Silence. The three of them exchanged glances—wary, assessing, none of them wanting to speak first. The tension stretched like a rubber band about to snap.
"I was trying to protect you. From the developers. From whatever threat they posed. I know that's not—I know I should have told you. I just..." Harper finally said, his voice rough as gravel, his massive hands gripping his whiskey glass so hard I half-expected it to shatter. He trailed off, jaw working like he was chewing on words he couldn't quite spit out.
"You just what?" I pressed, keeping my voice level even as I leaned closer.
"I didn't know how. I'm not good with words. With people. I thought if I could fix the problem, handle it before it became something you had to worry about... Stupid. I know it was stupid." The words came out like they'd been dragged from somewhere deep inside him, each one costing him something, and his knuckles had gone white around the glass as he shook his head slowly, unable to meet my eyes.
"It was. What about you?" I agreed, but I kept my voice gentle, softening the judgment with understanding as I turned to Remy.
"Same story, different packaging. I found the stakes, recognized the threat, started checking your property lines. Told myself I was being helpful. Truth is, I was scared to face you. After what happened at the Hook—after you saw through all my bullshit—I didn't know how to..." He tried for a charming smile, but it crumpled before it could fully form, and his accent had thickened the way it did when he was being real instead of performing. He gestured vaguely, the motion frustrated and incomplete.
"How to what?" I asked, my voice softer now.
"How to be real with you. You asked me to show you the real me, and I was too much of a coward to do it. So I watched from a distance instead. Like that was somehow better. It wasn't." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, losing the last traces of charm, and a bitter laugh escaped him as he stared into his glass like it held answers he couldn't find anywhere else.
I turned to Silas last. He'd been silent through the others' explanations, his expression unreadable as stone.
"And you?" I asked softly, letting the question hang in the air between us.
"I don't have a different answer. I watched because I didn't know how to approach. Because you looked at me like I was a person, and I didn't know what to do with that. I'm not good at being human. I'm better at surveillance. So that's what I did." His voice was flat and controlled, almost mechanical, but his pale eyes met mine without flinching from the admission, and I saw something vulnerable lurking in those silver depths—something that wanted to be seen even as it expected rejection.
The honesty of it—from all three of them—settled something in my chest. They'd screwed up. All of them. Made decisions about my life without consulting me, treated me like something to be protected rather than someone to be talked to.
It was infuriating. It was also, in its own twisted way, kind of sweet.
"You're all idiots. You know that, right? Absolute disasters, the lot of you." I said finally, letting a hint of warmth creep into my voice despite my best efforts to stay stern, shaking my head slowly as I looked at each of their faces—Harper's guarded hope, Remy's nervous relief, Silas's careful stillness.
"We're aware." Remy said dryly, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as the corner of his mouth quirked up in something approaching genuine humor.
A grunt from Harper. A tiny nod from Silas.
"So here's what's going to happen. No more watching from the shadows. No more making decisions about my safety without talking to me first. You want to protect me? Fine. But you do it with me, not for me. I'm not some damsel in a tower. I've been taking care of myself and this land since my aunt died. I don't need saving. What I need is information. Allies. People who will tell me the truth, even when it's hard." I sat back and looked at each of them in turn, letting the words sink in, my voice carrying the weight of authority that came from being in my own territory. I held up a finger when Harper openedhis mouth, cutting off whatever apologetic protest was forming behind his eyes.
"We can do that." Harper said quietly, his voice rough with something that might have been gratitude, and the other two nodded in silent agreement.
"Good. Now. Tell me everything you know about Crescent Holdings." I picked up my whiskey and took a long sip, the burn warming my chest, and settled back in my chair to listen.
The next hour was actually productive. Harper had done the most research—he'd been asking questions around town, tracking the company's other acquisitions, building a picture of their strategy. Remy had connections through his music scene that had given him intel on which local officials might be in the developers' pockets. Silas had mapped their survey patterns, identified their weak points, assessed the legal boundaries of their claims.
Together, the three of them had gathered more information than I'd managed in weeks of worrying on my own.
"They're targeting properties along the waterfront. Yours is right in the middle of the area they want. If they can't buy you out, they'll try to pressure you. Make the land worthless until you have no choice but to sell." Harper spread a hand-drawn map on the porch table, his thick fingers—surprisingly gentle—tracing the lines he'd sketched, his voice low and steady now that he had facts to relay instead of emotions to navigate.
"How do we stop them?" I leaned forward, studying the map, my shoulder almost brushing Harper's arm.
"We don't let them. We make it clear that this property is protected. That they'll face opposition if they push." Silas said flatly, his pale eyes gleaming in the fading light with something that might have been anticipation, his voice carrying the certainty of someone who'd planned operations with far higher stakes.
"Opposition how? We can't exactly threaten a corporation." Remy raised an eyebrow, drumming his fingers against his thigh in a nervous rhythm that betrayed his casual tone.
"Legal opposition. My family's been here for generations. So has yours. We have standing. Connections. Resources they might not expect." Harper said, nodding at Remy as he tapped the map with one thick finger, his voice gaining confidence as the conversation shifted to practical matters.
"I know lawyers. Some of them actually like me. I can make calls." Remy admitted, already pulling out his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen with sudden purpose.
"I know the land. Every inch of it. I can make their surveys... difficult." Silas added, and something almost like a smile flickered across his usually blank face—there and gone so fast I might have imagined it, but carrying a hint of dark satisfaction.
I looked at the three of them—these broken, stubborn, infuriating Alphas who'd been circling me for weeks. They weren't perfect. They'd screwed up in about a dozen different ways. They couldn't even sit on the same porch without the air crackling with tension.
Something warm bloomed in my chest anyway.
