Chapter 3
3
ATLAS
T hunder rumbles in the distance as I drive my truck through the winding roads of Whispering Grove.
The massive pines lining the route to the station sway in the growing wind, their needles hissing warnings of the coming storm.
At least the rain will help with the dry conditions we’ve been facing all month.
In the distance, a spark of lightning flashes over the mountains.
It reminds me of the turbulence during the flight home, the same turbulence that sent that gorgeous Omega, Emma, practically into my lap when the plane dropped a hundred feet without warning.
Fuck.
My chest tightens at the memory of her scent, old books, honey, and vanilla, wrapping around me like a drug made specifically for an Alpha.
Even now, hours later, I swear I can still catch traces of it on my jacket.
I inhale deeply, chasing the ghost of that perfect Omega sweetness.
She’d been beautiful in a way that snuck up on you, honey-blond hair escaping from a messy bun, large hazel eyes that widened when she realized I’d caught her writing about me.
The blush that had crept up her neck and stained her cheeks when I leaned over to read what was unmistakably a romance scene.
The way she’d clutched her notebook to her chest as if I might steal it, chin raised defiantly even as her scent betrayed her attraction.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slamming my palm against the steering wheel.
I should have gotten her number.
Should have pushed just a little harder to see her again.
But the moment she’d thrown up those walls, all cool politeness and firm boundaries, I’d backed off.
The last thing I needed was to come across like another Alpha asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve missed something important.
My knee bounces with restless energy as I take the turn onto Station Road.
I pull into the parking lot of Whispering Grove Fire Department.
The station sits on the edge of town, a sprawling single-story building of red brick and reinforced concrete that we’ve expanded twice in the years since I took over as chief.
Usually, the sight of it settles something in my chest, the closest thing to home I’ve known since I was twelve, but today, my skin feels too tight, like I’m buzzing with an electric current I can’t ground .
The garage doors stand open, revealing our main engine, the brush truck, and our newest acquisition, a specialty rescue vehicle we’d fought the town council for three years to get approved.
Beyond them, I spot the training yard where several volunteers are hastily packing up equipment after training.
I grab my backpack from the passenger seat and march indoors.
The main bay smells of diesel, metal polish, and the sweat of honest work.
Three volunteers, Kai, Dana, and Miguel, are meticulously checking the breathing apparatus.
They glance up as I enter, and the familiar routine of the station begins to work its steady magic on my agitated nerves.
“Chief’s back,” Miguel calls out, his stocky frame straightening as his face breaks into a grin.
He’s one of our best, a former military medic who moved to Whispering Grove five years ago and has been an essential part of our team ever since.
“Station’s still standing, sir.”
“Apparently,” I nod, a ghost of a smile touching my lips.
“Training going well?”
“Station record on the hose deployment,” Dana says proudly, pushing her braids back from her face.
At twenty-two, she’s our youngest volunteer, but what she lacks in experience she makes up for in sheer determination.
“River’s been drilling us like we’re heading to the Olympics.”
I glance at the polished equipment and immaculate bay.
“Good. Summer tourist season’s about to hit hard, and we’re already getting dry conditions up in the north valley.” A flash of lightning illuminates in the distance through the window.
“Though that might help for a day or two.”
“Storm’s rolling,” Kai confirms, his calm voice carrying the slight accent of his Japanese heritage.
“River and Levi are in the office.”
I nod my thanks and head down the hallway, my boots echoing on the polished concrete.
Our department is small but efficient, twenty-three volunteers total, with just the three of us as full-time staff.
We rotate shifts, so there’s always one of us on duty, with at least three or four volunteers per shift.
It works because we’ve built something special here, not just colleagues, but pack.
River, Levi, and I.
The office door is open, and I pause for a moment to watch them before they notice me.
River is stretched out in my chair, my fucking chair, boots propped up on my desk, animatedly gesturing while recounting some story that has Levi shaking his head in disbelief.
River looks like he belongs on the cover of one of those firefighter calendars that suburban moms secretly collect.
Tall and lean-muscled with golden-blond hair that falls to just below his ears, usually pushed back.
Today he’s wearing a faded WGFD t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and worn jeans with a hole in one knee.
The braided leather bracelet he never takes off encircles his right wrist.
Levi stands by the window, arms crossed over his chest, watching River with that silent, assessing gaze that misses nothing.
He’s taller than River by an inch, with a leaner build that disguises surprising strength.
His straight black hair is longer on top, where it often falls across his forehead in a way that softens his sharp, angular features.
Today, he’s dressed all in black, jeans and a button-up with the sleeves rolled precisely to mid-forearm.
The silver watch that belonged to his father gleams on his wrist as he gestures to whatever point River is making.
“…then she says, ‘I thought firefighters were supposed to be good with their hands’, and I tell her—” River catches sight of me, and his face lights up, teal-blue eyes smiling.
