CHAPTER 33
AMOS
“I’m on shift at the fire station tonight,” I say, coming into the kitchen. Wolf is at the stove cooking, yet again, and Finian is at the kitchen table catching up on work.
Wolf turns as he stirs the sauce. “Were you scheduled today?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Catron called in because his little omega is about to give birth. I have to pull his shift tonight and my shift tomorrow.”
“So, you’ll be on for a full twenty-four?" Finian asks, looking up above the rim of his glasses.
“Yeah. If not longer, but I hope not. We’re all really needed here.”
“Finian and I have Windy. We’ll be here if she needs anything,” Wolf exclaims, picking up the salt and dashing some into the sauce.
“What about Luscious?” I grab my things, ready to head out the door. Wolf stops what he’s doing and looks across the kitchen at me with a blank expression.
“Luscious is good. We aren’t having issues there.”
Why do I get the feeling he’s lying?
Wolf doesn’t meet my eyes as he turns back to the stove. He cooks in silence, ignoring Finian and me. Something is clearly going on with him, and I need to figure it out. We don’t need anyone out of sorts while we’re trying to make Windy our mate.
“Alright, guys. I’m out of here,” I say, shouldering my bag and heading out.
I would rather do anything than go to work right now. Being here with Windy has been a dream. I finally feel useful, like I have a reason to exist. For years, I just floated through life. Now, I feel like I’m where I belong.
With her.
With them.
With all of us together forever.
I ease the truck out of her driveway and head out of her subdivision.
I ease the truck down Main Street, the familiar storefronts sliding past my windows in a blur of early-shift quiet.
The sun is barely clearing the seven-eleven, but my mind is already miles away from town.
Back in Windy’s kitchen, her smile was doing wonderful things to my body.
I wish I could show emotion more easily. I’d show her what she does to me. But I feel too much. Every time I’m around her, I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know what to show, so my face goes blank. I know it hurts more than helps, but I’d rather eat crow than risk the wrong expression.
I grew up in a home where love was freely given. It was steady as a heartbeat. My fathers showed me gentle strength. My mother’s care was constant. I loved my childhood. There was no pressure to become someone else. I just had to be a good, happy man—strong without stepping on others.
I followed one of my father’s footsteps and became a firefighter.
I wanted to save lives but not work in an office all day.
I needed to be outside, ready to help people.
I idolized my father’s turnout gear before I understood it.
The smell of smoke, late calls, and his stories made my childhood the best.
By the time I was old enough to choose what I wanted to be, I didn’t hesitate. I became a firefighter a few years before he retired. Father and son were together day in and day out. He taught me everything I know. But now, he spends his days spoiling my mother the way she deserves.
At thirty, I’m the kind of alpha that doesn’t need to posture. I’m steady, grounded, and warm in a way that makes people feel safe when they’re around me. My home life made me who I am. The protection and loving nature of my parents carry me like the gift of life.
That’s what I want to be for Windy. I want to be her rock, her stability when all else feels like it’s jerked out from underneath her. Having us with her will hopefully give her the strength to get through anything.
I pull up to the red light, and my hand twitches on the steering wheel.
The item in my pocket is burning a hole in it.
It’s ridiculous. I just left her house twenty minutes ago, tops.
She was fine. My bond brothers were fine.
Everyone was fine. More than fine. But that urge hits me square in the chest anyway.
The need to check my phone and ask if she needs anything is overwhelming.
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as I inwardly wrestle with myself to behave and not bombard them with text messages.
The light flips green. I roll forward, turning onto the street that leads to the station.
Once I pull into the parking lot, I spy the big bay doors wide open, engines lined up like they’re waiting for me to enter.
I pull into my spot and kill the engine.
I sit there for a beat, contemplating. Each second I look at that door, the more I feel like putting the truck in reverse and going back home.
My phone burns in my pocket. I can practically feel the urge burrowing deep inside of me, driving me crazy.
