“Hooper,” he said. The name landed on the table like a file dropped on a desk. “You heard about the lawyers. You saw the post. You think she won’t escalate if this place makes her look like a fool?”
I leaned back, chair complaining against the old floor, and let my hands drift to my lap so he could see I wasn’t tensing up. I tried to keep my voice level. “I think she’s underestimated you before. I don’t think she knows what kind of ranch this is or what it means to the people who live here.”
He ran his hand through his hair, not nervous but trying to find a place for the leftover adrenaline. “It’s not a fight I want for Emilio. Or for you. I left because I didn’t want him growing up thinking he’s a tool for someone else’s ambitions. I left so he’d have a chance to be his own person.” His voice went flat again. “But if she gets him, he’s just leverage. A pawn. And I’d be the omega she can parade in front of the neighbors to show that she never lost her grip.”
I felt my back teeth click together. I hated the taste of that word: leverage. I hated the idea of Emilio in a house with cameras and rules and scheduled visits. I hated the idea that Liam would spend the rest of his life as a polite, smiling prop in the Petersons’ weird little museum of bloodlines and legacy.
I set the mug down and looked at him, really looked, and realized that for all the running he’d done, Liam had never stopped being hunted.
“So what do you want to do?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I want. She’s already made her move. She’ll be here in less than a day, probably with backup. If I run now, I just give her more evidence for her story—that I’m a risk, unstable, not fit to parent.”
There was a long moment where neither of us spoke. The only noise was the faint tick of the stove and the hush of Emilio’s breathing, perfectly even. Outside, the wind rattled a loose edge of the porch roof, then moved on.
I considered every story I’d ever heard about men like me, about omegas on the run, about the kids who got dragged back and the ones who disappeared and were never seen again.
I pictured the fight: the lawyers, the sheriff, maybe even the Feds if Peterson made the right calls. I wondered how many ways there were to lose before the house was nothing but smoke and memory.
I said, “She’s going to be disappointed.”
Liam gave a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. “That’s the only thing I have left to give her.” He looked at me, eyes hard now, and said, “Hooper, if it comes to it, don’t let them take the baby. Please.”
I nodded, and I meant it.
I stood, hands braced on the knees, and let my eyes fall to Emilio, still asleep in his cocoon of blankets and bouncy seat straps. Then I looked at Liam, who was so pale now he seemed to give off his own kind of cold light.
“Stay here,” I said. “I need to talk to Rawley.”
He nodded, just once, and went back to staring at the knot in the floor, like maybe the answer was down there if he looked hard enough.
I walked out before he could ask what I was going to do.
The cold was sharp enough to peel paint, but I didn’t feel it crossing the yard. The sky had gone from gunmetal to battleship in under an hour, the promise of new snow hanging over the valley like a loaded threat. Each boot step sounded like a punch, ice crystals shattering under the weight.
The barn’s warmth was more suggestion than reality, but it was still better than the yard. The air was heavy with hay andold diesel, the kind of air that lived at the back of your throat for hours after you left. Sawdust drifted in the sunbeams and caught in the cracks of my knuckles.
The barn was a tangle of repairs and half-finished projects, but Rawley was easy to spot. He stood at the workbench, smoothing his palm over a length of new post, testing the grain for splinters. I got the impression he’d been there longer than the post had.
He looked up, eyes narrowing with the kind of calculation you only saw in career military or men who’d survived a family like his. He didn’t say hello, didn’t ask what I needed. Just set the post down and waited.
“I need an escort into town,” I said. “And someone to watch the baby while we’re gone.”
He didn’t blink. “Who’s the escort?”
“Burke and Macon,” I said. “You’ll stay here and keep eyes on the house. Make sure nobody gets clever.”
He rolled a splinter between his thumb and forefinger. “You want soft hands or do you want muscle?”
“Both,” I said. “Burke can charm a snake and Macon doesn’t leave loose ends.”
He nodded, as if he’d come to the same answer himself. “You going armed?”
“Not unless you think we need it.”
He gave a short laugh. “If it comes to that, you’ll know before I do.”
The barn quieted for a second, just the soft whine of the wind working through a crack in the boards. He put the splinter in his pocket, a little detail I’d have missed if I wasn’t looking for it. I liked the way he did that—kept the evidence on himself, nothing left for anyone else to find.
