Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Leif
Itell myself I’m just here to catch the water taxi, but my pulse says otherwise.
The scent of salt and diesel clings to the air, familiar as breath, wrapping around me as I cradle a cup of coffee and stare across the harbor. Sunlight skips over the water, turning the waves to molten gold, but the view can’t hold my attention.
Every crunch of gravel behind me pulls my attention toward the parking lot, toward the truck I hope and dread to see. It’s been almost two weeks since Emily’s come to the island, but I heard Nathaniel and Blake talking yesterday about her returning to work today.
The coffee burns my tongue, but I welcome the sting. It’s easier to focus on that than the coil of anticipation tightening in my chest.
The morning hums with motion, with fishing boats sliding out to sea, and shop owners unlock their doors. Gulls circle overhead with impatient cries.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I check it, I find another message from Quinn’s uncle, approving my idea for a science experiment today.
I tap out a quick reply, promising to clean everything up by dinner. The little girl’s enthusiasm for experiments surprises me every time, a bright, uncomplicated spot in this new life I’ve started to settle into.
The crunch of tires draws my head around again, and my pulse jumps at the sight of Emily’s blue truck pulling into the lot, sunlight catching on the faded paint.
I take another swallow of coffee, pretending the burn in my throat comes only from the heat.
She’s not alone. The passenger door swings open, and Jared steps out.
The last time I saw him, he was crumpled in the passenger seat of my car, face bruised and bleeding, holding his ribs.
The man walking toward me now bears little resemblance to the broken figure I remember.
His stride carries confidence, shoulders squared instead of hunched, and the bruises have faded to faint yellows that his tan almost hides.
He spots me and changes course. “Leif! I’m glad I caught you before you boarded.”
Emily follows a few paces behind, her silver hair catching the sunlight. She offers a small wave but hangs back, giving us space.
“Morning,” I reply, shifting my weight as Jared approaches. “Are you starting up work again?”
“Yep. Ribs are mostly all healed up.” He stops in front of me, hands sliding into his pockets. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for reporting the attack and giving the police what they needed to find those guys.”
Heat creeps up my neck, uncomfortable with the praise. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do, though.” Jared stands unwavering, not letting me brush it aside. “If you hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve gotten away with it. I wasn’t in the right headspace to choose anything sensible.”
My mind flashes to the three men who cornered him, the same ones who had surrounded me on my first day in town. If Emily hadn’t stepped in then, I have no doubt I would have been another of their victims. But she wasn’t there for Jared that night. No one was, except me, passing by pure chance.
“Those men,” I begin, then stop myself. This isn’t about me. “I’m glad they’re facing consequences.”
“Detective Merrin said you gave them plate numbers and descriptions.” Jared rocks back on his heels. “Even had a hunch where to look.”
I trace the lid of my coffee cup with my thumb. “I saw them around town a few times. They have a pattern.”
What I don’t say is how I memorized their faces, their vehicles, and their routines, the way Omegas learn to track potential threats without conscious thought. How I’d cataloged the places they frequented, the times they appeared, all to ensure I could avoid them.
“The DA’s charging them with multiple counts,” Jared continues. “Turns out I wasn’t the only one they targeted.”
“I’m not surprised.” I take another sip of coffee to hide my expression.
Jared shifts his stance, blocking the morning sun. “I just wanted to say thank you. For doing what you did.”
I rub the back of my neck, skin prickling with embarrassment. “I just did what anyone should’ve done.”
“Maybe, but not everyone would’ve.” He shakes his head, a rueful smile tugging at his mouth. “Most people in this town were happy to believe the worst about me based on a doctored video. You barely knew me, and you still stepped up.”
The distant horn of the approaching water taxi echoes across the harbor, followed by the rumble of its engine.
“I know what it’s like,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can reconsider. “To be judged on assumptions.”
Understanding passes between us, a current of shared experience that needs no elaboration.
Jared extends his hand. “Well, you have my appreciation. I won’t forget it.”
His palm rests warm against mine, his grip firm but not crushing. An Alpha who doesn’t need to prove his strength. The handshake lasts only a moment before he releases me, but a shift takes place in that brief contact. Not friendship, not yet, but a mutual recognition.
The water taxi blares its horn as it steers toward the dock, its wake spreading in a V behind it. Other passengers begin to gather, resort staff and construction workers clustering at the boarding point.
As Jared turns toward the arriving boat, his collar shifts with the movement. The fabric gapes just enough to reveal a distinct reddish mark at the curve of his neck. A bite.
My breath stutters for a beat, the sight hitting harder than I expect. I force the reaction down, tightening my grip on the coffee cup until the cardboard gives under my fingers and the taste turns bitter on my tongue.
The mark sits where neck and shoulder meet, still fresh enough to stand out against his skin. Not a claiming Mark, but intimate nonetheless. A physical manifestation of belonging.
Of connection.
My fingers tighten around my cup, the cardboard crinkling under the pressure. The reaction confuses me. It’s not jealousy. Not exactly. More like recognition of a truth forever beyond my reach. The ease with which some people find their person, their pack, their place in the world.
Jared tugs his collar higher, though whether conscious of my notice or from the morning chill, I can’t tell.