“Man up,” I mutter, dragging in a breath.
Shutting my eyes, I try to get myself calm enough to head in.
It takes several minutes before I’m ready to get out of the truck and get this day over with.
I step into the cold morning air. The scent of diesel, stale coffee, and the musk of yesterday’s fire calls hit my senses.
It’s home in its own way. At least, it was until Windy came into the picture.
Now, though, it feels like the thing that’s taking me away from the person I want to be with most in this world.
I grab my gear bag and slam the door behind me.
I nod at my coworkers already milling around.
They acknowledge me, but don’t come any closer.
It’s a good thing, too. I’m teetering on the edge of losing it.
Being away from Windy is slowly getting to me, and I’ve only been gone for nearly half an hour.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive an entire day away from my pack.
I’m half tempted to sneak a quick look at my phone. Half fighting the urge to succumb to the need to know exactly what she’s doing. But my shift is starting, and I need to focus, even if she is the only thing on my mind I care about at this moment.
As I step into the fire station, the first thing I see is that little omega in the office.
The Captain is behind her, pulling her hair over her shoulder, pressing kisses along her throat.
But the moment she sees me, she nonchalantly slips away from him under the guise that she needs to get some work done, if going to her computer is any indication.
I roll my eyes and move toward my locker.
I’m just getting it open when the signal hits like a hammer.
It’s sharp, bouncing off the concrete walls of the bay.
I freeze for half a second before second nature kicks in.
I’m halfway through buttoning up my uniform when it happens, so I speed through it.
The sound vibrates through my body. I shove my feet into my boots and slam the door to my locker shut. The station feels louder as every footstep is amplified. The others are moving fast, boots slapping, lockers shutting. My own heartbeat is a drum of adrenaline in my ears.
By the time we’re back from the first call, I’m already tapped out for the day. I’m exhausted, grimy, and covered in soot. Sweat sticks my shirt to my back, and I desperately need a shower to wash off. The day feels heavy, like the air itself knows we’re just beginning.
“Tough day, eh?” Carter, one of my coworkers, asks as he dips into his locker.
I nod, releasing a long, tired breath. “Yeah. I'm ready to go home."
“You're just starting, right?”
“Yeah. I’m here for another eighteen hours.”
He whistles. “Brutal.”
I barely get a sip of water before the next alarm goes off.
Sighing, I growl under my breath, toss my bottle into my locker, and slam the door.
I meet Carter’s eyes, but there’s something inside his gaze that has me twisting to look in the direction he’s looking.
On the screen next to the bay door, the address we’re traveling to pops up.
My breath stops.
I know that street.
“Is that?” I ask, wanting it desperately to be wrong.
Carter slaps me on the back. “We need to go, man.”
My hand goes to my pocket like it’s a second instinct. The phone is so hot it feels alive, like it’s warning me. I yank it out and hit the call button before I can think about protocol or common sense.
It rings once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then chaos.
Screams erupt in my ears. Raw. Panicked. Voices overlap each other. Someone shouting orders. Something crashing. Underneath it all, a deep, hungry roar I recognize instantly.
Fire.
A big one.
“What's going on?!” I yell, running toward the fire truck.
“Luscious is burning!” Wolf roars in anguish. “It's all gone!”
The place is practically a landmark in my mind. It’s been here for years, built from the ground up by Wolf. From memory, I can hear Windy’s laughter resounding off the walls, the scent of sweat, cotton candy, and bad mistakes. Now, all I can picture is smoke and flames swallowing it whole.
Ending the call, I shove the phone back into my pocket. My hands shake as I grab the side of the rig and hop in. The engine rumbles beneath me as I climb in, the cab filling with the strobing red lights. The guys are yelling over each other, but it’s all muffled, distant, like I’m underwater.
All I can hear is his anguished roar.
All I can see Wolf’s face as he watches everything he’s worked for burn to the ground.
Please, god, let everyone be okay.