33. Blake’s Escalation To Acquire The Present #3
"Stay back," he tells me quietly, then moves to the door. His hand hovers over the locks for a moment before he checks the phone one more time. "It's definitely Wendolyn's car behind the cruiser."
He opens the door carefully, body positioned to block any direct line to the living room.
To me. To Luna. Always protecting, even when the threat might be wearing a badge.
"Chief," Cole says evenly. "Ms. Murphy. Late for a social call."
"This isn't social." Chief Reyes's voice carries the kind of authority that comes from years of not taking anyone's shit. "May we come in? What I have to say shouldn't be discussed on doorsteps."
Cole glances back at us, a silent question in the look. River nods slightly, and Cole steps aside. "Of course."
They enter like opposing forces—Wendolyn all worried energy and fluttering hands, Chief Reyes moving with the controlled precision of someone who's walked into too many volatile situations.
She's younger than I expected, maybe early forties, with silver threading through black hair pulled into a severe bun.
Her uniform is crisp despite the late hour, and her dark eyes sweep the room with professional assessment, cataloging exits, positions, threat levels.
"Willa." Wendolyn rushes to me, ignoring protocol to pull me into a fierce hug. She smells like vanilla and stress, her usually perfect makeup smudged around the eyes. "I'm so sorry about the market. If I'd known Blake was going to show up?—"
"It's not your fault," I manage, returning the hug even as my body stays tense.
"No, it's his." Chief Reyes positions herself where she can see everyone, hand resting casually on her duty belt. Not threatening, just ready. "Mr. Harrison made quite a scene. Multiple witnesses have already given statements about his behavior."
"Statements?" Mavi shifts his laptop, suddenly interested. "Official ones?"
"Very official." The chief's smile is sharp as a blade. "Seems your ex-husband miscalculated how Sweetwater Falls feels about outsiders threatening our residents. Pearl Chen-Morrison was particularly detailed in her account."
"He stayed fifty-one feet away," I say, hating how defensive it sounds. "Technically, he didn't violate?—"
"The restraining order, no. But Montana has stalking laws, Ms. James. Harassment laws. And what Mr. Harrison did today?" She pulls out a small notebook, flipping through pages. "That's textbook intimidation."
Luna fusses in Austin's arms, picking up on the room's tension. He bounces her automatically, but his attention is fixed on the chief. We're all coiled springs, waiting for the next blow to fall.
"You said you have something we need to hear," Cole prompts when the silence stretches too long.
Chief Reyes nods slowly. "But first, I need to see what you have. Wendolyn mentioned you've been documenting things. Security footage?"
Mavi and Cole exchange glances, some silent debate happening in the space between them. Trust the cops or handle it themselves—I can read the conflict in their faces. Finally, Mavi turns his laptop toward the chief.
"Started noticing patterns about a week ago," he says, pulling up the first file. "Black Lincoln, license plate partially obscured, making regular passes."
Chief Reyes leans forward, and I watch her expression harden as Mavi walks her through the footage. The repeated drive-bys. The figure watching from the tree line. The mapped patterns of our routines that Blake has clearly been tracking.
"Forty-three minutes," she murmurs when Mavi shows the timestamp of Blake lurking outside my window. "Premeditation. Planning. This is..." She pauses, choosing words carefully. "This is escalation behavior."
"Escalation toward what?" Austin asks, though we all know the answer.
"Violence." The word drops like a stone into still water. "In my experience, when an abuser starts surveillance at this level, they're planning something."
Cole's fist hits the coffee table with enough force to crack the wood. The sound makes everyone jump—Luna starts crying, Wendolyn gasps, and the chief's hand moves instinctively toward her weapon before she catches herself.
"Cole—" I start, but he's already pulling his hand back, staring at the damage like it surprised him.
"I'm fine," he grits out, though blood wells from his knuckles. "Table's not. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Chief Reyes says quietly. "I'd have broken more than furniture if someone was stalking my family."
Family. The word hits different coming from an outsider, official acknowledgment of what we are to each other. Mavi continues showing footage while Austin soothes Luna and River quietly retrieves the first aid kit for Cole's hand.
