“That matters to you,” I observed.
“That matters to me more than anything.” Silas’s voice was intense in a way it rarely was, the humor stripped away to reveal the person underneath. “I’ve been alone in crowds for eight years because everyone I meet is performing and I can feel them performing and it’s exhausting. With her, I don’t have to pretend I don’t know what she’s feeling. She knows I know, and she’s okay with it.”
“So we’re doing this,” Beau said. Not a question this time. A statement of fact.
“We’re doing this,” I confirmed. “All of us. No backing out, no second-guessing. We prove to her that we’re not Nathan. That we see exactly who she is and we’re not going anywhere.”
“We prove she’s not too much,” Silas added.
“We prove she’sexactlyenough,” Beau finished.
A sound from upstairs made all three of us freeze. Not distress, exactly, but need. The kind of vocalization that came from deep heat, from biology demanding attention, from an omega who was trying to ride out the waves alone.
Sable’s scent had been building all afternoon, filling the house with cedar smoke and autumn rain and something that made every alpha instinct I had demand I go to her. Every breath brought more of it, stronger and more present, until the entire safe house smelled like her.
Like pack.
But we’d promised to give her space. To let her have privacy until she asked for more. To not crowd her, not push her, not make her feel like we were taking advantage of her vulnerability.
“How long?” Beau asked quietly.
Silas closed his eyes, and I knew he was using that scent-sensitivity he tried to hide. Reading the pheromones in the air, interpreting them, understanding what her biology was doing even from a floor away.
When he opened his eyes, they were darker than usual. Affected by her scent, by the call of a compatible omega in heat.
“She’s in the thick of it,” he said, voice rough. “Another hour, maybe two, and the heat will peak. That’s when she’ll need us most. When the waves get too intense to manage alone.”
“Ifshe wants us,” I corrected.
“She wants us. She’s just scared to admit it.” Silas rubbed his temples like his head hurt. Probably did. Scent-sensitivity during an omega’s heat had to be overwhelming. “Fear and desire smell almost the same when they’re this intense. Both spike adrenaline, both cause elevated heart rate, both make scent stronger. But I can tell the difference.”
“What’s the difference?” Beau asked.
“Fear pulls back. Desire leans in.” Silas looked up at the ceiling, toward where Sable was alone in my bedroom. “She’s leaning in. She wants us. She’s just terrified we’ll hurt her.”
The weight of that settled over the room. The responsibility. The trust she was offering even though she’d been betrayed before. The risk she was taking by letting us into her space during heat, when she’d be at her most vulnerable.
I thought about my team. About Martinez and Keane and Johnson and Michaels and Kowalski and Davis. Six names I’d memorized, six faces I saw every time I closed my eyes. Six brothers who’d trusted my tactical assessment, my judgment, my leadership.
I’d led them into that compound based on intelligence that turned out to be wrong. Made the call to proceed despite signs that should have warned me off. Put them in position to be ambushed because I’d missed something critical in the planning stage.
And they died while I survived.
For three years, I’d lived with that guilt. Convinced myself I didn’t deserve happiness, didn’t deserve connection, didn’t deserve anything good because I’d failed so completely at the one thing that mattered. Keeping my team safe.
But Sable didn’t see failure when she looked at me. She saw someone who could keep her safe. Someone who understood threat assessment and tactical planning and how to make hard decisions under pressure. Someone strong enough to carry the same kind of damage she carried and still function.
Maybe that was enough.
Maybe surviving didn’t mean I had to spend the rest of my life punishing myself.
Maybe I could build something new without betraying the memory of what I’d lost.
“I’m going to check the perimeter,” I said, setting down my coffee. “Make sure the property is secure. When she calls for us, I want to be ready.”
Outside, the late afternoon sun was breaking through the remaining storm clouds, turning everything golden. The property looked exactly like it should. Trees standing tall after the storm, debris scattered but nothing major, the approach road clear and visible from the house.
Defensible. Isolated. Safe.
