He was wrong on both counts.
“This is a private conversation,” Nathan said, turning back to Sable. “Between me and my omega.”
“She’s claimed.” I moved closer, letting him see the claiming bite on my neck. Sable’s bite. The mark that said I belonged to her as much as she belonged to me. “You can see the bites. All three of them, actually, since you’re looking. Walk away while you still can.”
His scent spiked with anger and something else. Disbelief, maybe. Like he couldn’t comprehend that Sable had found not one but three alphas who wanted exactly what he’d rejected.
“Three?” He looked at Sable with something between shock and disgust. “You bonded three alphas? That’s excessive even for you. Always did need more attention than one alpha could provide.”
Through my sensitivity, I felt Sable’s hurt spike before she could hide it. Felt her fighting against the shame he was trying to make her feel. Felt her preparing to defend herself against accusations she’d spent five years trying to escape.
I was about to respond when Dane appeared at the other end of the hallway.
The sheriff moved with that particular controlled intensity he brought to dangerous situations. Not hurrying, not aggressive, just absolutely certain of his purpose. His tactical mind was already assessing the scenario, categorizing Nathan as a threat, determining the most efficient way to neutralize that threat.
“Problem?” Dane asked, his voice carrying that command authority that made people’s hindbrain recognize a predator.
“No problem,” I said, not taking my eyes off Nathan. “Just explaining to Mr. Reynolds here that Sable is claimed, bonded, and completely uninterested in whatever he thinks he’s here to accomplish.”
“Nathan Reynolds.” Dane’s voice went flat in a way that meant he was accessing everything he knew about this person. “The alpha who rejected Sable at their bonding ceremony five years ago. Public humiliation. Two hundred witnesses. Called her too difficult, too independent, not submissive enough.”
Through my sensitivity, I felt Nathan’s surprise that Dane knew the details. Felt his discomfort at having his actions stated so clinically.
“That was a mistake,” Nathan said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty. Two alphas were different from one. Two alphas who were clearly pack were something else entirely. “I was young. Stupid. I didn’t appreciate what I had.”
“No,” Dane agreed. “You didn’t. And you don’t get a second chance to appreciate it now.”
Beau appeared from the stairwell, still in his fire department uniform, looking like he’d run the entire way from the station. His usually gentle demeanor was completely absent, replaced by the focused intensity of someone who’d just identified a rescue scenario that didn’t need rescue, it needed removal of threat.
Three alphas. All of them protective. All of them positioned between Nathan and Sable.
Through the bond, I felt Sable’s complicated emotions. Relief that we were here. Frustration that we’d responded to a threat she could handle herself. Love that we cared enough to show up. Fear that we’d be too protective, that we’d prove Nathan right about her needing alphas to manage her life.
“She was mine first,” Nathan said, and I heard desperation creeping into his voice. “I could have had her. I could have claimed her. You three don’t understand what you’re dealing with. She’s difficult. Challenging. She’ll fight you on everything.”
“Good,” Beau said, his voice rough. “We don’t want easy. We wanther.”
“You called her too much,” I added, letting my scent-sensitivity read Nathan’s shock at having his exact words thrown back at him. “Too difficult. Not omega enough. Turns out she was just too much for you. We don’t have that problem.”
“She’ll break your pack apart,” Nathan said, and through my sensitivity I felt his genuine belief in what he was saying. “I tried for two years. She doesn’t know how to submit, how to defer, how to let an alpha lead. She’ll challenge every decision, question every choice, refuse to follow any kind of structure.”
“Then we’ll be challenged,” Dane said. “We’ll be questioned. We’ll build structure together instead of imposing it on her.”
“You three don’t know what you’re getting into,” Nathan insisted.
“We know exactly what we’re getting,” I corrected. “A competent, brilliant, strong omega who doesn’t need saving. Who coordinates emergency responses without flinching. Who makes hard decisions under pressure. Who stands up for herself and doesn’t back down just because someone thinks she should be softer.”
“That’s not how omega biology works,” Nathan argued, and I felt his frustration through my sensitivity. He genuinely believed what he was saying. Genuinely thought Sable was broken somehow, defective, wrong. “Omegas need structure. Need alphas to provide stability and leadership. She refuses both.”
“She refuses bad leadership,” Beau corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Through the bond, I felt Sable’s emotions building. Anger overtaking fear. Determination replacing uncertainty. She’d been silent through this entire exchange, letting us defend her, but her patience was running out.
I felt her move before I saw it. Felt her decision crystallize through the bond, felt her preparing to speak for herself instead of letting us speak for her.
“Move,” she said, her voice cutting through the testosterone-filled hallway with absolute authority.
We moved. All three of us, stepping aside immediately to let her face Nathan without our physical barrier.
