More footsteps in the aisle, heavier this time. I looked up to see the auburn-haired Alpha from the yard, standing in the stall doorway with Reid right behind him. Reid's black hair was disheveled, silver catching the light at his temples, and his dark eyes swept over the scene—Bella on the ground, Nolan working, me kneeling in the straw with tears I hadn't realized I was crying streaking down my face.
"Sawyer, get the foaling kit from the tack room." Reid's voice was calm, commanding, the voice of a man used to crisis. No panic, no wasted words—just clear, efficient direction. He stepped into the stall, moving to Bella's head with long strides, his broad hand coming to rest on her neck beside mine. His fingers brushed against my knuckles, warm and steadying. "Aster, you're doing fine. Just keep talking to her."
Sawyer. The auburn-haired Alpha had a name. He was gone before I could process it, his footsteps retreating down the aisle at a jog, quick and efficient.
I kept talking. Kept stroking Bella's neck, kept murmuring nonsense words in a voice that shook and cracked. Reid was there beside me, solid and steady as a mountain, his scent mixing with Nolan's and wrapping around me like a blanket. Whiskey and eucalyptus. Woodsmoke and honey. Safety and healing.
"Foal's turned wrong." Nolan's voice was tight, focused, his brow furrowed with concentration. His green eyes were intent on something I couldn't see, his hands working beneath Bella's tail. "I need to reposition. Sawyer?—"
"Here." The word was short, clipped, and then Sawyer was back, dropping a large canvas bag beside Nolan and moving to Bella's hindquarters without being told. His movements were efficient, practiced—he'd done this before, probably dozens of times. His pale blue eyes were intent on the task, his strong hands steadying the mare's legs as Nolan worked.
What followed was a blur of tension and sweat and Nolan's calm voice giving instructions. Sawyer held Bella steady while Nolan worked, his hands disappearing to do something I couldn't see and didn't want to imagine. Reid stayed at the mare's head with me, his deep voice a low rumble of comfort that seemed to ease something in Bella's panicked eyes.
I lost track of time. Lost track of everything except the feel of Bella's neck beneath my hand, the sound of Nolan's steady instructions, the warmth of Reid beside me and the knowledge that Sawyer was there too, all of them working together to save this horse and her foal.
Then, suddenly, it was over.
A wet, dark shape slid into the straw, and Nolan let out a breath that sounded like pure relief.
"There we go." His voice was soft, wonder creeping into it despite his obvious exhaustion. His green eyes were bright, almost glowing in the dim stable light, and a smile broke across his face—the first real smile I'd seen from him all morning. "There she is."
She. A filly. I watched, barely breathing, as Nolan cleared the membrane from the foal's face with gentle, practiced hands. Tiny nostrils flared and took a first gasping breath. Impossibly long legs twitched in the straw, uncoordinated and new to the world.
"She's beautiful." The words came out of me without permission, raw and awed, my voice barely above a whisper.
"She is." Reid's voice was warm beside me, and when I looked up, he was smiling—a real smile, soft and unguarded, that transformed his weathered face into something almost gentle. The hard lines around his eyes had softened, and there was light in his dark gaze that I'd never seen before. His eyes met mine, and something passed between us. Shared relief. Shared joy. Shared wonder at this tiny new life.
Bella lifted her head, nickering softly at the foal, and began to clean her with long, careful strokes of her tongue. Mother and daughter, meeting for the first time. Something in my chest cracked open at the sight of it—something old and wounded that I'd kept locked away for so long I'd forgotten it was there.
"Good girl." Nolan's voice was tired but satisfied, rough with emotion. He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions. His green eyes were soft as he watched the mare and foal, his whole face relaxed into something like peace. "Good job, Bella. You did so good."
I became aware, suddenly, of how close everyone was. Reid beside me, his shoulder nearly touching mine, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt. Nolan acrossfrom us, his knee bumping against Reid's, close enough that I could smell the sweat and eucalyptus mingling on his skin. And Sawyer—Sawyer was still at Bella's hindquarters, but when I looked up, his pale blue eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
I should have felt cornered. Surrounded by three Alphas in a small space, their scents mingling in the air, their bodies close enough to touch. Every instinct I had should have been screaming at me to run.
Instead, I felt... safe.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I scrambled to my feet, my heart suddenly pounding, my breath coming too fast. The straw crunched beneath my boots as I stumbled backward.
"I should—I need to—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't find words for the panic rising in my chest, the desperate need to get away before this feeling could take root and grow into something I couldn't cut out.
"Aster." Reid's voice was calm, gentle, but I was already moving, backing toward the stall door on legs that shook.
"I'm fine. I just need some air. I'm fine." The words tumbled out, too fast, too desperate. I knew they didn't believe me. I didn't believe me either.
I turned and fled.
The morning air hit my face like a slap, cold and sharp and exactly what I needed. I kept walking, away from the stable, away from the Alphas, away from the impossible feeling of safety that had wrapped around me like a trap.
I ended up behind the equipment shed, my back against the corrugated metal wall, my knees pulled up to my chest. The metal was cold through my shirt, grounding in its discomfort. I was shaking—not from cold, but from something deeper. Something I didn't have a name for.
What was wrong with me?
I'd spent nine years learning that Alphas were dangerous. Learning that safety was an illusion, a trap, a lie people told you before they hurt you. I knew better than to trust, to hope, to let myself feel anything except the bone-deep wariness that had kept me alive this long.
And yet.
And yet I'd knelt in that stall with three Alphas surrounding me, and I'd felt safe. I'd felt like I belonged there. Like that was exactly where I was supposed to be.
