant surrendering, and I’d spent five years proving I didn’t need to surrender to anyone.
Except my biology wasn’t asking permission.
I sat in the command center with my tablet and radio, working through the handoff protocols with Margaret, the county emergency manager. She was competent and experienced, more than capable of handling the coordination for the final stages of storm recovery. But it still felt like failure.
Like I was abandoning my post because my omega biology decided now was the time to inconvenience everyone.
“Road clearing is eighty percent complete,” I told her, pulling up the status map. “Utilities report power restoration to non-flood zones should be done by eighteen hundred hours. Thethree evacuation shelters will stay open through tomorrow night, then we’ll transition remaining displaced residents to temporary housing through the Red Cross.”
