Chapter 8
8
EMMA
I sit on the edge of the bed in my temporary room, staring at the wall without really seeing it.
The nest of blankets behind me is still rumpled from where I’d created a makeshift cocoon after scrounging every spare blanket I could find in the room and cupboard.
It had taken that fortress of fabric wrapped around me before I’d felt secure enough to curl into it to stop the panic taking over.
The station is quieter, seeing that the guys left on their call, but my mind is anything but calm.
“Get it together, Emma,” I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples.
The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about them.
All three of them. It’s crazy.
I’ve known these men for less than twenty-four hours, yet I can’t get them out of my thoughts, especially after that moment with River in the laundry room.
I glance back at the rumpled blanket nest. I told myself it was just because the station was cold, the bed unfamiliar.
Just a comfort thing.
But here I am, twenty-four hours in this town, and suddenly, I’m exhibiting behaviors I’ve successfully suppressed for years.
It must be stress. The fire.
The displacement. It has nothing to do with three pairs of eyes that follow my movements, three distinct scents that somehow complement each other perfectly, and horrifyingly, seem to complement mine as well.
It hadn’t really worked, anyway.
Even in my mind, I can’t stop fantasizing made-up stories about them.
Atlas’s hands lock around my waist, unbreakable.
“Found you,” he growls, his breath hot against the curve of my shoulder.
His presence engulfs me completely as he pulls me hard against his chest, one hand splaying possessively across my stomach.
“No more running, Emma.” River appears before me, blue eyes darkened to midnight, that dangerous smile cutting across his face.
He traces the outline of my lips with his fingertip, a touch so light, yet commanding my full attention.
“We always claim what belongs to us.”
Levi materializes at my side, studying me as his fingers trail down my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.
“Your body betrays you,” he observes.
“Every reaction tells a story you’re trying to deny.”
Atlas’s lips brush the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“She’s afraid of how perfectly she fits with us.”
“How completely she’ll surrender to us,” River adds, leaning close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him.
His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently to tilt my face up to his.
“Tell us what you’ve never told anyone else,” he whispers.
“Tell us what you truly crave.”
Words fail me, but Levi leans in.
“She wants what her previous Alpha denied her,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my collarbone.
“The claiming. The bond. The mark that announces to the world she belongs to someone.”
“Not someone,” Atlas corrects, his hold tightening possessively.
“Us.”
They close in, their heat surrounding me, imprisoning me, and I’m breathless.
The pressure of their bodies, hard muscle against my softness, makes me feel small yet powerful in the way they respond to every tiny movement I make.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for.
River’s lips capture mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns demanding, consuming.
When he pulls back, his eyes are wild.
“Tell us you’re ours.”
Levi’s mouth finds the pulse point at my throat, his tongue tasting my skin with deliberate precision.
“Say the words, Emma.”
Atlas’s teeth graze my earlobe.
“Submit to us.”
“Yes,” I hear myself gasp as some final barrier crumbles inside me.
“I’m yours… please…”
As if orchestrated, they move as one.
Three sets of teeth find different points on my body—Atlas at the junction of my neck and shoulder, River at my wrist over my racing pulse, and Levi at the sensitive spot just below my ear.
The pressure builds, the promise of what I’ve secretly wanted for so long, what Chad always refused to give me—a true claiming.
A mark that would bond me forever.
Just as their teeth break skin ? —
I gasp for breath, my fingers flying to my neck, my wrist, behind my ear, searching for marks that aren’t there.
God, why do they smell so good?
It’s not fair. My stomach flips every time they get close.
“Please, no,” I groan, falling back against the mattress, flashing back on my fantasy, the nest behind me.
“Not a scent match. That can’t be.”
Except I know the signs.
My grandmother taught me all about them when I presented as an Omega.
The inexplicable pull, the way their scents seem designed specifically to appeal to my most primal urges, the heightened awareness whenever they’re nearby.
“A true scent match is rare, Emma,” she’d told me, running a brush through my hair as we sat on her porch swing, watching the lake.
“So rare that many Omegas never find it. And that’s okay. You can still have a good relationship with an Alpha without it. It’ll still work out.”
I never felt anything close to a scent match with Chad.
His smell was pleasant enough, sandalwood and citrus, but it never made my knees weak or my heart race.
I thought that was normal.
That my grandmother’s stories of overwhelming attraction were just romantic exaggerations from a different generation.
I didn’t realize how intense a fragrance match could actually be.
How different my body’s response would feel compared to Chad.
The way my skin tingles when Atlas is near, how my pulse jumps when River looks at me, the strange calm that settles over me when Levi speaks, it’s nothing like what I felt with Chad.
