Chapter Six #3
Burke’s reaction was instant. He let go of my hand only to whip out his phone, thumb flying over the screen.
“I know a guy. Well, I know an omega who’s better at fixing things than God.
Carter owes me a favor. I’ll have him bring something over this afternoon.
And don’t even think about arguing—I’m not letting you lose your future because of that piece of shit. ”
He said it with such certainty that for a second, I believed him.
The phone buzzed. Burke’s eyes scanned the screen, then he grinned. “Done. He’s driving over right now. With a machine that’s probably worth more than your brother’s truck.” He glanced up, green eyes warm and alive. “You’re going to get out, Danny. I swear on my life.”
A warmth spread through my chest, heady and bright. For the first time in a decade, I didn’t feel like a ghost haunting my own life.
Burke’s hand came to rest on my knee, casual and steady. There was no heat to it, no demand—just the solid fact of another person, present and unafraid.
I swallowed, hard. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He looked at me, all humor gone. “Because you deserve it. Because you shouldn’t have to claw your way through hell just to feel safe. And because I like you.”
He said it so simply that it almost didn’t register.
I squeezed his hand back, shy and shaky. “I like you, too.”
He smiled, slow and soft. “Good.”
We sat like that for a long time, the pain in my ribs faded to a background hum. I let the comfort settle in, warm and dangerous and new.
I thought about Dennis, about every time he’d tried to rip the hope out of me, and realized he’d failed. I was still here. Still breathing.
And for the first time, that felt like winning.
Burke’s thumb traced over my knee, patient and calm. “You know, you don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” I said. “I want you to know who you’re dealing with.”
He laughed, loud and happy. “I’m more scared of you than any SEAL I’ve ever worked with.”
I grinned, the split in my lip aching but worth it.
The tray sat forgotten on my lap. Outside the window, the sky was bright, the world wide open.
Maybe this time, it would stay that way.
The knock on the guest room door was so polite I almost didn’t recognize it as a summons. Burke looked up from his phone—he’d been reading something about hydroponic lettuce, because of course he had—and called, “Come in,” like we were expecting pizza, not the arrival of Montana’s own Avengers.
Rawley Steele entered first, six-three and built like a cattle guard. He wore an actual button-down, which made me wonder if this was his “company manners” shirt. He gave me a nod, then immediately scanned the room like he was mentally marking exits and choke points.
Macon O’Reilly followed, quieter, but twice as intimidating if you actually paid attention. The man didn’t so much walk as settle into a place, like tectonic plates deciding where to rest for the next century.
For a moment, I braced myself for the usual alpha posturing—staring, sniffing, finding a way to assert dominance.
But it never came. Rawley just offered me a gentle, “You look better than I expected, kid,” and Macon raised a thermos in silent salute before finding a spot against the wall, arms folded.
Burke flashed me a look, a quick spark of “You okay?” and I nodded. The three of them started talking—first in code, then in plain English. I tried to follow, but the pain meds and my own disbelief made the details slippery.
Rawley: “First thing’s a restraining order. I already talked to Dorsey. He’s prepping paperwork. Dennis gets within a hundred yards, it’ll be a felony.”
Burke: “He’ll test it. He’s a dumbass, but a persistent one.”
Macon: “Then we make it unappealing to try. I’ll set up the game cams. If he gets close, we’ll have time-stamped footage and a patrol car here in ten.”
Rawley nodded at me. “You want a lawyer? I know a guy in Missoula. Ex-judge, knows how to play rough.”
I shook my head. “I just want him to leave me alone. And maybe… I don’t know. Pay for what he did to my stuff.”
Burke’s hand landed on my shoulder, not heavy, just enough pressure to let me know he heard. “We’ll make it happen.”
The meeting shifted to logistics—what windows were most vulnerable, whether the dogs could sleep indoors for a while, which neighbors could be trusted to keep their mouths shut.
It was all so… practical. No grandstanding, no threats of what they’d do to Dennis if he showed up. Just a clear, collaborative plan.
I’d never seen three alphas share a room without anyone trying to be king of the hill. It was weirdly moving. I kept waiting for the tension to snap, for someone to sneer or flex, but it never happened.
Eventually, Rawley pushed off the dresser. “We’ll let you rest,” he said. “Text if you need anything.”
Macon offered a quiet, “Heal up, Danny,” and left with barely a sound.
When the door clicked shut, the room felt twice as big.
Burke exhaled, flopping onto the edge of the bed. “I swear to God, those two could organize a moon landing with a week’s notice.”
I almost smiled, then remembered my lip. “Are all your friends like that? Or just the ones with necks thicker than my thigh?”
He grinned, showing all his teeth. “You haven’t even met the weird ones yet.”
He was so close. I could feel the heat of him, could smell the wild green of his skin, the sharp metallic undertone that meant alive and awake. I realized I was staring, and looked away.
A minute passed. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. The quiet was heavy and safe.
I didn’t know why I said it, but it came out anyway: “Why are you doing all this for me?”
I thought he’d laugh it off, maybe make a joke about my tragic lack of self-esteem. Instead, he went very still, like he’d been waiting for the question his whole life.
His mouth opened, closed. I could see the smartass reply gearing up, but then he shook his head and let the truth out raw. “Because you deserve better,” he said, and it was the closest I’d ever heard him get to vulnerable. “And because I can’t seem to stay away from you.”
He looked embarrassed for a second, which made something in my chest unclench.
“Even now?” I asked, holding up my battered hands for effect.
He caught one, laced his fingers through mine. “Especially now,” he said.
The touch was grounding, like standing barefoot in damp grass after a lightning storm.
We sat like that for a long time, just breathing.
I thought about every time Dennis had called me worthless, every year I’d spent believing I was too broken for anyone to want. It all seemed so distant, like something that happened to someone else.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
Burke shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to. I want to be here, with you.”
He squeezed my hand, thumb brushing over my palm like he was reading my future in the lines there. “You wanna know what I see?” he said, voice low.
“What?”
He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath against my skin. “I see a kid who survived hell, and came out smarter, and braver, and—” He stopped, laughed, ducked his head. “Fuck. I’m really bad at this.”
I smiled, for real this time. It felt strange and beautiful, like finding a wildflower growing out of concrete.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m bad at it, too.”
He reached up, brushed a piece of hair from my forehead, then let his palm rest on my cheek, careful not to touch the bruises.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and it was the first time anyone had ever bothered to ask.
I nodded. He leaned in, slow, tentative, like a man sneaking up on a miracle. His lips were soft, and the kiss was so gentle it almost didn’t register as real.
But it was. It was real, and it was everything.
When he pulled back, he kept our foreheads together, his hand never leaving mine. “You’re not alone anymore,” he said, and this time I believed it.
I let myself fall into him, let the warmth and the safety and the impossible hope fill me up.
If Dennis ever came back, I’d be ready.
But for now, I just held on.
And for the first time, that was more than enough.