"Because what you need matters more than what we want." The words came out low and rough, scraping against something raw in his throat. His dark eyes glistened, and I realized with a shock that he was fighting his own emotions, holding them back with the same iron control he applied to everything else. "Because if you can't choose us freely, then having you wouldn'tmean anything. You're not something to be taken, Aster. You're someone to be chosen. And that choice has to be yours."
I stood there, shaking, tears still streaming down my face, feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down into something vast and terrifying and beautiful.
The Alphas. All four of them. They wanted me. Not for what I could do for them, not for what they could take from me, but... just me. The broken, feral girl who'd stumbled onto their ranch with nothing but a backpack and a desperate hope that maybe this time things would be different.
They'd been watching. Noticing. Collecting little pieces of who she was like treasures they were saving for this moment.
"I need time." The words came out rough, unsteady, but stronger than I expected. I looked up at Reid, meeting his dark eyes, and something in my chest shifted—not breaking, but opening. Like a door that had been locked for years finally creaking open. "I can't—I can't give you an answer right now. It's too much. I need to think."
Reid nodded, a single dip of his chin that carried more weight than a thousand words. His expression was patient, understanding, and there was something in his eyes that looked almost like pride.
"Take all the time you need." His voice was soft, steady, carrying the warmth of an unspoken promise. He took a step back, giving me space, his hands sliding into his pockets in a deliberately casual gesture. His dark eyes held hers with gentle intensity. "There's no deadline, Aster. No pressure. When you're ready—if you're ever ready—we'll be here."
I nodded, not trusting my voice to work properly. My hand came up to wipe at my tear-stained cheeks, the gesture rough and impatient. Reid turned to go, his boots scuffing against the straw-covered floor. He paused at the stall door, one hand on the frame, and looked back at me over his shoulder.
"For what it's worth—" His voice was low, rough with emotion, his dark eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. His profile was sharp against the fading light, all strong jaw and silver-threaded hair and patient, steady presence. "We've been waiting a long time for you. However long you need to decide... we can wait a little longer."
Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the stable aisle, leaving me alone with Bella and Hope and the weight of everything he'd just said.
I sank down into the straw, my back against the wall, and let myself cry.
I didn't sleep that night.
I lay in my narrow bunk, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing through everything Reid had said. Not just the offer—though that was overwhelming enough—but everything else. The details. The observations. The proof that they'd been paying attention in ways I hadn't even noticed.
Nolan had seen me put myself between him and Bella. Sawyer had noticed how I anticipated what he needed during the birth. Kol had registered that I gave him a second chance when most people wouldn't. Reid had watched me for three days straight, had seen the hope and fear warring on my face.
They knew I talked to the horses. They knew I named the filly Hope. They knew I checked exits and flinched at sudden touches and was terrified of kindness. They knew me. Not everything—not the ugly parts, the shameful parts, the parts I kept locked away even from myself—but they knew the person I was trying to become. And they wanted her anyway.
The thought was terrifying. Overwhelming. Too big to fit inside my chest. Underneath the fear, underneath the panic andthe doubt and the voice in my head screaming that this was a trap, that it had to be a trap...
Underneath all of that, there was something else.
Hope.
The same thing I'd named the filly. The same thing I'd spent nine years trying to crush before it could take root and grow into something that could be ripped away.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, this was real.
I pressed my hands to my face, feeling the tears leak out between my fingers, and wondered if I had any bravery left.
The answer, when it came, surprised me.
Maybe not bravery. But something close to it.
Something that looked a lot like hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ASTER
Three days.
I gave myself three days to think about it. Three days of mucking stalls with Sawyer in silence, of avoiding Reid's eyes across the yard, of lying awake at night staring at the ceiling and trying to sort through the chaos in my head.
Three days of feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to decide if I should jump.
The Alphas gave me space. They didn't push, didn't hover, didn't ask questions or drop hints or do any of the things I expected them to do. Reid nodded at me when we passed each other, calm and patient as always. Nolan stopped by the stable to check on Hope, but he kept his distance, kept his conversation to the horses. Kol waved from across the yard, bright and friendly, but he didn't approach. Even Sawyer, who I saw every morning, didn't say a word about it—just handed me a pitchfork and worked beside me in comfortable silence.