"We're implementing additional security tomorrow," Mavi explains, outlining his plans with military precision. "Motion sensors, infrared cameras, randomized schedules?—"
"Good start," the chief interrupts. "But you'll need more. Official documentation of every incident. Regular check-ins with my department. And—" She pauses, something shifting in her expression. "There's precedent you need to know about."
The room goes still again, even Luna's fussing quieting as if she senses the weight of what's coming.
"Chief," Wendolyn says softly, a warning or encouragement, I can't tell which.
"They need to know." Chief Reyes straightens, authority settling around her like armor.
"For their safety and for legal preparation.
" She turns to address all of us, but her eyes find mine.
"We're implementing official protective protocols around this property.
Increased patrols, direct emergency line, the works. "
"That seems—" River starts.
"Necessary," she cuts him off. "Because we're not having a repeat of what happened to Celeste."
The name hits the room like a lightning strike. All four men go rigid—Cole's bandaged hand clenches, River's breath catches audibly, Mavi's typing stops mid-keystroke, and Austin pulls Luna tighter against his chest. The reaction is so visceral, so immediate, that my skin prickles with awareness.
"Who's Celeste?" My voice comes out smaller than intended.
Heavy silence fills the space, the kind that speaks of old wounds and carefully guarded secrets.
Chief Reyes looks between my men, reading something in their faces that makes her expression soften with understanding.
She glances at someone I hadn't noticed before—a deputy who'd entered silently behind her, positioning himself by the door.
He's older, grizzled in the way of career cops, with kind eyes that have seen too much.
The deputy steps forward at some invisible signal from his chief.
"Celeste Torres was Luna's mother," he says gently, each word measured. "An omega who was killed in a fire set by her abusive pack."
The world tilts sideways. I stare at Luna—sweet, perfect Luna with her mismatched eyes and happy babble—then at her fathers who suddenly won't meet my gaze. My mind races, connecting dots I didn't know existed. Another omega. Another fire. Another death that brought them together.
"Set by," I repeat numbly. "You mean?—"
"Murdered," Chief Reyes confirms. "The official report ruled it accidental, but we know better. Just like we know what your ex-husband intended when he locked you in that burning house."
My legs give out. I sink onto the couch, hands shaking as the parallels crash over me. No wonder they were so ready to take me in. No wonder they understood without explanation. They'd walked this path before—found another omega fleeing abuse, given her shelter, tried to protect her.
And failed.
"You never said." The words come out accusing, though I don't mean them to. "All this time, and you never?—"
"It wasn't our story to tell," River says quietly. "Celeste was... private. Guarded. She'd been running for so long, trust came hard."
"Sound familiar?" Austin adds, bouncing Luna when she starts to fuss again. "Scared omega shows up out of nowhere, wrapped in secrets and old wounds?"
The comparison stings because it's accurate. How many times have I deflected questions about my past, changed subjects when they got too close to painful truths? But this—this feels like a betrayal of a different magnitude. They let me walk blind into a situation they'd lived before.
"We were going to tell you," Cole says roughly. "When things were calmer. When you felt safer. But then Blake?—"
"Blake knows, doesn't he?" The realization hits like ice water. "His comment at the market about Luna taking after her mother. He knows what happened to Celeste."
"Probably," Mavi confirms, jaw tight. "Abusive packs share information. Success stories and failures both. What works, what doesn't, how to avoid consequences."
"Which is why we're not letting history repeat itself," Chief Reyes interjects firmly. "My department failed Celeste. The system failed her. But we learn from our mistakes."
Through the window, headlights sweep across the yard—slow, deliberate. We all tense, but the car continues past without stopping. Just someone heading home, but the reminder of our vulnerability hangs heavy in the air.
"She named us," Austin says suddenly, pressing a kiss to Luna's head. "In her will. Said we were the only pack she'd ever trusted. The only alphas who saw her as a person instead of a possession."
"We tried to protect her," River adds, pain threading through his voice. "Thought we had. She left to keep us safe—said her past was too dangerous, that she couldn't risk it following her here."
"But it found her anyway," Cole finishes. "Three states away, starting fresh, and they still found her."
The weight of their failure sits heavy in the room, shaping everything that's happened since. Their immediate acceptance of me. The fierce protection. The way they look at me sometimes like they're seeing a ghost.
"I'm not her," I say quietly. "I'm not Celeste."