Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
HOLLY
The Lodge is nothing like I expected. From the outside, it’s a massive timber structure with a steeply pitched roof, looking like something out of an alpine fairy tale.
Inside, it’s all warm wood paneling, mounted animal heads, and the competing scents of whiskey, pine, and wood-smoke.
The space thrums with energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and the low murmur of dozens of conversations happening at once.
I hesitate at the entrance, overwhelmed by the sensory assault.
My omega instincts flare, urging me to retreat from this many unfamiliar people in an enclosed space.
But Noah’s hand settles on the small of my back, his touch grounding me.
Grayson flanks my other side, his solid presence creating a buffer between me and the crowd.
Kai bounces ahead, already waving to people he knows, which seems to be everyone.
“Breathe,” Noah murmurs close to my ear. “We can leave anytime you want.”
I nod, drawing in a deep breath. Ever since my heat ended, even back on suppressants, I’ve been so much more aware of the scents and smells that the medication had previously subdued.
Eventually I’ll get used to it, but it’s become very easy to get overwhelmed in crowds.
The scents eventually sort themselves out as I focus—different designations mingling together, food from the kitchen, the sharp bite of alcohol.
It’s manageable. I’m a doctor, for god’s sake. I can handle a bar.
“Dr. Klinkhart!” A burly man behind the bar raises his hand in greeting. “Heard about that cave rescue today. Nice work!”
Noah guides me forward, his hand never leaving my back. “Thanks, Mike, but Dr. Chang here did all the heavy lifting. Emergency thoracentesis in a cave with nothing but a basic field kit.”
Mike’s eyebrows shoot up as he surveys me. “No kidding? That’s impressive.”
“Just doing my job,” I say automatically, feeling my cheeks warm. I’ve never been good at taking compliments.
“Well, your job deserves a drink on the house.” Mike gestures to a table that’s miraculously clearing out despite the packed room. “Your usual spot’s opening up, guys.”
Noah thanks him, and we make our way to the table as I distantly recognize that I’m slotting into a life these men were already living before I arrived. It’s impossible to know whether I’ll actually be able to make myself fit.
I notice several people nodding respectfully to Noah, a few giving curious glances my way. A table of first responders in the corner raise their glasses to us.
“Do you always get this kind of treatment?” I ask Noah as we slide into the booth.
“Small town,” he says with a shrug, but there’s something in his expression—a mixture of discomfort and resignation—that suggests it’s more complicated than that. “Everyone knows us.”
Kai returns with a tray of drinks before I can press further.
“First round, as promised! Cherry coke for the mountain man because he is our designated driver, beer for the small-town doctor with a God complex, something fruity and sweet for our hero of the hour.” He places a colorful cocktail in front of me, while keeping the shot for himself, “and tequila for the most handsome man in the room.”
“What is this, exactly?” I ask, eyeing the bright pink concoction.
“Trust me,” Kai winks. “If you’re going to celebrate, you need to do it properly.”
I take a cautious sip and am surprised by the pleasant balance of sweetness and tartness with an underlying kick of alcohol. “It’s good,” I admit.
“Of course it is. I have excellent taste.” Kai raises his shot glass. “To Holly Chang, who stuck a needle in a man’s chest while hanging upside down in a cave like some kind of medical spider-woman.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened,” I laugh, but clink my glass against his anyway.
“To Holly,” Noah and Grayson echo, their voices a harmonious rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
As we drink, I find myself relaxing into the booth, sandwiched between Noah and Grayson with Kai across from us.
The warmth of their bodies on either side of me feels protective rather than confining.
It’s strange how quickly I’ve adapted to their presence, how natural it feels to be surrounded by them.
“So,” Kai leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief, “now that we’ve established where you’ll be for Christmas, now we need to figure out how we’re celebrating it.”
I’m not sure how to respond. My family never celebrated Christmas when I was a kid, the holiday really only noteworthy by how jealous I would be of my classmates when they came back from winter break bragging about their presents. I’d planned to spend this year on call at the clinic.
The thought of spending a snowy Christmas morning wrapped up in a blanket in front of a fire surrounded by these three alphas makes my stomach twist with yearning.
I want it so badly that the idea feels too dangerous to explore closely.
Bond aside, I’ve only just met these men.
Am I setting myself up for heartbreak by getting so close to them when I have no idea how we’re actually going to make this work over the longterm.
They all look at me expectantly, patiently waiting for my response. As if he sensed my surge of fear, I feel the steady pulse of Noah’s reassurance through the bond. None of them are going to ask for more of me than I give, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still want everything.
I still open my mouth to claim that Christmas doesn’t really make sense to spend together. But before I can tell a lie that I know is entirely born of irrational fear, we’re interrupted.
“Well, well, well. Noah Klinkhart slumming it with the locals? I thought you’d be back in the city by now.”
The voice is smooth and cultured, with an underlying edge that immediately sets my teeth on edge. I look up to see a tall man standing at our table, his attention fixed squarely on me despite his words being directed at Noah.
He’s handsome in a polished way—expensive haircut, tailored clothes, confident stance. Alpha, definitely, with an off-putting metallic scent that reminds me of blood. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which are calculating as they sweep over me.
