Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Leif
The dockhands’ laughter cuts through the Harbor Café’s morning chatter, their hunched shoulders and glowing phone screens pulling my attention away from the chalkboard menu.
One of them jabs a finger at whatever they’re watching, and the other throws his head back with a snort. The way they huddle together in shared mockery gives me flashbacks to my days as a public school teacher catching students passing notes in class.
I shift my weight from one foot to another, tallying how many people stand between me and my much-needed caffeine fix. Maybe I should have grabbed a cup from the hotel lounge, but it’s not as good.
With three customers ahead of me, plus whatever complicated order the woman at the counter is rattling off, I should still be out of here in the next ten minutes.
As the line inches forward, the dockhands’ voices rise.
“Play it again.” The taller one wipes tears from his eyes. “Man, what a predator.”
The word catches in my ear like fingernails on a blackboard. Predator. Not a term thrown around lightly.
My ears prick up, stretching to catch more of their conversation while pretending to study the pastry case.
The shorter dockhand holds the phone at an angle that gives me a clear view of the shaky video on screen, shot from the Pinecrest dock. My pulse quickens as I catch the Misty Pines Resort logo on the side of the water taxi, where there appears to be a scuffle on board.
“Fucking Alphas,” the taller one says, his finger tracing the movement of someone on screen. “Can’t control themselves around an Omega in Heat.”
“Did you see how the poor girl shrank back?” his companion adds with a whistle. “Poor thing had nowhere to run. Trapped on a boat with that animal.”
The video replays, and this time I recognize the figure at the center of the frame stumbling toward the woman, arms outstretched. Despite the poor quality, I recognize Jared Masterson’s profile as he grabs for her.
My stomach twists. I’ve only had a few brief interactions with Jared since I started working at the resort. He seemed... gentle. Awkward, yes. Clumsy, definitely. But predatory? The contrast between my impression and what I’m seeing doesn’t align.
The line moves off to the side, and the barista catches my eye. “The usual, Leif?”
“Yes, thank you.” I slide my card across the counter, my attention still snagged by the video playing on repeat.
The angle makes it impossible to see what happened before Jared moved toward the woman. Did she stumble? Was he trying to help? Or was he really lunging at her the way it appears?
The phone switches to another clip, this one showing Jared being led away in handcuffs, his face bloody.
“Ten bucks says he’s fired by the end of the day,” the shorter dockhand says.
“No bet. Wright Pack won’t want this kind of trouble.”
The barista slides my latte across the counter. “Cream’s on the side bar.”
I thank her and move to the condiment station, uncapping the cardboard cup. Steam rises in a curling plume as I reach for the cream pitcher. From this position, I can still see the dockhands, now reading comments on what must be a social media post.
“Two hundred thousand views already,” one whistles. “Dude’s life is over.”
The cream swirls into my coffee, creating a cloudy spiral, and I stir it with more force than necessary, sending a few drops splashing onto the counter.
If what they’re saying is true, if Jared attacked an Omega in Heat, then yes, his life at Misty Pines Resort is over. The Wright Pack is small and family-oriented. They’d never tolerate predatory behavior from any Alpha in their employ.
But the nagging feeling won’t leave me. What if the video doesn’t show the whole story?
I secure the lid on my cup and head to an empty table near the window, close enough to the dockhands to still catch snippets of their conversation.
“...says he got kicked out of the Fairwind Hotel last night.”
“Good. Who knows what he might’ve done to the Omegas staying there?”
I cradle my coffee between my palms, the warmth seeping into my skin. If the resort dismisses Jared, they’ll need a replacement water taxi operator. Kyle can’t handle the schedule alone, not with the summer season ramping up.
My fingers tap the cardboard sleeve. Will I be comfortable sharing a boat with Jared again?
The question rises unbidden, and I hate myself a little for it.
The few times we’ve crossed paths, he’s kept a respectful distance.
Never once has he made me uncomfortable with inappropriate staring or comments about my size or Omega status, unlike many other Alphas I’ve encountered.
But the video...
The dockhands move on to the next video in their queue, and I pull out my phone, hesitating before typing “Misty Pines water taxi incident” into the search bar.
The results flood my screen with news articles, social media posts, and video clips, all describing an Alpha water taxi operator who allegedly attacked an Omega passenger in Heat.
