The sheriff turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “Burke? I know your type. You want to go to war over this, but it’ll only make it worse. Let me do my job. Let the system work.”
I snorted. “And if the system doesn’t?”
He looked at me, and there was no joke in his eyes. “Then you and I have a talk, off the record.”
The sheriff let himself out, closing the door soft behind him, boots clomping down the porch steps.
For a long time, the kitchen was silent, but for the sound of the fridge cycling. Danny looked at the floor. I looked at Danny. I didn’t have a script for this. Didn’t have a single joke that could cover the distance.
So I just said, “You did good, Danny. You did fucking amazing.”
He let out a shaky laugh, the sound raw as a skinned knee. “Never thought I’d actually go through with it.”
I stepped closer, careful to keep my voice low. “You did. And no one—no one—gets to hurt you again. I’ll tear out their fucking throat.”
He blinked, then smiled, lopsided. “You sound like a cartoon wolf.”
I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s big bad wolf.”
For a minute, he just watched me, like he wasn’t sure if I was real. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and caught my hand, squeezing hard. His grip was shaky, but his eyes were clear.
“You’re not going anywhere, right?” he said. “You’ll stay?”
“Wild horses,” I said. “Or, more likely, Rawley, but yeah. I’m here.”
Danny let out a shaky breath, then stared at the tabletop, tracing patterns in the wood grain. “He’s right, you know. If you go after Dennis, it’ll just give him what he wants.”
I crouched beside him, one hand on the back of his chair. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Neither is Rawley or Hooper or Jojo. You’re family now, and we protect our own.”
He looked up, and for the first time, there was a flicker of real hope in his eyes. Not much, but enough.
I squeezed his shoulder, gentle as I could.
We sat like that, holding on, the cold Montana morning brightening through the window. For the first time, the house felt safe. Like maybe we’d built something strong enough to last.
I wanted to promise him forever, but the best I could manage was, “This stops today. And I’ll be right here tomorrow to prove it.”
The war wasn’t over, but for once, I believed we might actually win.
He squeezed my hand harder.
I squeezed back.
And we waited together for the rest of the world to catch up.
Chapter Eight
~ Danny ~
The first thing I noticed was the sound of silence.
No screaming. No TV blaring infomercials at an ear-bleed volume. No heavy boots crashing down the hall like a SWAT raid. Just the low, steady tick of a clock and, somewhere distant, the coo of a mourning dove. For a minute I thought I’d died and gone to whatever afterlife omegas get when the universe is through with them.
Then I realized it just meant I’d made it through the night.
The guest room was dim, the curtains pulled just enough that sunrise bled in at the edges. I lay still, taking inventory. My ribs hurt, but not in a way that felt new. My face throbbed and my left eye wouldn’t open all the way. Everything else was one big bruise with a gradient from yellow to black. But I could breathe, and my hands were steady, and I didn’t have to flinch every time the floor creaked.
I turned my head—slow, because my neck was a disaster zone—and saw Burke slumped in the chair beside the bed. The position looked like torture, but he’d made it work: head tilted back, one arm flopped over the side, a paperback splayed on his stomach and threatening to dive for the floor with each exhale. His other hand, though, was still holding mine. Loosely, like he’d fallen asleep mid-squeeze and forgotten to let go.
