I was passing the main house when I heard voices. Reid's low rumble, Nolan's softer tones, and there—that warm, musical voice that made my skin prickle. I should have kept walking. Should have gone straight to my room, eaten my dinner, gone to sleep. That's what the smart thing would have been. That's what I would have done a week ago, before Bella and Hope, before breakfast burritos and quiet conversations, before I started to wonder if maybe—maybe—these people were different.
Instead, I found myself drifting closer, staying in the shadows of the barn, close enough to hear without being seen. The rational part of my brain screamed at me that this was a bad idea, that eavesdropping never led anywhere good, but my feet wouldn't listen.
"—told you she's skittish." That was Reid, his voice tight with something that might have been frustration. I could picture him in my mind—arms crossed over his broad chest, those dark eyes sharp, the silver at his temples catching the fading light. His tone was firm, the voice of a man who was used to being in charge and didn't appreciate having his instructions ignored.
"I wasn't bouncing." Kol's voice was defensive, higher than before, the words coming out fast and tumbling over each other. I could hear him shifting, restless even in argument, probably unable to stand still. "Okay, maybe I was bouncing a little. Butshe's—Reid, she's—" He stopped, seemed to struggle for words, his voice cracking slightly on the pause.
"We know." Nolan's voice, gentle but firm, cutting through Kol's floundering with quiet authority. His tone was soothing, the same voice he used with nervous animals, but there was steel underneath it. "We all know. But she needs time. She needs to come to us, not the other way around."
"I just wanted to introduce myself." Kol sounded younger now, the bravado stripped away, leaving something raw and vulnerable underneath. His voice had gone small, almost plaintive, the restless energy replaced by something that sounded almost like hurt. "She looked so... lonely. Standing there all by herself with that pitchfork like she was ready to fight off an army. I just wanted her to know that she didn't have to."
My chest tightened. I pressed myself closer to the barn wall, my heart pounding so loud I was afraid they'd hear it. My fingers dug into the rough wood, splinters biting into my skin.
"She was ready to fight off an army." Reid's voice was heavy, weighted with something that sounded like grief. His tone had softened, lost the edge of frustration, replaced by something deeper and sadder. "That's what she's been doing her whole life, from what I can tell. Fighting just to survive." A pause, long and weighted. "We're not going to change that by overwhelming her."
"I wasn't trying to overwhelm her. I was trying to—" Kol stopped, let out a frustrated breath that I could hear even from my hiding spot. His voice was tight with emotion, cracking around the edges. "I don't know what I was trying to do. I saw her and I just... I couldn't help myself. It was like something in me just—" He made a sound of frustration, wordless and raw. "How do you do it? How do you stay so calm around her?"
"I'm not calm." Reid's voice was rough, honest, stripped of pretense. I could hear the rawness in it, the carefully controlledemotion bleeding through. "Every time I see her, every time I catch her scent, everything in me wants to wrap her up and protect her and never let anything hurt her again. But that's not what she needs. What she needs is space. Time. The chance to decide for herself what she wants."
"What if she decides she doesn't want us?" Kol's voice was small, fragile in a way that didn't match his bright, bouncing energy. The words came out barely above a whisper, vulnerable and afraid.
Silence. Long and heavy. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, loud and fast.
"Then we accept that." Nolan's voice was gentle but certain, soft as velvet but unyielding as steel. His tone carried the weight of a decision already made, a line already drawn. "We let her go. Because what she needs matters more than what we want."
"That's—" Kol's voice cracked, broke on the word. I heard him swallow hard. "That's really hard."
"Yeah." Reid's voice was rough with emotion I couldn't name, heavy and thick. I could hear the strain in it, the effort it took to keep his voice steady. "It is. But she's worth it. Whatever happens, however this turns out—she's worth waiting for."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything except stand there in the shadows, my back pressed against the rough wood of the barn, my heart cracking open in my chest. They were talking about me. All of them. Like I mattered. Like what I needed was more important than what they wanted. Like I was something precious instead of something broken.
I'd never—no one had ever?—
I pushed off from the wall and walked away on legs that shook. I didn't run this time. Didn't flee. Just walked, steady and deliberate, back to the bunkhouse, back to my narrow bed, back to the safety of four walls and a locked door. My handswere trembling as I turned the lock, and I stood there for a long moment with my back against the door, just breathing.
I lay there in the dark for a long time, staring at the ceiling, replaying their words in my head.
We let her go. Because what she needs matters more than what we want.
She's worth waiting for.
Four Alphas. Four Alphas who looked at me like I was precious. Who gave me space. Who talked about me when I wasn't there, not with hunger or possession, but with something that sounded terrifyingly like care.
Reid with his calm patience and his heavy sense of responsibility.
Nolan with his gentle hands and his quiet understanding.
Sawyer with his rough silence and his knowing eyes.
And now Kol, with his restless energy and his inability to hide what he was feeling.
I didn't know what to do with any of it. Didn't know how to fit it into my understanding of the world, into the rules I'd built my survival around. I did what I always did. I pushed it down, locked it away, told myself it didn't mean anything. Told myself they were just being nice, just being decent, that it didn't mean what it sounded like it meant.
I almost believed it.
Almost.
CHAPTER EIGHT
