Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Emily
Ipull into the harbor parking lot, the sea breeze carrying salt and diesel through my open window.
The harbor security office sits at the far end, where weekend boaters go to pay for mooring violations, not handle assault allegations.
Now, a knot of people clusters outside the squat building with tinted windows.
As I shut off the engine and hop out, voices drift across the asphalt.
“—tried to corner her when she was in Heat—”
“—works for Misty Pines Resort, can you believe it?—”
“—should know better than to hire an Alpha that young—”
The crowd parts as I approach, my height and the set of my shoulders clearing a path without words. I catch fragments of conversation, each one stoking the flame of my anger. Not at Jared now, but at how fast judgments form, and how easily they can shatter a person’s reputation.
Near the door, a woman’s head snaps up, her nostrils flaring as she catches my scent. “You here about the Heat assault?”
I stop in front of her. “I’m here for Jared Masterson.”
Her expression shifts, eyebrows rising. “You’re with him?”
“I’m his supervisor.” The half-truth rolls off my tongue without hesitation.
She studies my face, searching for disgust, maybe, or solidarity. Finding neither, she steps back, the others following her lead.
I take a breath, centering myself.
This isn’t my problem, I tell myself one last time.
But as I push open the peeling blue door to the security office, I know that’s not true.
A Beta officer with thinning hair looks up from his clipboard, his expression hardening when he spots me. Irritation stiffens his posture as he stands, blocking the path to the back rooms where they keep people who aren’t arrested but aren’t free to leave, either.
“Can I help you?”
I plant my feet shoulder-width apart, claiming the space. “I’m here for Jared Masterson.”
He consults his clipboard with exaggerated care. “Mr. Masterson isn’t receiving visitors. We’re still conducting our investigation.”
“I’m not a visitor. I’m his supervisor.” I step closer, using my height to stare him down. “He called me.”
The officer’s chest puffs up. “That may be, but—”
“Jared Masterson is my responsibility.” I lean in until he falters, eyes dropping to the floor. “You’ll let me see him.”
A murmur ripples through the small waiting area, and an angry young Alpha turns toward me in challenge. He must be the one making the accusations.
“Ten minutes,” the security guard relents. “Supervised only.”
He unlocks the door behind the desk, revealing a narrow hallway with doors on either side. As I follow him, the whispers grow louder, Jared’s name repeated with increasing hostility.
“In here.” The officer stops at the last door, punching a code into a keypad. “Keep your distance. He’s still considered a potential threat.”
The door swings open to reveal a small room with bare walls and a metal table bolted to the floor.
When I enter, Jared’s head snaps up, disbelief washing over his face.
He sits on the far side, one wrist cuffed to the metal chair he sits in. Dried blood crusts along his upper lip and chin, his nose swollen to twice its normal size. Dark circles shadow his eyes, red-rimmed and fixed on the scratched surface in front of him.
“Emily.” My name comes out rough and nasal from his injured nose. “You came.”
The officer hovers at my shoulder. “Ten minutes. I’ll be right outside.”
When the door closes, Jared’s brittle composure crumbles. His free hand trembles as he runs it through his hair, leaving it standing in disheveled spikes.
“I swear I didn’t try to assault her. I didn’t know—” The words tumble out in a panicked stream.
“There was this couple, and these two guys kept watching them, and everyone was acting weird, but I was focused on driving the boat. As we neared the docks, they started fighting. I tried to break it up, and—”
I place my palm flat on the table, and he falls silent, his breathing ragged.
“Slower.” I pull out the chair opposite him and sit. “Start from the beginning.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “This was my first solo run as captain. There were four passengers, a couple and two single hikers. The woman, Mia, was acting strange, but I thought she was seasick.”
His cuffed hand twists in the restraint, metal clinking against metal.
“The other two hikers kept watching her, and her boyfriend got protective. They started arguing and then fighting. I left the wheel to break it up.” He gestures to his nose.
“A wave hit the boat, and she almost fell. When I reached out to steady her, the boyfriend thought I was going after her and punched me.”
“And you didn’t realize she was in Heat?”
Shame washes over his features, and he drops his gaze. “I can’t smell pheromones.”
Shock rocks through me, followed by sympathy, and a painful tug comes from my chest. A scent-blind Alpha will struggle to find a pack. No wonder he can’t regulate his own pheromones. He has no way of knowing what they’re telling everyone around him about his emotions.
