Dane and Silas appeared from their respective bedrooms, both already gearing up. Small house meant everyone woke when emergency calls came through.
“We’re all going,” Dane said, the tactical part of his brain already working through logistics. “Fire, medical, and security response. That’s our entire pack skill set.”
We piled into my truck because it was closest, arriving on scene within four minutes of dispatch. The house was already showing flames on the second floor, smoke billowing from multiple windows. Captain Rhodes was establishing command, other units arriving and deploying.
And through it all, I could smell Mrs. Jenkins’s scent. Elderly omega in distress, her biology screaming for help even through the smoke and chemical burn of the fire.
“Calder,” Rhodes called when she spotted me. “Second floor rescue. Mrs. Jenkins’s bedroom is the northeast corner. She’s mobility-limited, uses a walker. You’re primary rescue.”
“Copy that.” I was already pulling on my SCBA, my brain cataloging the approach, the variables, the risks.
Through the bond, I felt Sable’s spike of concern. Felt her omega instincts screaming to keep her alphas safe. Felt her professional coordinator mind overriding biology to do what needed to be done.
“Fire One, this is Coordinator Wynn,” her voice came through the radio, steady and professional. “Confirming primary rescue assignment to Calder. Medical staging for immediate transport, security establishing perimeter for incoming family. All units maintain safe distance from structure.”
She was sending me in. Knew it was dangerous. Knew I could get hurt or worse. And she made the call anyway because I was the right person for the job.
“Backup team?” Rhodes asked.
“Caldwell and McKenzie,” I said, naming two of our most experienced firefighters. “We go in as a three-person unit, maintain constant communication, extract and evacuate within six minutes.”
“Go.”
I moved toward the structure with Caldwell and McKenzie flanking me, the weight of gear familiar and grounding. This was what I trained for. What I was good at. The guilt from three years ago tried to surface, tried to tell me I’d fail again, tried to paralyze me with the memory of being too slow.
Through the bond, I felt Sable. Felt her absolute certainty that I would succeed. Felt her trust in my competence, her refusal to let me fail myself.
The stairs were clear but already starting to weaken from the heat. We moved fast, staying low, maintaining contact. The northeast bedroom door was closed, which had probably saved Mrs. Jenkins from smoke inhalation but also meant she was trapped.
“Mrs. Jenkins!” I called through the door. “Fire department! We’re coming in!”
I breached the door and found her huddled in the corner, her walker beside her, clearly terrified but conscious and alert. Her scent spiked with relief when she saw us.
“I couldn’t get to the stairs,” she gasped. “I tried, but the smoke, and my legs don’t work like they used to.”
“We’ve got you.” I moved to her quickly, assessing. Conscious, breathing okay despite the smoke, mobile with assistance. “I’m going to carry you down. Caldwell will bring your walker. Just hold onto me and trust me.”
“I trust you,” she said, and through the bond I felt Sable’s echo of those words.
Getting her down the stairs was careful work. The structure was compromised, smoke reducing visibility, heat making everything harder. But we moved as a unit, Caldwell and McKenzie clearing the path while I carried Mrs. Jenkins, protecting her from falling debris with my own body.
We made it outside in five minutes, well within the safety window. Silas was waiting at the perimeter with his medical bag, immediately starting his assessment while I helped ease Mrs. Jenkins onto the gurney.
“You’re safe,” I told her. “You’re okay. Silas is going to check you over, make sure there’s no smoke inhalation or injuries.”
“Thank you,” she said, tears forming. “Thank you for coming. For not giving up on an old woman.”
“We never give up,” I said. “That’s what we do.”
Through the bond, I felt Sable. Felt her overwhelming relief. Felt how hard it had been to send me into danger, how much it had cost her to make the professional choice over the personal one.
The fire was controlled within twenty minutes, the structure saved though significantly damaged. Mrs. Jenkins was transported to the hospital for observation but was stable andexpected to make a full recovery. By any measure, it was a successful response.
When I finally made it back to the command post where Sable was coordinating mop-up operations, she looked at me with eyes that were bright with unshed tears.
“You did good,” she said, her voice steady despite what I felt through the bond.
“So did you. Sending me in despite knowing the risks, that took courage.”
