When we broke apart, Beau was grinning. “That was disgustingly healthy communication. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I said, but I was smiling too. “I’m still going to struggle with the controlling thing.”
“As long as you struggle with it instead of just doing it,” Sable said, settling back into the nest with visible exhaustion. “I can work with struggle. It’s the assumption that you know better than I do that I can’t tolerate.”
“Noted.” I stood, recognizing that she needed rest more than continued conversation. “Sleep. We’ll handle whatever comes next together.”
“Together,” she agreed, already drifting off.
I headed back downstairs with Beau and Silas, leaving her to recover in peace. The conversation had been harder thanI’d expected, but through the bond I could feel that it had been necessary. That she needed to know I’d challenge my own instincts for her.
That I’d choose partnership over protection, even when it went against every trained response I had.
“Coffee’s probably cold,” Beau observed as we reached the kitchen.
“I’ll make more.” I moved to the machine with the same careful attention I’d given the first pot. Because making coffee for the pack mattered. Because small acts of service were how I showed care when words failed.
Because learning to be a partner instead of a commander was going to take practice, and I might as well start with the small things.
Through the bond, I felt Sable’s contentment as she drifted into real sleep. Felt her trust that we’d be here when she woke. Felt the beginning of something that looked like home.
Maybe Beau was right. Maybe I didn’t need to plan for every contingency. Maybe I just needed to show up and be present and trust that we’d figure it out together.
It was the most terrifying thought I’d had in years.
And it was also the most hopeful.
Chapter 19
Beau
The nightmare came for me just before dawn.
I was back in the water. Dark and cold and moving too fast. The vehicle sinking ahead of me, the omega’s face pressed against the window, small hands beating against the glass. I was swimming as hard as I could, but the current kept pushing me back. Kept stealing precious seconds while the car settled deeper.
I reached the vehicle just as water covered the windows completely. Tried to break the glass, but my hands wouldn’t work right. Tried to pull open the door, but the pressure differential held it closed. Tried everything I’d been trained to do, but nothing worked.
And then the faces disappeared behind the dark water, and I knew I was too late.
Again.
I jerked awake gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs, the scent of river water so strong I could taste it. For a momentI couldn’t remember where I was. Not the fire station. Not my apartment. Somewhere warm and dark and safe.
Dane’s safe house.
The pack bonds.
Sable.
I felt her stir through the connection we now shared, felt her awareness spike as my distress bled through the bond. Within seconds, the bedroom door opened and she was there, wearing my shirt and looking sleep-rumpled and concerned.
“Beau?” Her voice was soft, careful. “I felt your panic. Are you okay?”
“Nightmare,” I managed, my voice rough. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t apologize.” She crossed to where I’d apparently fallen asleep in the armchair by the window, too wired to go to one of the other bedrooms. “Can I sit with you?”
I nodded, and she settled onto the arm of the chair, close enough that I could smell her scent. Cedar smoke and autumn rain and pack. The scent that had been haunting me for weeks now lived permanent in my senses through the bond.
