"Whatever's coming, we face it together." His words were simple, certain, carrying the weight of an absolute promise. His scent wrapped around me—whiskey and woodsmoke, solid as stone—and his large hand came to rest on the table near mine, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the warmthradiating from his skin. "You're not alone anymore, Aster. You don't have to be afraid by yourself."
I looked around the kitchen at the four of them—Reid's steady calm, Nolan's gentle patience, Kol's eager devotion, Sawyer's quiet intensity. Four Alphas who had noticed things about my body before I had, who had controlled their instincts instead of acting on them, who were promising me choices and patience and safety in a world that had never offered me any of those things.
My scent was changing. My body was healing. My biology was waking up after thirteen years of forced sleep, and I had no idea what was coming next.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't facing it alone. I was still scared. Maybe I would always be a little scared—that was what a lifetime of running did to a person. But underneath the fear, buried deep but growing stronger by the day, there was something else.
Hope.
Maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ASTER
Reid found me in the stable with Hope.
It had become my morning ritual now—after breakfast, after Nolan's rounds, I'd slip away to spend time with the filly who'd somehow become mine. She was growing stronger every day, her coat glossy, her eyes bright, and she'd started recognizing my scent, nickering softly when I approached her stall.
I was brushing her when I heard his footsteps—steady, unhurried, unmistakably Reid. His scent reached me before he did, whiskey and woodsmoke rolling through the stable like fog, and I felt my body respond before my mind caught up. Shoulders dropping. Breathing slowing. That anxious thing in my chest going quiet the way it always did around him.
"She's looking good." His voice was a low rumble behind me, and I turned to find him leaning against the stall door, arms crossed over his broad chest, dark eyes warm as they moved between me and Hope. He was dressed for work—worn jeans, a flannel stretched across his shoulders, boots scuffed with yearsof use—but there was something different about his posture today. Something almost... nervous.
"She is." I ran my hand down Hope's neck, feeling the silk of her coat beneath my palm, grounding myself. My heart had started beating faster the moment I'd sensed him, and I didn't know what to do with that. "Nolan says she's ahead of schedule. Strong for her age."
"Gets it from her mother." Reid's voice was soft, fond, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he watched the filly. His gaze shifted to me, something flickering in its depths—hesitation, maybe, or hope. His jaw tightened briefly, like he was steeling himself for something. "I was wondering if you'd want to take a ride with me today. See the rest of the property."
The invitation hung in the air between us, weighted with more than its simple words.
"A ride?" My voice came out uncertain, my hand stilling on Hope's neck. I turned to face him fully, searching his weathered face for some indication of what this meant. "Like... on horses?"
"That's usually how it works." A ghost of a smile crossed his face, softening the hard lines of his jaw, making him look almost boyish despite the silver at his temples. He pushed off from the stall door and took a step closer, his scent wrapping around me more fully, whiskey and woodsmoke and something deeper—something that made my knees feel weak. "I thought you might like to see what you're getting into. This place, I mean. What it is. What it means."
What you're getting into. The words echoed in my head, heavy with implication.
"Okay." The word came out before I could overthink it, small and slightly breathless. I felt heat climb my cheeks at my own eagerness, ducked my head to hide it. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Reid's smile widened, just slightly, a warmth blooming in his dark eyes that made my chest ache.
"Good." His voice was rough with something that sounded like relief, like he'd been bracing for rejection. He nodded toward the far end of the stable, where the tack room was. "I'll get the horses ready. Meet me out front in ten minutes."
Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the stable aisle, and I was left leaning against Hope's stall with my heart pounding and my hands trembling and something that felt dangerously like anticipation unfurling in my chest.
The horse Reid had chosen for me was a gentle bay mare named Copper, with kind eyes and a calm disposition that suggested she'd been selected specifically for a nervous rider. Reid himself was mounted on a massive black gelding called Thunder, whose name seemed entirely too apt—the horse was huge, powerful, moving with a barely contained energy that matched his rider.
"You've ridden before?" Reid's voice carried across the space between us as we walked the horses out of the yard, his dark eyes assessing my posture in the saddle, the way I held the reins. His broad shoulders were relaxed, his seat easy and natural, like he'd been born on horseback.
"A little." I adjusted my grip on the reins, trying to look more confident than I felt. Copper was patient beneath me, her ears flicking back at my voice, and I forced myself to relax into the saddle. "A few of the farms I worked at had horses. I learned enough to get by."
"You're doing fine." Reid's voice was warm, reassuring, and when I glanced over I found him watching me with something like approval in his dark gaze. He guided Thunder alongside Copper with a subtle shift of his weight, bringing us close enough that our legs almost brushed. "Just follow my lead. Copper knows the way."
We rode in comfortable silence for a while, the horses picking their way along a well-worn trail that led away from the mainbuildings and out into the open land. The ranch spread out around us in shades of gold and green—rolling pastures dotted with cattle, and another area where there were a couple highland cows, stands of trees casting long shadows in the morning light, fences stretching toward the distant mountains like fingers reaching for the sky.
It was beautiful. Vast and wild and breathtaking in a way that made my chest tight with something I couldn't name.
"How much land is this?" My voice came out hushed, almost reverent, as I took in the scope of what surrounded us. The morning sun was warm on my face, the breeze carrying the scent of grass and horses and Reid's distinctive whiskey-and-woodsmoke, and I felt something in me settling that I hadn't known was unsettled.
"About eight hundred acres." Reid's voice was quiet, thoughtful, carrying a weight that sounded like both pride and burden. He was looking out at the land with an expression I couldn't quite read—love, maybe, or responsibility, or some combination of both that had long since tangled together into something inseparable. "Give or take. It was bigger once, before my father had to sell off sections to cover his debts."
