I looked at the three of them—Harper solid and immovable as a mountain, Silas silent and lethal as a blade, Remy bright and fierce as a flame—and felt something shift in my chest. Something that had been holding itself apart, waiting to see if they were real, if this was real, finally letting go.
"You're pulling up their stakes." I said, my voice softer now, the anger still there but tempered by something warmer.
"Seemed like the thing to do." Remy shrugged one shoulder, a hint of his usual grin returning. "Figured you'd want to burn them later. Make a bonfire. Maybe roast some marshmallows over corporate greed." He waggled his eyebrows, trying to make me smile.
It worked. I felt the corner of my mouth lift despite myself, the tight knot of fury in my chest loosening just a fraction.
"I don't think survey stakes make good kindling." I said, feeling some of the tension drain out of my shoulders, replaced by a tired sort of amusement.
"Only one way to find out." Harper rumbled, bending down to gather the stakes Remy had dropped, his massive hands making quick work of the pile. "We should document this first. Photos. GPS coordinates. Evidence for when we take them to court." His voice was calm, practical, the voice of a man who knew how to fight battles both physical and otherwise.
"You think we have a case?" I asked, watching him pull out his phone and start photographing the remaining stakes, his movements methodical and precise.
"I think they're overreaching." Harper said, snapping another photo, the flash bright against the green shadows. "The original dispute was about the boundary near the road. This—" he gestured at the line of stakes stretching deeper into the bayou,"—this is new territory. Literally. They're claiming land that was never part of the original filing." His dark eyes met mine. "That's actionable." He finished, something like hope in his voice.
"How do you know so much about property law?" Remy asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, his head tilting slightly as he watched Harper work.
"Had my own disputes over the years." Harper said shortly, moving to the next stake, his jaw tight. "Developers wanted the distillery property for a resort. Tried every trick in the book to force me out." He paused, something dark flickering across his features. "They failed." He added, with the kind of finality that suggested the story was much longer and much uglier than he was letting on.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Remy said, but there was respect in his voice now, something that hadn't been there before.
"Same goes for all of us." Silas said, his pale eyes scanning the treeline, his body positioned between me and the deeper bayou, instinctively protective. "Pack protects pack. That's how it works." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"We're not—" I started, then stopped, because what were we, exactly? Not bonded. Not mated. Not officially anything. Just four people standing in a swamp, pulling up survey stakes and making promises neither of us fully understood.
"Not yet." Harper said, reading my hesitation, his dark eyes soft when they met mine. "Doesn't matter. You're ours to protect. Has been since the moment you walked into my distillery and told me my brandy tasted like my grandmother's heart in a bottle." His voice went rough, thick with emotion he couldn't quite hide.
"Poetic." Remy said, pressing a hand to his chest, his amber eyes bright with genuine feeling. "The big guy has hiddendepths." He looked at me, his expression softening. "He's right, though. About all of it. You're not alone anymore, chere. However this thing between us plays out, you've got three Alphas who'd burn the world down for you." He paused, a hint of his usual mischief returning. "And one very judgmental alligator." He added, jerking his thumb toward the water where Gumbo had appeared, his massive head breaking the surface near the shore.
I looked at Gumbo, then at the three men standing in my bayou like they belonged there, then at the pile of survey stakes at my feet.
"Okay." I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. "Let's gather all of these up and head back. We can figure out our next move at the cabin." I paused, something warm unfurling in my chest. "Together." I added, watching the word land differently on each of their faces—quiet satisfaction on Harper's, relief on Remy's, something like peace on Silas's.
We spent another hour combing through the area, pulling stakes and documenting everything we found. Harper photographed each location, marking coordinates on his phone with the methodical precision of a man who'd fought this kind of battle before. Silas ranged ahead, silent as a ghost, finding stakes I never would have noticed—hidden behind brush, half-submerged in mud, driven deep into root systems. Remy worked with surprising focus, his usual lightness replaced by a grim determination that showed a side of him I hadn't seen before.
By the time we finished, we had a pile of thirty-seven stakes and enough photos to wallpaper a courtroom.
"That's all of them." Silas reported, emerging from the tree line one final time, his pale eyes sweeping the area with tactical precision. "At least all of them in this section. They may have planted more further east." His jaw tightened. "We should check the full perimeter. Soon." He advised.
"Tomorrow." Harper said, his voice firm, his massive arms crossing over his chest as his dark eyes met mine with a question in their depths.
I nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, the unspoken question answered. "Tomorrow. I'll make a map of my property boundaries. Show you the areas that are most vulnerable." I looked at the pile of stakes, my stomach tight with anger and something else—something that felt almost like hope. "Thank you. All of you. This means..." I trailed off, unable to find words big enough for what I was feeling, my throat tight with emotion.
"Family doesn't need thanks." Remy said simply, his amber eyes warm as they met mine. "Family just shows up." He bumped his shoulder against mine, a casual gesture of affection that made my chest ache.
The journey back was quieter than the journey out, but it was a different kind of quiet—comfortable rather than tense, thoughtful rather than awkward. I watched the three of them as we paddled, observing the small shifts in their body language, the subtle ways they were learning to exist in the same space.
Harper and Silas had found a rhythm, their paddles moving in silent synchronization, two predators operating as a unit without needing words. Every so often, Harper would glance at Silas—checking in, acknowledging—and Silas would respond with a minute nod, a flicker of his pale eyes. Military precision meeting mountain stillness, and somehow finding common ground.
Remy had stopped complaining about the cramped space. He'd positioned himself so he could see both men, his amber eyes moving between them with obvious fascination. Occasionally, he'd make a comment—some dry observation or teasing remark—and Harper would rumble a response, or Silas would offer that bone-dry humor I was still learning to recognize.
They weren't friends. Not yet, maybe not ever. But they were something. Pack, maybe. Or the beginning of it.
"You're staring." Remy's voice cut through my thoughts, his amber eyes bright with amusement when I met them. "See something you like, cher?" He asked, his dimples appearing.
"Just thinking." I said, not bothering to deny it, my paddle resting across my knees as I let the pirogue drift. "About how different this is from a few weeks ago." I gestured vaguely at the three of them with one hand. "You were ready to kill each other before. Now look at you." I smiled, something warm spreading through my chest as I watched them—three Alphas learning to share the same space without bloodshed.
"I'm still ready to kill him." Silas said from behind me, his voice flat as river stone, but when I turned to look, there was a glint in his pale eyes that might have been humor, his scarred hands working the paddle with easy precision. "I've just decided to wait." He added, one corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.
