Macon O’Reilly followed, quieter, but twice as intimidating if you actually paid attention. The man didn’t so much walk as settle into a place, like tectonic plates deciding where to rest for the next century.
For a moment, I braced myself for the usual alpha posturing—staring, sniffing, finding a way to assert dominance. But it never came. Rawley just offered me a gentle, “You look better than I expected, kid,” and Macon raised a thermos in silent salute before finding a spot against the wall, arms folded.
Burke flashed me a look, a quick spark of “You okay?” and I nodded. The three of them started talking—first in code, then in plain English. I tried to follow, but the pain meds and my own disbelief made the details slippery.
Rawley: “First thing’s a restraining order. I already talked to Dorsey. He’s prepping paperwork. Dennis gets within a hundred yards, it’ll be a felony.”
Burke: “He’ll test it. He’s a dumbass, but a persistent one.”
Macon: “Then we make it unappealing to try. I’ll set up the game cams. If he gets close, we’ll have time-stamped footage and a patrol car here in ten.”
Rawley nodded at me. “You want a lawyer? I know a guy in Missoula. Ex-judge, knows how to play rough.”
I shook my head. “I just want him to leave me alone. And maybe… I don’t know. Pay for what he did to my stuff.”
Burke’s hand landed on my shoulder, not heavy, just enough pressure to let me know he heard. “We’ll make it happen.”
The meeting shifted to logistics—what windows were most vulnerable, whether the dogs could sleep indoors for a while, which neighbors could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. It was all so… practical. No grandstanding, no threats of what they’d do to Dennis if he showed up. Just a clear, collaborative plan.
I’d never seen three alphas share a room without anyone trying to be king of the hill. It was weirdly moving. I kept waiting for the tension to snap, for someone to sneer or flex, but it never happened.
Eventually, Rawley pushed off the dresser. “We’ll let you rest,” he said. “Text if you need anything.”
Macon offered a quiet, “Heal up, Danny,” and left with barely a sound.
When the door clicked shut, the room felt twice as big.
Burke exhaled, flopping onto the edge of the bed. “I swear to God, those two could organize a moon landing with a week’s notice.”
I almost smiled, then remembered my lip. “Are all your friends like that? Or just the ones with necks thicker than my thigh?”
He grinned, showing all his teeth. “You haven’t even met the weird ones yet.”
He was so close. I could feel the heat of him, could smell the wild green of his skin, the sharp metallic undertone that meant alive and awake. I realized I was staring, and looked away.
A minute passed. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. The quiet was heavy and safe.
I didn’t know why I said it, but it came out anyway: “Why are you doing all this for me?”
I thought he’d laugh it off, maybe make a joke about my tragic lack of self-esteem. Instead, he went very still, like he’d been waiting for the question his whole life.
His mouth opened, closed. I could see the smartass reply gearing up, but then he shook his head and let the truth out raw. “Because you deserve better,” he said, and it was the closest I’d ever heard him get to vulnerable. “And because I can’t seem to stay away from you.”
He looked embarrassed for a second, which made something in my chest unclench.
“Even now?” I asked, holding up my battered hands for effect.
He caught one, laced his fingers through mine. “Especially now,” he said.
The touch was grounding, like standing barefoot in damp grass after a lightning storm.
We sat like that for a long time, just breathing.
I thought about every time Dennis had called me worthless, every year I’d spent believing I was too broken for anyone to want. It all seemed so distant, like something that happened to someone else.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
Burke shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to. I want to be here, with you.”