“Blackthorn,” Noah acknowledges coolly. “I didn’t realize tourist season had started early this year.”
The man ignores the jab, extending his hand to me instead. “Ryder Blackthorn. And you must be the new doctor everyone’s talking about.”
I hesitate before taking his hand, not missing how both Noah and Grayson tense beside me. “Holly Chang.”
His grip is firm, holding a beat too long. “A pleasure to meet you, Holly. I’ve heard... interesting things.”
“What are you doing back in town, Blackthorn?” Grayson’s voice is low, dangerous. “Thought you only showed your face in summer with the other tourists.”
Ryder finally releases my hand, turning his attention to Grayson. His smile sharpens. “Ghost. Still hiding behind that ridiculous mask, I see.”
Grayson doesn’t respond, but I feel him coil tighter beside me, like a spring ready to snap.
“My business isn’t any of yours,” Ryder continues smoothly, “unless you’ve reconsidered selling that run-down general store. I did make Jenkins an offer first, after all.”
“I would have happily let you buy it,” Grayson replies, “if I didn’t know you only wanted the land to sell to developers.”
Ryder laughs, the sound cold and dismissive. “You’re all ridiculous, you know that? Clinging to this dying town like it’s something worth saving. Heat Mountain is nothing more than a tourist trap waiting to happen. Might as well sell while the land is still worth something.”
The casual cruelty in his voice makes my stomach turn. I’ve only been here a short time, but I’ve seen the community, the way people look out for each other. It’s more than Ryder Blackthorn could possibly understand.
“We’re here for a celebration,” Noah says, his voice clipped. “One that doesn’t include you. Time to move on, Blackthorn.”
Ryder doesn’t budge, his eyes sliding back to me with a look that makes my skin crawl. “What about you, Dr. Chang? I’d be happy to show you something a bit more exciting than a small-town bar.”
Before I can tell him where to stuff it, Noah and Grayson both stand, the movement so synchronized it’s as if they rehearsed it. The message is clear—alpha posturing at its most basic. Back off.
Ryder just laughs, reaching into his jacket to pull out a business card. He tosses it onto the table in front of me. “Call me when you get tired of spending all your time with small-town folk. I could show you what real civilization looks like.”
The condescension in his tone ignites something in me. I’ve spent my entire life being underestimated—as an omega, as a woman, as someone who doesn’t fit neatly into other people’s expectations. I’m done with it.
“I prefer small towns to small minds,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily. “Which you clearly have.”
The bar goes quiet around us, conversations pausing as people sense the confrontation brewing. Ryder’s face darkens, a flash of genuine anger breaking through his polished exterior.
“I should have known,” he spits, “you’re the type who needs to jump on multiple dicks a night to stay satisfied. I thought only omegas knew how to be real whores.”
The words aren’t nearly as insulting as his tone of disgust. I flinch, shame and anger warring inside me. But before I can respond, Grayson moves.
It happens so fast I almost miss it. He cracks his neck once, a casual movement that somehow manages to be terrifying, then delivers an open-palm slap across Ryder’s face with enough force to send the man staggering backward.
The sound echoes through the now-silent bar. Ryder catches himself against another table, his cheek already reddening from the impact.
“If I have to drag you outside,” Grayson says, his voice deadly quiet, “my fist will be closed for the next hit. And you won’t be getting up afterward.
” He pauses, then adds with chilling calm, “Unluckily for you, most of the town’s medical personnel are otherwise occupied.
So it’s probably best for you to leave on your own. ”
No one moves to intervene. Not the bartender, not the other patrons, not even the table of first responders. It’s as if the entire room has collectively decided that whatever happens to Ryder Blackthorn, he has it coming.
Ryder straightens, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burn with humiliation and rage. “You’re going to regret that,” he says, his gaze sweeping over all of us before settling on me. “This whole town doesn’t know how sorry it’s going to be.”
He turns and staggers toward the exit, the crowd parting silently to let him pass.
As the door slams behind him, conversations gradually resume, though I notice several people glancing our way with expressions ranging from curiosity to concern.
“Well,” Kai says brightly, breaking the tension at our table, “I think we need another round.”
“I’m sorry,” Grayson says quietly, looking at me. “I shouldn’t have—“
“Don’t apologize,” I cut him off, reaching for his hand under the table. “He deserved it.”
Grayson’s fingers curl around mine, warm and calloused. The simple touch grounds me, pushing back the lingering unease from Ryder’s words.
“Blackthorn’s all talk,” Noah assures me, settling back into his seat. “Everyone in town knows he’s an asshole.”
“He seemed pretty serious to me,” I say, unable to shake the cold feeling that’s settled in my stomach.
“He’s been a nuisance for years. Grew up here, but left after high school. He likes to come back in the tourist season and make sure everyone knows how provincial we think we are,” Kai adds, signaling for more drinks. “Don’t worry about him.”
I nod, trying to accept their reassurances. But something about Ryder Blackthorn’s parting words lingers like a bad taste in my mouth. A sense of foreboding that I can’t quite shake.
I’m learning how to trust the instincts I’ve spent a lifetime ignoring. And right now, they’re telling me that Ryder Blackthorn is more dangerous than anyone in this room wants to admit.