Nothing like any attraction I’ve experienced before.
Gah, fucking Chad. I wish I could stop thinking about him and the situation he’s put me in.
The betrayal, the mess, the fire, all because of him rejecting me.
If I ignore the attraction, then nothing will happen between me and firefighter Alphas.
I mean, I can try to suppress my Omega response, right?
I can handle this. I have to.
Getting tangled up with one Alpha nearly destroyed me.
Three would be suicide.
I push myself up, determined to distract myself with something productive.
I’ve got soggy, soapy clothes to deal with, and sitting here obsessing over three Alphas I have no intention of getting involved with isn’t going to solve that problem.
As I make my way back to the laundry room, I catch the faint trace of their combined scents lingering in the hallway.
My knees actually weaken for a second, and I have to steady myself against the wall.
“Pathetic,” I scold myself.
“Pull it together.”
The laundry room is still a disaster zone, with foam coating every surface.
I grab a mop from the supply closet and get to work, trying to focus on the task rather than the memory of River standing too close, his touch on my face, the heat of his body nearly pressed against mine.
“Need a hand with that?” a female voice asks.
I whirl around to find a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, a similar age to me, in a uniform standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised at the sudsy carnage.
“I’m Claire,” she says, already grabbing a bucket.
“Volunteer firefighter and, apparently, now a janitor.”
“Emma,” I reply, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
“This is... kind of my fault.”
“I heard,” she grins, filling the bucket with water.
“The soap monster strikes again. Happens at least once a month around here.”
“Really?” I ask, relieved I’m not uniquely disaster prone.
“Nope,” she laughs. “But it makes you feel better, right?”
Despite myself, I laugh too.
“Not particularly.”
“So, you’re the author they rescued last night?” Claire asks, efficiently mopping a section of the floor.
She’s petite with short-cropped dark hair and friendly brown eyes.
Her scent is mild, distinctly Beta.
“That’s me,” I confirm.
“Though I’m hoping that doesn’t become my permanent identity. ‘The author who needed rescuing’ doesn’t exactly scream competent adult.”
“Could be worse.” Claire shrugs.
“Could be ‘the volunteer who set the training dummy on fire trying to demonstrate proper extinguisher technique’ . ”
“Oh…”
“In my defense, it was my first day,” she says with a mock-serious expression.
“And in my further defense, Chief Wood looked really hot putting it out.”
I nearly drop my mop.
“You and the chief...”
“Gosh, no,” she laughs, waving dismissively.
“Not for lack of trying on my part, but those three are notoriously difficult to pin down.”
“Really?” I ask, trying to sound casual while my heart does a strange little skip.
“They seem so... I don’t know. Solid.”
“Oh, they’re solid with each other,” Claire says, wringing out her mop.
“That’s the problem. They’ve got their little pack, and nobody else seems to fit into it for long.”
I focus on scrubbing a particularly stubborn patch of foam, pointedly not looking at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that they don’t have the best track record with relationships,” she explains.
“River will flirt with anything that moves, and I do mean anything. I once caught him winking at a mannequin in a store window.”
That sounds like him, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
“Levi’s the ghost, here one minute, vanished the next. He once left mid-date because he had an epiphany about flame retardant chemical compositions,” Claire continues, making air quotes.
“And Atlas?” I ask, surprised by how much I want to know.
“Atlas is...” she pauses, considering.
“Complicated. Too responsible for his own good. He takes care of everyone except himself.”
“They all sound kind of... damaged,” I observe, wringing out my mop.
“Aren’t we all?” Claire points out.
“But yeah, they’ve got their issues. River had some family stuff, never talks about it, but apparently, it was bad. Levi lost his parents in a fire when he was a teenager. And Atlas was abandoned young, lived on the streets for a while before the old fire chief took him in.”
I remember what Atlas told me bits about his past. Despite my determination to keep my distance, my heart aches a little at the thought of them struggling.
“Anyway,” Claire continues.
“They’re good guys. Great firefighters. Just not exactly relationship material. They never can hold on to anyone for long.”
“Maybe they don’t want to,” I suggest, uncomfortably aware that I’m defending men I barely know.
“Could be.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me wonder if she’s speaking from personal experience.
Whether she tried to get close to one of them, or all of them, and was rebuffed.
“So, what about you?” she asks, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“Staying with us long?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Until they work out how the cabin I was in got torched and, hopefully, not implicate me, I guess. Or until I find somewhere else.”
“Well, the station’s not bad as temporary housing goes,” she says, sweeping the last of the suds into a drain.
“Just... be careful, okay? Alphas have this way of making you feel special, as if you’re the only one who understands them, but at the end of the day, they always choose each other.”