“Well, fuck me sideways! Look what the cat dragged in!”
“Get your ass out of my chair,” I growl with a smirk.
River’s the only person I know who can lift my mood no matter how dark it gets.
He’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in three long strides to pull me into a rough embrace, slapping my back hard enough to make me grunt.
His cinnamon scent wraps around me, brightening with genuine happiness at my return.
Levi pushes away from the window, a rare smile transforming his serious face.
“Welcome back.” He clasps my shoulder, his amber-gold eyes searching my face.
“You look like shit. How’d it go?”
“It’s done,” I say, dropping my bag by the door and rolling my shoulders to release the tension that’s been building since I left three days ago.
“Easier than I thought it would be.” That’s not entirely true, but they don’t need to know how I’d stood frozen on the porch for twenty minutes before I could make myself turn the key to my parents’ home or how the emptiness of the rooms had echoed with memories I’d spent years trying to bury.
“Told you it’d be easy,” Levi states.
“And the plane didn’t crash like you were convinced it would,” River adds, throwing himself into the chair opposite mine, one leg slung over the armrest. “Atlas Wood, fearless fire chief, afraid of a little turbulence.”
I snort, reclaiming my rightful place behind the desk.
The chair’s still warm from River.
“I made one comment. Once.”
“One comment, six times,” River corrects, dimples appearing as he grins.
“I counted. You texted me before takeoff, during the flight, and after landing. Both ways.”
“Fuck off.” I can’t help the small smile that breaks through.
“Some of us have seen what happens when machines fall from thirty thousand feet.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all watched Air Crash Investigation.” River waves a dismissive hand, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armrest. “More importantly, did you bring us anything? Tell me you at least got those maple cookies from that bakery near the airport.”
“In the truck,” I admit, and River pumps his fist triumphantly, making Levi roll his eyes.
“By the way,” I add, running a hand through my hair.
“I bumped into Caroline and Mark at the airport. They were heading back from Hawaii. Lucky bastards looked like they’d spent the entire week on the beach.”
“So, it’s really done, then? The house, the estate, all of it?” Levi asks, perching on the edge of the desk.
As the pack’s most analytical mind, he’s always focused on closure, on tying up loose ends.
“All of it. Sold the house to a pediatrician and her wife.” Something eases in my chest slightly as I say it out loud, making it real.
“They’ve got twins on the way. Place will be filled with kids’ crap instead of dust and ghosts.”
“Good.” Levi nods decisively, amber eyes warm with approval.
“It was time.”
“Speaking of time,” River interjects, leaning forward with a predatory gleam in his eye that immediately puts me on guard.
“You seem different. Distracted.” He taps his nose significantly.
“And you smell... interesting.”
I shift in my chair.
As pack leader, I’m not used to being the one under scrutiny.
“Had a long flight. Probably just tired.”
“Bullshit,” River says cheerfully.
“You’ve got that look. The one where you’re trying not to think about something, which means you’re thinking about nothing else.” His eyes widen suddenly.
“Did you meet someone?”
Damn him.
“It was nothing,” I say, but even I can smell the lie in my scent.
Despite my best efforts, my mind drifts back to the plane, to Emma’s startled gasp when the turbulence threw her against me, to the way her eyes had darkened when our gazes locked.
“Holy shit, you did!” River crows, sitting up straight.
“Who is she? Details, Chief!”
I sigh, knowing I won’t get any peace until I give them something.
“Just sat next to an Omega, who’s a writer, on the flight back. We talked a bit.”
“An Omega writer?” River’s interest visibly sharpens, and even Levi leans forward slightly.
They know I’ve avoided Omegas since Caitlin cleaned out my bank account and disappeared a year ago.
“It was nothing,” I repeat more firmly.
“Just a conversation.”
“Yeah? Then why does your scent spike every time you mention her?” River challenges, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Because...” I run a hand through my hair again, frustration bubbling up.
“Fuck. She smelled incredible, all right? Like old books and honey and vanilla. And she was writing what looked like a romance novel about an Alpha who sounded suspiciously like me.”
“She was writing about you?” River’s eyes go wide with delight.
“On the plane? While sitting next to you?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I mutter.
“She’s in Whispering Grove, but she made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me.”
“Wait, she’s in town?” Levi straightens, suddenly more interested.
“For how long? ”
“I don’t know. She mentioned renting a cabin for the summer to finish her book.” The thought that Emma might be somewhere in Whispering Grove right now makes my skin prickle with awareness.
“But like I said, she wasn’t interested.”
“Bullshit again,” River scoffs.
“If she was writing sexy Alpha fiction inspired by you, she was definitely interested. What did you do to scare her off?”
“Nothing!” I protest, then sigh.
“I might have been reading over her shoulder. She didn’t appreciate that.”