His shoulders hunch. “Everyone else knew she was going into Heat. They were reacting to it. But I had no idea until I touched her skin and felt how hot she was.”
I study the genuine fear in his expression and the way he curls inward. Nothing about him reads like a predator caught in the act. Everything about him screams confusion and terror.
“What are they charging you with?”
“They haven’t decided.” His shoulders curl inward. “They’re taking statements from the boyfriend and the people on the dock who saw the end of it. Nobody’s listening to me.”
“They think you left the wheel because you were targeting her.” The pieces click into place.
“Yeah,” he says, jaw tight and red rimming his sea-glass green eyes, making them even more vibrant. “They think I was in on it with the other two, engineering the whole thing to get her alone on the boat where she couldn’t escape.”
The thought turns my stomach. Such a thing happens too often, Alphas abusing positions of power to isolate vulnerable Omegas. But nothing about Jared fits the profile, from his awkward honesty to his genuine bewilderment about what’s happening right now.
“Have you told them you’re scent-blind?”
“They don’t believe me.” Tears well up. “They think it’s an excuse.”
I drum my fingers on the table, considering options. If they decide to press charges, his life is effectively over. Even if he’s cleared later, the accusation alone will follow him everywhere. No job will hire him, and no pack will accept him.
“Who threw the first punch in the fight?”
“The boyfriend, Derek. But he was defending her.” Jared winces as he touches his nose. “I get why he did it.”
“And the other two passengers?”
“They ran as soon as we neared the dock.”
That detail catches my attention. “They fled the scene?”
“Yeah. Jumped off before we were docked.”
As I process this information, the pieces realign. Two unattached Alphas who recognized an Omega in Heat, pursued her despite her boyfriend’s presence, then disappeared when things got complicated.
“Have they taken your statement?”
He shakes his head. “They said they’d get to it. But they keep talking to everyone else first.”
The door opens, and the officer leans in. “Time’s up.”
I hold up a hand. “Two more minutes.”
The Beta hesitates before withdrawing.
I lean closer to Jared, lowering my voice. “Listen to me. Don’t volunteer any more information. Don’t try to explain or defend yourself. Tell them you want to give a formal statement, and that you want me present when you do.”
Hope flickers across his face. “You believe me?”
The question hits harder than it should. When was the last time someone looked at me with such raw trust? Outside of the job, no one has blindly trusted me in the months since Auren left, taking my faith in my own judgment with him.
“Yes.” I surprise myself with the certainty. “I believe you.”
His breath releases in a long exhale, shoulders dropping as tension bleeds out of him. The relief on his face pulls at a protective instinct I’ve tried to keep buried.
“I’ll get you out of here,” I say, the words a promise I hadn’t planned to give. “But I need to talk to the officers first.”
“Thank you.” His voice catches, hoarse with emotion. “I didn’t know who else would come.”
The door opens again, the officer’s face set in impatient lines. Our time is up.
As I stand, Jared’s cuffed hand stretches toward me, stopping short when the restraint holds him back. “Emily...”
I meet his eyes, seeing not the awkward kid who spilled coffee on the boat deck his first day in training, but a young man caught in circumstances beyond his control. Someone who called me, out of everyone he could have reached out to, because he believed I would help.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him, and for the first time in months, the weight of someone else’s trust settles on my shoulders. A burden I thought I’d never carry again.
I force myself to turn away before I can second-guess my decision.
The officer falls into step behind me, shepherding me back down the narrow hallway. As the door clicks shut behind us, my jaw clenches. Each step through the station tightens the coil of anger in my chest, not at Jared, but at how fast they’ve decided what kind of Alpha he must be.
By the time I reach the front desk again, my expression has hardened into an angry scowl that sends the cluster of onlookers scattering without a word.
The security office supervisor stands with his back to the harbor wall map, arms folded across his chest, not backing down like his officer had. Two uniformed Alphas angle toward the desk, their scents bristling with aggression.
Behind him, a female officer files paperwork, pretending not to listen while her pen scratches loudly enough to hear across the room.
“You need to release him,” I say, maintaining my calm despite the anger simmering beneath. “He’s scent-blind. He had no idea the Omega was in Heat.”