Her words settle uncomfortably in my stomach.
Of course it was too good to be true—the immediate connection I felt, the way they all seemed so attentive, so interested.
It wasn’t special. It was just what they did.
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, gathering up our cleaning supplies.
“And for helping with this mess.”
“Anytime,” she says easily.
“Us girls have to stick together in this testosterone-fueled environment.”
We finish the cleanup in silence, but my mind is racing.
I can’t deny the pull I feel toward all three of them, but Claire’s words have planted a seed of doubt.
Were they just being nice because they felt responsible for me?
Was River’s flirting just his default setting, not specific to me at all?
And more importantly, why do I care so much after less than a day?
B y the time the guys return from their call, I’ve managed to dry my clothes and am now back in my summer dress.
I’ve also decided to be polite but distant, to not give in to whatever this bizarre attraction is.
I have enough complications in my life without adding three Alphas to the mix.
Then they walk through the door, all broad shoulders and easy confidence.
I can’t stop staring at them.
“Dinner’s ready!” Hendricks calls.
The volunteer’s been cooking up a storm for the past hour.
The dining area is set up with a large round table, surprisingly cozy for a fire station.
The smell of chili con carne fills the air, along with rice and tortilla chips.
I take a seat, determined to keep my composure.
River immediately heads toward me, but Levi slides into the chair beside me first, his gaze meeting mine briefly before he focuses on serving food.
Another volunteer is on my other side.
“Hungry?” Levi asks, ladling a generous portion of chili into a bowl.
“Starving,” I admit.
Stress always increases my appetite, and between the house fire, the move to the station, and my confusing reactions to these men, I’ve been nothing but stressed.
He hands me the bowl along with a smaller plate of tortilla chips and nudges the rice toward me, too.
I help myself, then sprinkle it all with cheese.
“Hendricks makes the best chili in three counties. Not too spicy, but flavorful.”
“Thanks,” I say, surprised by his thoughtfulness.
Levi has been the quietest of the three, more reserved than the overtly protective Atlas or the flirtatious River, but there’s something about Levi’s calm presence that puts me at ease.
“How was the power outage situation?” I ask, taking a mouthful of the chili.
It’s delicious—rich, savory, and with just enough heat to warm without overwhelming.
“Resolved,” Levi replies.
“Though River nearly caused a second incident by antagonizing an irate driver.”
“I did not,” River protests from across the table.
“I simply suggested, very politely, that perhaps running over emergency personnel was not the best way to expedite her journey.”
“You told her if she was in such a hurry, you’d be happy to call her a medic vehicle pre-emptively,” Atlas corrects, shaking his head.
“Customer service,” River insists, loading his bread with butter.
“I was anticipating her needs.”
The chatter continues, and despite my intention to keep my distance, I find myself smiling, then laughing at their easy rapport.
There’s something comfortable about sitting here with them, as though I’ve found a place where I fit without even looking for it.
Dangerous thoughts, Emma.
I catch Claire watching us from another table, her expression unreadable.
Her warning echoes in my mind, tempering my enjoyment of the moment .
“So, Emma,” River says suddenly, fixing me with that bright, focused gaze that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.
“About your living situation.”
“River,” Atlas warns, his deep voice cutting through the chatter around the table.
“What?” River asks innocently.
“I’m just making conversation.”
“Subtle as a sledgehammer,” Levi mutters beside me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” River continues blithely.
“I was simply going to mention that staying in a fire station long term might not be ideal. The sirens alone would drive anyone crazy.”
“My living situation is temporary,” I say carefully.
“Until I figure out my next steps.”
“Exactly,” River nods enthusiastically.
“And in the meantime, you need somewhere comfortable. Somewhere safe.”
Atlas pinches the bridge of his nose while Levi smothers what might be a laugh behind his hand.
“The station is safe,” I counter.
“But is it comfortable?” River challenges.
“Do you really want to live in a place where the alarm could go off at three a.m.? Where there are constantly people coming and going? Where privacy is, at best, a theoretical concept?”
“River,” Atlas says, his tone making it clear this is the final warning.
“Fine, fine,” River relents, raising his hands in surrender.
“I’ll stop. But the offer stands.”
“What offer?” I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I already know.
“Our cabin at the edge of town,” River says simply.
“It’s private, secure, and much more comfortable than the station. Plus, no sirens.”
“You want me to move into your cabin,” I say flatly, glancing at Claire, who raises her eyebrows in an ‘I told you so’ expression.
“Temporarily,” Atlas interjects, shooting River a look that would make most people wither.
River just grins back, unrepentant.
“Until we can find a more permanent solution for you.”
