Chapter 25 Nacho
NACHO
The meat section of Largo Waters General Store smells like refrigeration and plastic wrap.
I'm standing in front of the steaks, trying to decide between ribeye and New York strip, when I hear raised voices from the next aisle over.
Not unusual. Mrs. Joans and her sister get into it at least once a week over which brand of coffee is superior. Mr. Garrett likes to argue with the produce clerk about tomato prices. Small town grocery stores are surprisingly dramatic.
But this voice makes every hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Male. Smooth. Charming in that practiced way that sets my teeth on edge.
I know that voice.
I move toward the end of the aisle, steaks forgotten, and peer around the corner into the dairy section.
Jessica.
She's standing by the refrigerated cases, gripping her shopping cart like it's a life raft. Her knuckles are white. Her whole body is tense, shoulders drawn up, spine pressed against the cold glass.
And standing three feet away, moving closer with each word, is Callum.
My blood goes ice cold.
He's wearing what I think of as his "I'm important" costume. Designer jeans, cashmere sweater, expensive coat. His hair is perfect despite the November wind outside. He looks like a catalog model who wandered into the wrong ZIP code.
He looks like a man who's never heard the word no.
I stay where I am, because I will only intervene if she’s in danger. She has been living with us for three weeks, and I’m falling more in love with her every single day.
Her heat is coming. Pedro confirmed it yesterday. Days, not weeks. Her hormone levels are spiking. The nesting has intensified. She hasn't said what she wants to do when it hits. Hasn't asked for help. Hasn't made any decisions.
And now her nightmare is standing in front of her in the dairy aisle.
“Mom told you.” Jessica's voice carries across the space. Stronger than I expected. Not the small, scared voice I heard when she first moved in.
"'I'm sorry, I can't.'" Callum's tone is mocking. Dismissive. "That's not an explanation.”
Around them, I see other shoppers starting to notice. Mrs. Johnson has stopped pretending to study soup cans. Old Mr. Garrett is leaning on his cane, watching. The produce clerk has abandoned his apple pyramid.
They're all watching.
Good. Witnesses.
"It was all the explanation you deserved." Jessica's chin lifts. Her spine straightens.
That's my girl.
Something flickers in Callum's eyes. Anger. Quick and ugly before the charm smooths it away. "You're right. I know I messed up, Jess. I know I wasn't always the partner you needed. But I've been doing a lot of thinking since you left, and I want to make things right."
The manipulative bastard.
I've seen this move before. The false apology. The "I'm sorry you feel that way" disguised as actual remorse. It's textbook emotional manipulation, and I want to break his perfect teeth for using it on her.
"There's nothing to make right. We're done."
"We're not done." He moves closer. She steps back. Her spine hits the dairy case. “Two years, Jessica. You don't just throw that away."
"I already did." Her hands are shaking on the cart handle. But her voice is steady. "The moment I ran from our wedding.”
His jaw tightens. "You're being dramatic."
There it is. The dismissal. The subtle put-down wrapped in concern.
My hand moves to my holster. Not drawing. Just touching. A reminder that I'm armed and authorized.
"I'm being honest," Jessica says. Her voice is rising. People are definitely staring now. "For the first time in two years. I should have left you a long time ago."
"Because of them?" His voice goes sharp. Cutting. "The Negrorio Pack? Is that what this is about?"
I go still.
"This is about me." The words tumble out of her now, two years of silence breaking open. "About you making me feel like I was too much. Too loud. Too obsessive. About you controlling everything from what I wore to who I talked to to how I organized my goddamn grocery lists."
Pride surges through me. Hot and fierce.
She's not backing down. Not shrinking. Not letting him twist her words or make her doubt herself.
"I was helping you." Callum steps into her space. His scent washes over her, and I see her recoil. See her omega physically pull back from him.
My alpha rises. Growls. Demands I move. Intervene. Protect.
Not yet. She's got this.
"And now you're living with four men?" Callum continues. His voice drips with contempt. "Making a fool of yourself? They're using you, baby. Can't you see that? Taking advantage of a confused omega."
"Don't call me baby." Her voice is flat. Dead. "And don't pretend you care about what's good for me. You only care that you lost control."
His hands clench into fists.
I tense. Ready to move if those fists go anywhere near her.
"You're making a mistake."
"The only mistake I made was staying as long as I did." She pushes her cart forward, forcing him to step aside or be hit. "We're done, Callum. Accept it."
