I froze. He must have seen everything. Must have seen me snarl like a wild animal at a man who'd just been trying to help. His dark eyes were fixed on me, his expression unreadable, his broad shoulders filling the doorway and blocking the exit. The silver at his temples caught the light, and his weathered face gave nothing away.
This was it. This was the moment he told me to pack my things and leave.
"Dan." Reid's voice was calm, steady, carrying easily across the barn without him having to raise it. He didn't look away fromme as he spoke, those dark eyes holding mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His arms hung loose at his sides, his stance relaxed, but there was authority in every line of his body. "You okay?"
Dan. That was his name. The Beta I'd just terrified.
"Yeah, I—yeah." Dan's voice was still shaky, wavering slightly, but he was recovering. I heard him swallow hard, heard the way his breath was still coming too fast. Color was starting to return to his face, though his hands were still raised slightly, like he wasn't quite ready to let his guard down. "She just startled me. I shouldn't have grabbed her like that. My fault."
His fault. He was taking the blame, even though I was the one who'd growled at him like a rabid dog.
"Good." Reid nodded once, a short jerk of his chin that carried the weight of dismissal and approval all at once. His voice was measured, unhurried, like nothing unusual had happened, like feral Omegas snarled at his workers every day. "Take fifteen, all of you. There's coffee in the main house." He paused, his dark eyes still fixed on me, steady and unblinking. "Aster. Walk with me."
It wasn't a request. His voice was soft, but the words carried the unmistakable weight of an Alpha's authority—not demanding, not aggressive, but certain. Absolute.
The other workers filed out, giving me a wide berth, their footsteps quick and eager to escape. Dan shot me one last look as he passed—not angry, I realized with surprise, just wary. His brow was furrowed with something that might have been concern rather than fear. Carla hesitated at the doorway like she wanted to say something, her mouth opening and closing, then seemed to think better of it and followed the others.
Then it was just me and Reid, alone in the storage barn with the dust motes floating in the shafts of light and the smell of fresh hay thick in the air. I couldn't look at him. Couldn't lift myeyes from the concrete floor, from the scattered bits of hay and the scuff marks left by boots. My hands were still shaking, my breath coming too fast.
"I'll pack my things." The words came out barely above a whisper, rough and broken, scraping against my throat like shards of glass. My voice cracked on the last word, my chest too tight to force out anything more. "I'm sorry. I know I should have—I tried to control it, I just?—"
"Aster." Reid's voice was soft, gentle in a way I hadn't expected. I heard him move—slow, deliberate footsteps, the same careful approach Nolan had used that first day in the stable. His boots crunched against scattered bits of hay on the concrete, each step measured and unhurried. "Look at me."
I couldn't. I couldn't look at him and see the disgust, the fear, the realization that he'd made a mistake hiring me.
"Please." The word was quiet, patient, carrying none of the Alpha authority he could have used. His voice was soft, almost tender, a request rather than a command. He'd stopped moving, standing a few feet away, giving me space.
Something about that—the please, the lack of force behind it—made me lift my head.
Reid was standing close but not crowding, his hands loose at his sides, his posture deliberately non-threatening. The afternoon light caught the silver threading through his black hair, highlighted the lines around his dark eyes—lines from squinting into the sun, from years of hard work and harder decisions. He didn't look disgusted. He didn't look afraid.
He looked... sad.
"You're not fired." He said it simply, matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather or telling me what time dinner was served. His dark eyes held mine, steady and calm, his voice soft but certain. His expression didn't waver, didn't shift—justthat same patient steadiness. "You're not in trouble. You didn't do anything wrong."
I stared at him. The words didn't make sense. They didn't fit with anything I knew about how the world worked.
"I growled at him." My voice came out strangled, disbelieving, the words scraping against my throat. I could feel my eyes going wide, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I bared my teeth. Like an animal. You saw?—"
"I saw someone react to an unexpected touch." Reid's voice was still calm, still gentle, but there was something fierce underneath it now—something protective that made his words ring with conviction. His jaw tightened slightly, a muscle flexing beneath his weathered skin, and his dark eyes blazed with an intensity that stole my breath. "Someone who's had to protect herself for a long time. Someone whose body learned to fight before her mind could catch up." He paused, his gaze searching my face like he was looking for something. "That's not something to be ashamed of, Aster. That's survival."
I didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do with an Alpha who looked at my worst moment and called it survival instead of savagery.
"Dan shouldn't have touched you without warning." Reid's voice hardened slightly, not at me—at the situation. His shoulders squared, his whole posture shifting into something more protective, more Alpha. His hands curled slightly at his sides, not into fists but close, and his scent sharpened with something that smelled like anger held tightly in check. "That's on him. I'll talk to the crew, make sure everyone knows to give you space. It won't happen again."
"It's not his fault." The words came out automatic, defensive, my voice rough and too loud in the quiet barn. I shook my head, my tangled hair falling across my face. "He was just trying tohelp. He didn't know I was—" I stopped, swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. "He didn't know I was broken."
"You're not broken." Reid said it with such certainty, such conviction, that I almost believed him. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath catch, his voice low and rough with emotion. He took a step closer, slow and careful, telegraphing the movement, and his scent washed over me—whiskey and woodsmoke, steady and warm and grounding. "You're wounded. There's a difference." Another step, close enough now that I could see the individual threads of silver in his hair, the tiny scars on his hands from years of ranch work, the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "Wounds heal, Aster. Given time. Given safety. Given people who won't hurt you."
My eyes were burning. I blinked hard, fighting against the tears that wanted to fall.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" The question came out rough, almost angry, frustration bleeding through the cracks in my voice. My hands clenched tighter, nails biting into my palms. "I just proved I'm exactly what everyone thinks feral Omegas are. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Why would you want someone like that on your ranch?"
Reid was quiet for a moment, considering the question. His dark eyes never left mine, steady and patient, his expression thoughtful. I watched his jaw work slightly, like he was choosing his words carefully.
"Because I've been where you are." His voice was soft, barely above a murmur, carrying a weight that made my breath catch. His expression shifted, something old and painful flickering behind his eyes, and for just a moment he looked younger, vulnerable—like the walls he'd built had cracked just enough to let me see through. "Not the same situation, but the same feeling. The same certainty that you're too broken to be worth anything. The same expectation that everyone's going to leavewhen they see the real you." He paused, his jaw working slightly, swallowing something down. His voice dropped even lower, rougher. "Someone gave me a chance when I didn't deserve it. Saw something in me when I couldn't see it in myself. I'm just trying to do the same."
I didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to process the idea that Reid—steady, solid, in-control Reid—had ever felt anything like what I felt.