“I should help Kyle with the lines,” he says, pulling me back from my thoughts. He takes a step back. “Thanks again, Leif. I mean it.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady.
Jared turns away, jogging down the dock toward the approaching taxi.
Emily steps forward as Jared leaves, closing the distance between us. She wears a faded flannel shirt over a tank top, tool belt slung low on her hips. The scent of crushed clover and warm flannel reaches me on the breeze, distinctly Alpha but without the aggressive edge many carry.
“I wanted to thank you, too,” she says, her gray eyes meeting mine. “For stepping in to help him. You probably saved his life.”
My cheeks warm under her sincerity, and I tell her the same thing I told Jared. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“No.” She shakes her head, silver hair catching the light. “What you did was brave. Don’t discount the good you put out in the world.”
She reaches into her work bag, and her hand emerges cradling a cloth-wrapped bundle. The fabric looks soft, a bandana, perhaps, or a scrap of old T-shirt.
“I meant to get this back to you sooner.” Her fingers work at the knot, unwrapping the bundle with careful movements. “Took longer than I planned with all the…delays.”
The cloth falls away, revealing the wooden dragon, and my throat tightens at the sight of it. The broken wing has been restored, the fracture line almost invisible. The wood gleams with fresh polish, bringing out the rich grain patterns that wind through the figure.
“You fixed it,” I manage, the words coming out softer than intended.
Emily places it in my palm, her calloused fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment.
The dragon feels solid, whole again in a way I hadn’t expected.
When I’d handed her the broken toy, I’d assumed she might glue it back together, leaving visible scars where it had fractured.
But this repair is flawless, the wing seamlessly reattached.
“That was the easy part,” Emily says, her smile widening. “Jared helped, too.”
“Quinn will be happy to see it again.” I turn the figure in my hands, catching how the light plays across its curves and angles. “My grandfather taught woodcarving at the community college for thirty years. I always wished I’d inherited his talent.”
Emily watches me examine the piece. “You never picked it up?”
I shake my head, a familiar regret rising. “No one in my family was skilled in fixing things. My mother said my hands were meant for books, not tools.”
“It’s never too late to learn.” She grips the strap of her work bag. “Everyone starts somewhere.”
I trace the mended seam. “How did you get the break to disappear like this?”
Emily lights up with the question, her passion evident. “That’s all in the preparation. You have to clean the break and match the grain before applying the adhesive. After it sets, sand it down gradually, working through finer and finer grits until the transition is seamless.”
Her hands move as she speaks, mimicking the motions of sanding. The skill in those hands strikes me, how they can build structures strong enough to withstand storms, yet delicate enough to restore a tiny wooden wing.
“I could show you a few tips and tricks,” she offers, catching my interest. “Basic repairs aren’t difficult once you know the principles.”
“Yeah?” The word comes out eager, childlike in its enthusiasm.
“Yeah. It’s all about patience. Taking time with each step.” She gestures toward the dragon. “No different than what you do with Quinn, really. Building foundations, one piece at a time.”
Down the dock, Jared helps his cousin secure the water taxi, passengers already lining up to board.
Emily’s tone softens. “You should come by sometime. We—”
The buzz of my phone interrupts her. I pull it from my pocket, expecting another message from Quinn’s uncles about tutoring schedules or meal preferences.
The notification banner freezes the air in my lungs:
Faculty Summit Announcement
Pacific Northwest Education Alliance, Hosted by Pinecrest Academy.
The harbor noise fades, replaced by the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles whitening. The private school in town, hosting educators from across the region.
Hosting Carson.
“Sorry. Work thing.” I swipe away the alert and shove the phone into my pocket. “I’m going to be busy for a while.”
Emily studies me, her gray eyes narrowing. I force my face to remain neutral, though my heart hammers with such force I wonder if she can hear it. Alphas have keen senses. Can she pick up on the sudden fear prickling across my skin?
“Another time, then,” she says easily enough.
The care behind her restraint only tightens the knot in my stomach. People like Emily and Jared don’t deserve to end up tangled in the fallout of what I’ve done.
Emily adjusts the strap of her bag across her body. “See you around.”
She turns and heads down the dock to board the water taxi, her boots echoing solidly on the planks. Sunlight catches in her silver hair, transforming it into a beacon that grows smaller as she walks away.
I watch her go, the dragon clutched in my hand, while the notification sits heavy in my mind. Carson in Pinecrest. Carson walking these same streets, breathing the same air.
Carson finding me.
The morning continues its rhythm around me, oblivious to my internal collapse.
I force my lungs to expand, to draw in the salt-laden air. A fisherman passes, nets slung over his shoulder, nodding a greeting I barely manage to return.
How many weeks have I spent building this new life? Constructing careful boundaries between then and now, there and here?
My thumb traces the dragon’s repaired wing, searching for the break and wondering if all mended things carry the memory of being broken.
What I have now, all of it, is threatened by a single faculty summit.
I stand rooted, counting the steps to the boat versus those it would take to reach my car, drive back to my hotel room, and pack my meager possessions.
To run.
Again.
The End…For Now.
Continue the Pack Alphas of Pinecrest Harbor series, and see what happens when a standoffish Omega must face the Alpha who once hurt him and the one who might change everything.
Knot Her Omega