She walks past him.
Three steps.
His hand shoots out and closes around her arm.
I move.
"We're not done here."
His fingers dig into her bicep. Hard enough that she gasps. Hard enough that I can see the pressure points from where I'm standing.
Assault. Clear as day. In front of witnesses.
"Let go of me." Her voice is too high. Panicked.
"Not until you listen."
I'm ten feet away. Moving fast but silent. Years of patrol work taught me how to close distance without being noticed.
"I said let go."
His grip tightens. She tries to pull away. Can't. He's holding her too tight.
Mrs. Johnson's soup can hits the floor with a clatter.
"You're hysterical." Callum's voice is calm. Reasonable. The voice of a man who knows how to perform for an audience. "You need to calm down and think about what you're throwing away. I'm offering you a future, Jessica. Everything you ever wanted."
"You don't know what I want." She's still trying to pull free. "You never did."
"I know you're scared." He leans closer. Too close. Invading her space in a way that makes my vision blur red. "Confused. Those men have filled your head with ideas. But you can't do better than me, baby. We both know you can't."
That's when I see it happen.
The moment she stops being scared and starts being furious.
Her knee comes up hard and fast. Connects with his groin with a satisfying thunk.
Callum releases her with a howl. Doubles over. His hands clutch his crotch. The sound he makes echoes through the store.
Somewhere behind me, someone starts to clap.
"Touch me again," Jessica tells him, voice steady now, "and I'll aim higher."
She grabs her cart and walks toward the checkout.
Callum straightens. Still bent but functional. And the look on his face is pure rage.
"You bitch." The charm is completely gone. This is the real him. The one he keeps hidden under expensive clothes and practiced smiles. "You think those Negrorio bastards will want you when they find out what you really are? A desperate little omega whore who'll spread her legs for—"
I don't let him finish.
Three strides. That's all it takes.
My forearm goes across his throat. I drive him backward until his spine hits the refrigerated meat case. The glass rattles. Steaks shift behind him.
His eyes go wide. Shocked. Like he can't believe this is happening.
"Hi, baby." I keep my voice calm. Eerily calm. The kind of calm that comes before violence. I don't look at Jessica yet. Can't. If I see fear or tears or hurt in her eyes, I'll lose control. "You okay?"
"Where did you come from?" Her voice is shaky but trying for normal.
"Was picking up steaks for dinner." I press a little harder against Callum's throat. Just enough to make breathing difficult. "Heard the commotion."
"I had it handled."
"I know you did." Pride bleeds through despite my effort to stay professional. "That was a nice knee. Very effective."
Callum makes a choking sound. His hands come up, scrabbling at my arm. "Get off me. I'll have your badge for this."
I press harder. "You put your hands on a woman in a public place. I watched you grab her. Watched you refuse to let go when she asked. That's assault. Want to tell me again about having my badge?"
His face is turning red. Can't tell if it's from lack of oxygen or rage.
"She's my fiancée."
"Ex-fiancée." Jessica's voice comes from somewhere to my left. "Emphasis on ex."
"The lady says you're done." I release the pressure slightly. Just enough that he can breathe. "I suggest you accept that and leave town before I find a reason to arrest you."
"Arrest me?" His laugh is strangled. Bitter. "Ignacio, it's me. It's Callum. We've known each other since kindergarten. You taught me to ride a bike. We're best friends.”
"We were." I keep my voice flat. Empty. "Before you decided Jessica was property instead of a person."
"I love her!"
"You broke her." The words come out harder than I intend. "Piece by piece. You took everything bright and special about her and dimmed it until she was small enough to fit your idea of what a woman should be."
Around us, the store has gone completely silent. Everyone watching. Everyone listening.
Good. Let them see who Callum really is.
"That's ridiculous." But his voice wavers. "I loved her exactly as she was."
"No." Jessica steps forward. "You loved the version of me you created. The quiet one. The obedient one. The one who didn't question or challenge or take up space."
She moves closer. Close enough that I can feel her warmth against my side.
"I'm done being that person," she continues. Her voice is shaking but getting stronger with each word. "I'm done making myself smaller so you can feel bigger. I'm done apologizing for existing."
Callum's expression shifts. The rage smooths away. The charm slides back into place like a mask.
"Baby." The word makes my forearm twitch against his throat. "I know you're upset. I know I made mistakes. But we can fix this. We can go to counseling. I can change. Just come home with me and we'll work it out."