River throws his head back and laughs, the sound filling the office.
“You nosy bastard! No wonder she shut down.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I insist, though the words taste like a lie.
“I’m going to respect her boundaries. We’ve got a station to run and a town to protect.”
But hell, it’s going to be damn hard not to check in on her.
She’s in my head constantly, like a song I can’t turn off, a scent I keep chasing even when I know I shouldn’t.
Every hour I’m not seeing her, I’m thinking about where she is.
“Atlas,” River blurts, suddenly serious, his teasing tone gone.
“You’ve been saying for months that the pack feels unbalanced. That we need an Omega to complete us. And now you happen to sit next to one who smells right and is already writing fictional versions of you? That’s not nothing.”
I stare at him, momentarily caught off guard by his insight.
It’s easy to forget sometimes, with all his joking and flirting, that River has depths that rival the mountain lakes surrounding our town.
“I never said she was the one,” I argue, but it sounds weak even to my ears.
Levi pushes off the desk, shaking his head at both of us.
“Well, better get changed and settled in. We’re on high alert with potential fires and the town full of tourists.” His lips quirk in a smirk.
“You can moon over your plane Omega later.”
“I’m not mooning—” I start, but I’m cut off by an especially loud crack of thunder.
I glance out the window at the darkening sky, the first sprinkles of rain on the glass.
The phone on my desk rings, its shrill tone cutting through our conversation.
I reach for it automatically, but River beats me to it, snatching up the receiver with a wink.
“Whispering Grove Fire Department,” he answers, instantly professional despite the teasing glint still in his eyes.
His expression sobers as he listens, reaching for the notepad.
“Location? Uh-huh. How many? Right. We’re on it.”
He hangs up, and we’re already moving before he speaks, reading his body language.
“Climbing accident at Thunder Rock. Two hikers stranded on the north face. Storm’s coming in.”
“Rock rescue in a thunderstorm. Fucking perfect,” I mutter, but we’re all grabbing gear.
“Welcome home, Chief,” River says, slapping my shoulder as we head for the rescue truck .
Lightning illuminates the bay as we load the last of the equipment, and for a moment, I catch Levi watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says mildly.
“Just thinking this Omega must have made quite an impression.” He adds, “You know, the universe doesn’t often give second chances. If you meet her again, maybe don’t fuck it up this time.”
“ E ight calls,” River announces, dropping into a chair in the station’s common room with exaggerated exhaustion.
“Eight fucking calls in seven hours. I’m telling you, Chief, you’re bad luck. We had zero emergencies while you were gone, and now we’re running ourselves ragged.”
It’s well past dark now, nearly eleven, and the storm has intensified to a full-blown deluge.
Rain pounds against the windows in waves driven by howling wind, and lightning flashes nearly continuously, turning night to strobing day.
After the rock rescue, which had been harrowing enough with the rain making the cliff face slick as glass, we’d barely caught our breath before the calls started rolling in.
A downed power line that had us coordinating with the electric company while keeping sightseers at bay.
A tree that fell and crushed someone’ s shed.
More minor accidents caused by the increasingly hazardous road conditions.
“Might be a record for a rainy evening,” Levi agrees, running a towel over his hair.
He’d been the one to climb the tree in the Hendersons’ yard to rescue their cat, which had rewarded him with three deep scratches across his forearm.
I lean against the doorframe, nursing a cup of coffee that’s strong enough to strip paint.
The station is quiet now except for the skeleton crew, just the three of us and Kai, who’s monitoring the radios while doing inventory in the supply room.
“Could be worse,” I point out.
“At least we’re not dealing with a structure fire in this mess.”
River groans, throwing an empty protein bar wrapper at me.
“Don’t jinx it, for fuck’s sake. I want to actually sleep tonight.”
“You’re getting soft in your old age,” I taunt.
We’re all exhausted, and I’m still not fully recovered from three days of dealing with my parents’ estate.
“I’m younger than you,” River shoots back.
“And prettier.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter, but I’m fighting a smile.
Levi ignores our bickering, focused on bandaging his scratched arm.
“Weather report says the storm should pass in a few hours. Flash flood warnings are in effect for the lower valley. We might need to assist with evacuations if the river overflows.”
I nod, making a mental note to check the emergency protocols.
The Whispering River can rise dangerously fast during heavy rains, threatening the older cabins built too close to its banks.
“We’ll set up cots in the community center if needed.”
River yawns widely, not bothering to cover his mouth.
“Well, I’m hitting the shower, then crashing for as long as the universe allows.” He stretches, joints popping audibly, before fixing me with a suddenly serious look.
“And tomorrow, we’re revisiting this Omega writer situation. Because if she really is in town for the summer, you need to at least try to apologize for being a creep.”
“I wasn’t—” I start to protest, but he’s already sauntering out of the room, whistling some pop song I don’t recognize.