I click on one of the less sensational-looking articles, and the facts are sparse. A female Omega went into unexpected Heat on the water taxi, a fight broke out, and Jared Masterson was detained. He was released later the same evening without charges.
Released without charges. The viral conversation leaves out that detail.
Guilt washes over me at how quickly I slipped into believing the worst, letting a grainy video override my own limited but neutral impression of Jared. Isn’t that what I’ve spent my entire life fighting? People making assumptions about me based on incomplete information?
As an Omega who doesn’t fit the physical stereotype, I’ve been on the receiving end of rumors and whisper campaigns. I know what it’s like to have others decide who you are without bothering to learn the truth.
Yet here I am, convicting Jared based on a viral video and dock gossip.
The coffee sits like sludge in my stomach as I gather my things.
Outside, the morning sun glints off the harbor water, boats bobbing against the docks. It looks the same as it did yesterday, Pinecrest firmly entrenched in the late July heat.
As I round the corner of Pinecrest Bakery, my shoulder connects with a grocery bag, sending a carton of eggs teetering toward the sidewalk.
I lunge to catch it, my fingers closing around the cardboard a split second before disaster. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!”
“No worries,” a familiar voice says. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, either. Thanks for the save. Breaking eggs on the sidewalk would’ve been the perfect cap to my morning.”
I straighten as Grady juggles the bag with his cane, trying to find a balance between the two.
When he spots me, his hazel eyes widen in recognition. “Well, fancy running into you. Having a good day off from babysitting duty? Quinn can be quite the handful.”
“I’m getting better at figuring out how to direct her energy. How’s your day going, except for the whole flying eggs thing?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. I decided that it was a beautiful day to get some shopping done.”
The bakery door swings open behind us, and we shuffle to the side, creating a small island in the flow of pedestrian traffic.
“Let me help you with these.” I place the eggs back in his paper bag and take it from his hand, feeling the weight of canned goods at the bottom.
Grady doesn’t protest, which tells me his leg is bothering him more than usual today. “Appreciate it. I might have been a little too ambitious with my shopping list.”
We move toward a nearby bench beneath the bakery’s striped awning. The morning sun warms the wooden slats, and the scent of fresh bread wafts through the open door, mingling with the salt air from the harbor.
I set the bags down between us.
From the café’s outdoor tables, a man’s voice carries on the morning air. “That Alpha kid’s finished. This is why giving jobs to outsiders is never a good idea. Who vouched for him? Who’s his familial pack?”
Grady’s hand tightens around the handle of his cane, knuckles whitening. I turn toward the café patio, where two men in business casual attire lean over coffee cups, heads close together.
“Caught the whole thing on video,” the other man says, waving his phone. “My niece was on the dock when it happened. Said the Alpha went berserk when he smelled the Omega in Heat.”
The muscles in Grady’s jaw flex beneath his trimmed beard. He leans closer, and I tilt my head to catch his words.
“Kyle pulled the boat footage from the security camera.” His eyes flick toward the men and back to me. “The poor kid didn’t even realize what was happening.”
I blink in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Grady shifts on the bench, grimacing as he adjusts his position. “There was a couple on board with two other Alphas. The woman went into Heat, and the other Alphas started harassing her. Her boyfriend tried to protect her, and a fight broke out.”
The grocery bag crinkles as I grip its edge. “And Jared?”
“He left the wheel to break up the fight. When the boat rocked, the woman almost fell. He reached out to steady her.” Grady taps his cane in irritation.
“The boyfriend thought Jared was attacking her and punched him. That’s the moment everyone’s sharing.
Jared, with his arms out, the woman shrinking back, and the boyfriend’s fist connecting with his face.
I hope his jaw and nose are okay. The other guy was huge. ”
The story contradicts the narrative I’ve been hearing all morning. “How do you know this?”
Grady hesitates before he leans in to whisper, “Kyle told me he’s scent-blind. Can’t pick up pheromones at all. That’s why he looked so lost in the video. Everyone else on that boat knew she was in Heat except him.”
The revelation hits me like a slap, bringing back the sense of shame from earlier, only with double the self-recrimination.
“The whole mainland is condemning him for something he couldn’t even perceive,” I murmur, shame washing over me as I recall my own thoughts at the Harbor Café.