“That’s... very generous,” I say carefully.
“But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” River challenges.
“Because I barely know you?” I reply, my voice rising slightly.
“Because three Alphas and one Omega living together is a recipe for disaster? Because I’m not looking for complications right now?”
The table falls silent, and I realize I’d been louder than I intended.
A flush creeps up my neck as several heads turn our way.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pushing my chair back.
“I need some air.”
Before anyone can respond, I’m up and moving toward the door that leads to the small patio area outside.
The cool evening air hits my heated skin, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart .
What is wrong with me?
I’m not usually this reactive, this emotional, but something about these three men pushes all my buttons—good and bad.
I hear the door open behind me and tense, expecting River with more of his persuasive arguments.
Instead, it’s Levi who steps out, and my breath catches involuntarily.
There’s something about him in the evening light—the way it catches on the sharp angles of his face, highlighting those high cheekbones and the line of his jaw.
Levi’s appeal is more subtle, more dangerous for how quietly it sneaks up on you.
His dark hair is swept back from his forehead, revealing more of those unusual amber eyes, which seem almost backlit from within.
“I apologize for River,” he says simply.
“He can be... overwhelming.”
My gaze drops traitorously to his mouth—the surprisingly full lower lips that call to me.
“It’s fine,” I sigh, leaning against the railing to steady myself.
“I overreacted.”
“Your reaction was perfectly reasonable,” Levi counters, coming to stand beside me but maintaining a respectful distance.
The sleeve of his dark t-shirt rides up slightly, revealing a powerfully strong forearm.
When he places his hands on the railing, I notice small, silvery scars across his knuckles.
“We’re asking you to trust us with your safety when you have very little reason to do so. ”
There’s a slight roughness to his voice that wasn’t there yesterday, as if he’s been up all night thinking about this about me.
His throat works as he swallows, and I find myself mesmerized by the movement.
My heart stutters in my chest.
“Then why ask?” I manage, struggling to keep my voice even.
When he turns to face me fully, I’m reminded that his lean frame hides considerable strength.
The t-shirt stretches across his shoulders, revealing the outline of so many muscles.
He touches the bridge of his nose briefly, a thinking gesture I’ve noticed before, and despite everything, I find myself wondering what it would be like to feel those hands moving over my skin with that same attention to detail.
He draws a breath to answer, and I find myself holding mine, suddenly aware of how much I care about what he’s about to say.
“Because it makes sense,” he replies after a moment.
“The station isn’t designed for anyone to live here long term. There’s no privacy, sirens going off at all hours, volunteers and shift workers constantly coming and going; it could be dangerous.”
I bite my lip, thinking about the unfinished manuscript saved on my laptop.
The deadline is looming.
The fact that returning to Moonshell Bay is impossible with the authorities still investigating the fire at the cabin…
and right now, I technically don’t have a place to live back home with Chad most likely ha ving packed up my stuff.
Bastard hasn’t even called me…
Regardless, I need to start writing for my deadline, as everything has derailed my writing completely.
“Besides,” Levi continues more gently.
“Wouldn’t you rather spend that time somewhere with actual decent water pressure, a kitchen that doesn’t smell like firefighter boots, and the best view in town?”
Despite myself, I smile a little.
“The shower pressure here is pretty terrible.”
“The cabin has the best shower in three counties,” he says, a hint of his usual charm returning.
“You’re really selling this hard,” I observe, studying him.
“Why?”
He looks at me for a long moment, all pretense falling away.
“Because none of us like the idea of you being alone right now. Not after everything you’ve been through.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed despite the station walls surrounding us.
“You don’t even know me.”
Levi shrugs.
“It’s our job to help people in danger, but that wouldn’t be entirely truthful.”
“Then what’s the truth?” I ask eagerly.
Before Levi can respond, the door opens again, and Atlas and River step out.
“Everything okay out here?” Atlas asks, his deep voice rumbling in the quiet night.
“Just getting some air,” I reply, straightening up.
“And listening to Levi’s perspective on your... offer. ”
“And?” River prompts, looking unreasonably hopeful.
“And I still think it’s a bad idea,” I say firmly.
“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t just move in with three Alphas I barely know.”
“Is it because of what Claire told you?” River asks.
I blink, caught off guard.
“How did you?—”
“You’ve been different since we got back,” River says.
“And you kept looking at her during dinner. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out she said something.”
“It wasn’t just that,” I hedge, though it was a significant factor.
“What did she say?” Atlas asks, his voice carefully neutral.
I hesitate, not wanting to create drama.
But they’re watching me with such intensity that I find myself answering.
“She said you three never can hold on to anyone for long. That you... have a pattern of not committing.”
