“Probably,” Dane said. “Alphas like him don’t give up easily. They think persistence is romantic instead of recognizing it’s harassment.”
“If he comes back, I’ll call the sheriff,” Sable said, then caught herself. “Wait. You’re the sheriff. I’ll call you.”
“You’ll call the department,” Dane corrected. “I can’t be objective about threats to my omega. Someone else needs to handle it officially if it escalates.”
“Will it escalate?” Beau asked.
Through my sensitivity, I was already picking up on Dane’s concern. He was running tactical scenarios in his head, calculating probability of escalation, determining what resources we’d need if Nathan became a real threat instead of just an annoyance.
“I don’t know,” Dane admitted. “But we should be prepared. Document any contact. Keep records of his presence in Hollow Haven. Make sure people know he’s not welcome around Sable.”
“That sounds like you’re planning for a worst-case scenario,” Sable observed.
“I always plan for worst-case scenarios. That’s how we survive them if they happen.”
“And that’s why we love you,” I said cheerfully. “You’re our tactical pessimist who makes sure we don’t die of our own optimism.”
“I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist.”
“You absolutely are a pessimist,” Beau said. “But you’re right that we should be prepared. So we document, we stay aware, and we handle it if it becomes a real problem.”
“Together,” Sable added firmly. “We handle it together. Not you three handling it for me.”
“Together,” we all agreed.
Dinner was comfortable. Easy. The kind of pack meal that felt less like an event and more like routine. We talked about work,about the upcoming emergency response drill, about whether we needed to buy more coffee because someone (me) kept drinking it directly from the pot instead of using actual cups.
“We need to talk about the nest room,” Dane said as we cleaned up dishes. “You’ve been using the master bedroom, but long-term you need a dedicated space. Something permanent.”
“A real nest room?” Sable asked, and through the bond I felt her surprise mixed with longing. “I’ve never had one before. Nathan said it was excessive.”
“Nathan was wrong about everything,” Beau said firmly. “If you want a nest room, we build you a nest room.”
“The bonus room off the master,” Dane said, already in planning mode. “We could convert it. Right size, right location, already has windows for natural light and ventilation.”
“That’s your office,” Sable protested.
“I don’t need an office. I need my omega to have a proper nest.” Dane pulled out his phone, already making notes. “We’d need to renovate. Carpet, better insulation for temperature control, reinforced windows for security.”
“Paint,” Beau added. “Whatever color makes you feel safe. And we’ll need to plan the layout so everything feels right.”
“This is really happening?” Sable asked, her voice small. “You’re really going to build me a nest room?”
“Of course we are,” I said, pulling her into a side hug. “You deserve a space that’s completely yours. Where you can retreat during heats or when the world is too much. Where you feel safe and surrounded by pack.”
Through my sensitivity, I felt her emotions overwhelm her. Disbelief that we’d do this for her. Hope that maybe she really could have what she’d always needed. Love that we understood without her having to explain.
“I want it to smell like all of us,” she whispered. “I want pack scent saturated into every surface so that even when I’m alone, I’m surrounded by you.”
“Then we’ll each contribute scent items,” Dane said. “Clothing, blankets, whatever you need. You arrange them however feels right.”
“When do we start?” she asked.
“This weekend,” Beau said. “We’ll paint, install what needs installing, make sure it’s structurally sound. Then you can nest it however you want.”
“Our first project as a pack,” Sable said, wonder in her voice. “Building me a nest room.”
“Building us a nest room,” I corrected. “Because it’s for all of us. Your space, but our pack. Somewhere we can all retreat when the world is too much.”
