Chapter 12 Silas #2
She went very still. “No. I can’t be. My suppressants have never failed before.”
“Stress can trigger early heat. Proximity to compatible alphas can override suppressants. And you’ve been running on empty for eighteen hours in a building full of emergency responders.” I kept my voice gentle, but firm. “You need to acknowledge what’s happening before it becomes dangerous.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And I’m not saying this to control you or tell you what to do. I’m saying this because being a scent-sensitive alpha means I can literally feel your biology shifting, and you’re maybe six hours from heat hitting full force.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Scent-sensitive?”
I hadn’t meant to tell her that. Hadn’t told anyone in Hollow Haven, because people got weird about it. But the exhaustion and stress made me careless.
“Yeah. I can read emotions through pheromones. It’s why I’m good at my job and also why I’m extremely tired right now, because I’ve been feeling everyone’s panic and fear for twelve straight hours.
” I rubbed my eyes. “But that’s not the point.
The point is, you can’t be here when your heat hits. It’s not safe.”
“I’m the coordinator. People need me.”
“People need you safe. And you won’t be safe here.
” I glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear.
“Sable, there are seventy alphas in this building. When your heat hits full force, your scent is going to call to all of them. Most will have enough control to stay away, but not all. And even if they do, you’ll be vulnerable and exposed and that’s not acceptable. ”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing. I could feel the fear coming off her in waves, mixed with stubborn determination and something else. Something that felt like longing.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she finally said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “My apartment is twenty minutes away and I can’t drive in this condition. Hotels are full because of evacuees. But I can’t just leave.”
“You’re not leaving. You’re coordinating from somewhere safe where you’re not surrounded by strange alphas.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m texting Beau and Dane. We’ll figure this out.”
“Silas, you can’t just make decisions for me.”
“I’m not making decisions for you. I’m giving you information and support so you can make the right decision for yourself.” I met her eyes. “But I need you to make it fast, because in about four hours, your biology is going to take over and you won’t have a choice.”
I sent the message. Sable’s heat is imminent. Maybe 4-6 hours. She can’t stay here. Need secure location immediately.
Beau’s response came within seconds. On it. Where is she?
Dane’s was even faster. Outside command center. I see her. We need to move now.
I looked up to find both of them converging on our position, moving with the coordinated precision we’d developed over the past twelve hours. Beau from the equipment bay, Dane from the security station, both of them focused entirely on Sable.
When they reached us, the three of us formed a loose triangle around her. Not crowding, not caging, but creating a barrier between her and the rest of the building. Protecting her from attention she didn’t want.
“We’re not doing this here,” Dane said quietly. “Too many people. Supply room, now.”
Sable looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Dane’s tone made her nod. We moved as a unit, the four of us slipping into the supply room and closing the door.
The space was small, packed with emergency equipment and supplies. With four people, it felt claustrophobic. But it was private.
“Your heat’s coming,” Dane said. No question, just statement of fact.
“Silas says I have four to six hours,” Sable replied, defensive. “That’s enough time to coordinate transfer of command to the county emergency manager and establish remote communication protocols.”
“It’s not enough time,” Beau said gently. “And you know it. By the time you get all that set up, you’ll be too far into heat to think straight.”
“I can’t just leave people without coordination.”
“You can coordinate from somewhere safe,” I said. “Remote check-ins, radio communication, whatever you need. But you have to get out of this building before your heat hits full force.”
She looked at each of us, and I could feel her emotions churning. Fear and frustration and something that felt like grief, like she was mourning the control she’d built her entire life around.
“I don’t know where to go,” she said again.
“We’ll figure it out,” Beau told her. “Together. You’re not alone in this.”
“Why are you three doing this?” The question came out raw, unfiltered. “Why do you care?”
I answered before I could stop myself. “Because you matter. Because the past six weeks have made it pretty clear that we’re all heading somewhere together, even if we’ve been too scared to admit it. And because I can’t watch you put yourself in danger trying to prove you don’t need anyone.”
“We’ll take care of you,” Beau added quietly. “After. When this is over. You coordinate from somewhere safe, we’ll be your hands in the field. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen.”
Dane was the last to speak, his voice carrying absolute certainty. “You’re not facing this alone. We’re pack, even if we haven’t said it out loud yet. And pack protects each other.”
Sable stared at him. “We’re not pack. We barely know each other.”
“We know enough.” He pulled out his phone. “I have a place. Secure safe house on the mountain. Designed for exactly this kind of scenario. Fully stocked, generator backup, communication equipment. You can coordinate from there, and you’ll be safe.”
“With all three of you,” she said slowly.
“If you’ll have us.” His eyes met hers. “We’re not asking for anything you’re not ready to give. But we’re not leaving you alone during your heat, either. Not when we can help.”
The silence stretched. I could feel her processing, weighing options, trying to maintain the control that defined her.
Finally, she nodded. “Four hours to set up remote coordination. Then we go.”
“Two hours,” Dane corrected. “You’re already showing pre-heat symptoms. We need buffer time.”
“Three hours. That’s my final offer.”
He studied her, then nodded. “Three hours. But I’m not leaving your side until we’re at the safe house.”
“Neither am I,” Beau added.
I grinned despite the exhaustion and stress. “Someone’s gotta keep you all from being too serious. Count me in.”
Sable looked at the three of us, and for the first time since I’d known her, I saw the walls crack. Saw the vulnerability underneath all that competent authority.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
We had three hours to get her somewhere safe before her heat hit.
And maybe, just maybe, we had a chance at becoming the pack we were all too scared to admit we wanted.