The three exchange glances, having one of those silent conversations that close-knit groups can manage without words.
“Did she happen to mention she asked River out six months ago, and he said no?” Levi asks mildly.
My eyebrows shoot up.
“No.”
“Or that she then asked Levi right after that, then Atlas out three months ago and got the same answer?” River adds, crossing his arms .
“She left that part out,” I admit, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Claire.
Rejection is never easy.
“She’s not wrong that we’ve had our issues with relationships,” Atlas says carefully.
“But her perspective is... biased.”
“The point is,” River jumps in.
“We’re not asking you to date us. We’re offering you a safe place to stay while you sort out your situation.”
“With separate rooms,” Levi adds.
“Clear boundaries. And one of us would always be at the station.”
I look at each of them in turn.
All watching me closely.
“I don’t really have a place to go right now,” I admit finally.
“So that’s a yes?” River asks eagerly.
“It’s an ‘I’ll try it temporarily’ , ” I clarify.
“With conditions.”
“Name them,” Atlas says immediately.
“I need my own space. Complete privacy when I want it,” I begin, thinking rapidly.
“I need to be able to leave whenever I choose. No Alpha posturing or... or territorial behavior. And I help with expenses, food, utilities, whatever.”
“Done,” Atlas agrees without hesitation.
“Anything else?”
I consider for a moment.
“If at any point I feel uncomfortable, I leave. No questions asked.”
“Absolutely,” Levi nods.
“And no funny business,” I add, looking directly at River .
He places a hand over his heart.
“I am the very soul of propriety.”
Atlas snorts, and even Levi rolls his eyes.
“I mean it,” I insist. “This is about safety and practicality. Nothing else.”
“Of course,” Atlas assures me, though there’s something in his eyes that makes me doubt he believes it any more than I do.
“Fine,” I sigh, wondering if I’m making a huge mistake.
“When do we do this?”
“Tomorrow?” River suggests eagerly.
“We’re all off rotation until tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree, already questioning my sanity.
“You won’t regret this,” River says, his grin wide and genuine.
But as the three of them stand there, their scents mingling in the night air, wrapping around me like an invisible embrace, I’m not so sure.
Because despite all my conditions and barriers, I can feel myself being drawn to them.
All of them.
And that terrifies me more than being homeless ever could.
L ater that night, I’m packing my few belongings when there’s a soft knock at my door.
Expecting one of the volunteers, I’m surprised to find all three men standing in the hallway.
“Everything okay?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious in my borrowed pajamas.
“Just wanted to check if you need anything for tomorrow,” Atlas says.
“And to give you this,” River adds, holding out a small box.
“A welcome gift.”
I accept it warily.
“What is it?”
“Open it,” he urges, bouncing slightly on his toes like an eager child.
Inside is a small key attached to a wooden tag carved with a crescent moon, the same design as the tattoo on my wrist.
“It’s to the cabin,” Levi explains.
“Your own key. So you know you can come and go as you please.”
“How did you...” I gesture to the moon design, matching my tattoo perfectly.
“I noticed it earlier,” River admits.
“I’m observant about things that matter.”
The simple statement, delivered without his usual teasing tone, catches me off guard.
I look up to find all three watching me, and it makes my breath catch.
“Thank you,” I say softly, closing my fingers around the key.
“This was thoughtful.”
“We want you to feel safe with us, Emma,” Atlas says, his deep voice sincere.
“To know that you have control in this situation. ”
“I appreciate that,” I reply, and I mean it.
There’s a moment of silence, the four of us standing there, an invisible current seeming to flow between us.
Atlas inhales slightly, his pupils dilating.
Levi’s posture stiffens, and River’s perpetual smile fades, replaced by something hungrier.
“We should let you rest,” Atlas states finally, his voice rougher than before.
“Big day tomorrow.”
“Right,” I agree, though rest is the last thing on my mind with them standing so close.
“Goodnight, Emma,” Levi says softly.
“Sweet dreams,” River adds, his usual smile returning but with an edge I hadn’t noticed before.
They turn to leave, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Goodnight,” I manage, closing the door before I can do something stupid like ask them to stay.
I lean back against the door, heart racing, body burning up from the inside.
This isn’t normal. This level of reaction to three Alphas I barely know isn’t just attraction, it’s something more primal, more fundamental.
What am I doing?
I’ve spent years carefully avoiding entanglements, protecting myself.
And now I’m voluntarily moving into a remote cabin with three Alphas who make my body react like it’s been struck by lightning?
I’m either making the biggest mistake of my life or, somehow, impossibly, finding where I belong.
I’m terrified it might be both.