Levi finishes with his bandage and levels me with one of his assessing gazes.
“He’s not wrong, you know.”
“About me being a creep?” I scowl.
“About you needing to try again.” He stands, methodically packing away the first aid kit.
“You’ve been off-balance since your ex, Caitlin left you. We all have. The pack needs... something.” He chooses his words carefully, never one to speak without consideration.
“Or someone.”
I don’t answer immediately, staring into my coffee as if it might contain solutions to problems I’m not even sure how to articulate.
The truth is, our pack does feel incomplete.
Has for a long time.
Three Alphas makes for a strange dynamic, too much dominance, not enough softness.
We make it work because we each fill different roles, but there’s always been a sense that something—or someone—is missing.
“I don’t even know where she’s staying,” I finally say, which isn’t a denial.
“We know all the hotels, motels, cabins, and even the Air BnBs in Whispering Grove,” Levi points out with his usual practicality.
“How hard could it be to find her?”
“Stalking. That’s your suggestion?” I raise an eyebrow.
A ghost of a smile passes over his face.
“Information gathering. There’s a difference.”
Before I can respond, the radio on my belt crackles to life, and Kai’s voice comes through, tense and urgent.
“Chief? We’ve got a call. Residential structure fire at 1247 Pinecrest Lane. Multiple reports coming in. It’s bad.”
Time seems to slow down for a heartbeat, then speeds up double.
I’m already moving, Levi right behind me, as I respond.
“Copy that. Full response. Wake the volunteers on the roster and get dispatch to send out the alert.”
The alarm blares through the station a moment later, the automated system activating as we hit the bay floor at a run.
River emerges from the locker room, hair still wet, but all signs of exhaustion gone from his face.
“Structure fire,” I call out as he jogs over, already reaching for his turnout gear.
“Pinecrest Lane. ”
“Fuck,” he mutters.
We all know what that means.
Pinecrest is a winding road that leads up the eastern slope, lined with expensive vacation homes built primarily of wood.
But in this storm, the situation might be in our favor, with the rain battling the fire alongside us.
Kai bursts into the bay, followed by the two volunteers who were sleeping in the bunkroom.
“Police are en route, but they’re coming from the south side. Roads are starting to flood in places.”
I nod sharply.
“Engine one, Rescue one,” I bark.
“Kai, Dana, Miguel, you’re with me on engine. River, take Rescue with Levi and Terry. We roll in sixty seconds.”
The rain is coming down in sheets as we tear out of the station, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
“Dispatch, this is Chief Wood,” I radio in as we speed through the deserted streets.
“En route to Pinecrest Lane. What’s the situation?”
“Chief, we have multiple 911 calls reporting a house fire,” the dispatcher responds, her voice steady despite the urgency.
“Callers indicate the vacation rental is occupied. Unknown number inside. Police are ten minutes out.”
“Copy that.” I glance in the rearview at my team, all grim determination now.
“Engine one ETA four minutes. Rescue right behind us.”
The wipers struggle against the torrent, and I grip the wheel tighter as we navigate the winding road leading up to the eastern slope.
The higher we climb, the stronger the glow becomes, a malevolent orange beacon cutting through the night.
Beside me, Kai checks his breathing apparatus one last time, his usually jovial face set in hard lines.
As we round the final bend onto Pinecrest, the full scene comes into view, and my breath catches in my throat.
A large A-frame cabin is half engulfed in flames that the downpour is doing little to douse, fire licking up the wooden siding and punching through the roof in multiple places.
“Jesus Christ,” Miguel breathes from behind me.
The radio crackles with River’s voice from the rescue truck behind us.
I pull to a stop at a safe distance and throw the engine into park.
“Establish water supply. Primary search is priority one. River, circle around back when you arrive. Levi, I want a structural assessment before we commit to an interior attack.”
We hit the ground running, rain pelting us as we don our masks and gear up.
The storm has turned the ground to mud, making every movement more difficult, but we move with the efficiency of a team that’s faced hell together before.
“Ready?” I ask, adjusting my mask as the rest of the team forms up.
Curt nods, and I feel the weight of leadership settle onto my shoulders.
This is what I was made for, this moment, this purpose.
Everything else, houses full of ghosts, plane rides with intoxicating Omegas, the weight of the past, it all burns away in the face of the flames.
“Let’s move,” I order.
With Kai and Miguel flanking me, we charge toward the inferno, ready to tear through fire and wood and whatever else stands between us and anyone trapped inside.
Then I hear it, a scream piercing through the roar of flames and pounding rain.
Desperate. Terrified.
Coming from somewhere inside the burning house.
“Someone’s in there,” Miguel shouts.
The wind shifts, and for just a moment, the flames part enough to see a figure in an upstairs window. A woman. Trapped.