"Come on, now." He followed, closing the gap I'd created, his persistence edging from annoying into alarming. "I'm just being friendly. New in town, looking for someone to show me around."
"Try the tourism board." I met his gaze, letting him see the steel in mine, the thirty-two years of not taking anyone's shit. "I said no."
Something flickered in his expression—annoyance, maybe, or wounded pride. The kind of Alpha who wasn't used to hearing that word. "One drink. That's all I'm asking. There's a bar down the street?—"
"Not if you were the last Alpha in Louisiana," I cut him off, letting every ounce of disdain drip from my voice. I turned on my heel, heading toward the front of the store, my pulse starting to pound with irritation.
His fingers closed around my wrist. Tight. Too tight.
"Hey—" I started, ready to yank free and give him a piece of my mind, maybe follow through on that wrist-breaking threat, but I didn't get the chance.
The temperature in the store dropped ten degrees. The ceiling fans seemed to slow. The shop owner went silent behind the register. Even the dust motes froze in the afternoon light.
Three shadows fell across us, blocking out the light from the windows. I didn't have to turn around to know who they were—I could smell them, feel them, the combined weight of their presence pressing into my back like a physical force. The hair on my arms stood up, and a primal satisfaction purred in my hindbrain.
Pine and woodsmoke and moonshine. Honey and whiskey. Ozone and cold steel.
My Alphas.
The stranger's grip fell away from my wrist like it had been burned. His face went pale beneath his tan, the cocky smile sliding off like water down glass. His scent soured instantly—the sharp, acrid smell of fear cutting through the cloying cologne. "I—I didn't know she was?—"
Harper didn't say a word. Just stood there, six-foot-four of solid muscle, arms crossed over his barrel chest, his expression flat and deadly. The scar on his jaw caught the light, making him look like exactly what he was—a man who'd been through hell and come out harder.
Remy flanked his left, all trace of his usual charm gone. No dimples, no easy grin. Just cold amber and a stillness that was somehow more terrifying than any threat. The easygoing musician had vanished, replaced by something ancient and dangerous.
Silas took the right, pale eyes burning with an intensity that made the stranger take a full step backward. He looked likewhat he was—a predator who'd found something threatening his pack. Silent. Lethal. Waiting.
None of them spoke. None of them had to. The growl started low, barely audible, but I felt it vibrating through the floorboards. Three Alphas, growling in perfect unison, a sound that spoke of violence and protection and consequences.
The stranger's palms came up, fingers spread wide. "Hey, man, I didn't—she didn't say she was claimed. I was just talking, I didn't mean anything by it?—"
Silas took one step forward. Just one. Silent as a ghost, smooth as a predator closing in on wounded prey. The stranger nearly tripped over his own feet backing away. He bumped into a display of ceramic figurines, sending a porcelain pelican crashing to the floor. His expensive boots scrambled for purchase on the worn hardwood.
"I'm going. I'm going." He grabbed his hat from where it had fallen and practically ran for the door, boots skidding, arms pinwheeling. He hit the door so hard it slammed into the outside wall, and then he was gone, the bell jangling frantically in his wake.
Through the window, I watched him sprint to his truck—a shiny new F-150 that probably cost more than my cabin—and peel out of the parking lot so fast he sprayed gravel everywhere.
The shop owner let out a low whistle from behind the register. "Well. That was something."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I turned to face my Alphas, putting my fists on my hips, and tried to summon the appropriate amount of annoyance. I could handle myself. I'd been handling myself for years before they came along. I didn't need three overprotective cavemen swooping in to rescue me from some handsy stranger.
But when I opened my mouth to tell them exactly that, what came out was: "How did you even know I was here?"
"Finished helping my cousin early." Remy's voice was still rough, the growl not quite faded from his throat. "Stopped by Magnolia's to surprise you, but you'd already left. Delphine said you were heading this way."
"And you two?" I looked between Harper and Silas, my eyebrow arched, arms still crossed defensively over my chest.
"Remy texted." Harper's jaw was still tight, a vein pulsing at his temple, his chest heaving with barely-contained aggression. "We came."
"The dog's fine." Silas's voice was quiet, clipped, but his scarred fingers were still twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for me. "Took her to the vet. She'll pull through." He added it like that explained everything, his pale eyes never leaving my face. Like leaving me undefended had never even occurred to him.
"I had it handled." I crossed my arms, mirroring Harper's stance, trying to project confidence even as my heart hammered. "I was about to handle it very loudly and with extensive profanity."
"We know." Remy's mouth twitched, the first crack in his deadly serious facade, a hint of his usual warmth breaking through. "But we wanted to deal with him too."
"By looming?" I raised an eyebrow at them, fighting to keep my expression stern even as warmth spread through my chest at their protectiveness.
