Saramaria doesn’t flinch. She turns to face him, her chin raised. “I’m here to evaluate it first.”
“We live here,” Knox says, his voice tight. “All three of us. We have leases.”
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Those weren’t mentioned in his will.”
“What the fuck?” I say.
She ignores me. “My grandfather may have let you stay here, but he’s dead. I own this land now.”
She looks at each of us in turn, her green eyes burning with a cold fire. “I have some experts coming by. I’m hoping to put this place on the market before the start of next week. I’m hoping that will be sufficient time for you to vacate.”
The words hit us like a physical blow. I can feel my Alpha rising, a protective, territorial instinct that’s been dormant for years. Beside me, I can feel the same from Knox and Boone.
Tension snaps through all three of us, a silent, unified response to the threat. This is our home. Our sanctuary. And this woman, this Omega with her city suit and her sharp words, has just declared war.
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Boone says, then turns and walks away.
He doesn’t go far. He stops a few paces away, his back to us but his body angled so he can still see her, his stance rigid. He’s watching, waiting.
He’s clearly furious.
I know that look. It’s the same one he gets when a bull is about to burst from the chute.
I watch Saramaria draw a breath, her shoulders rising and falling in a controlled motion. When she turns back to us, the mask is firmly in place, all traces of the vulnerable Omega from moments ago gone.
“I understand this comes as a shock,” she begins, all business now, “but I have evaluated the situation.” Her gaze sweeps the property, landing on a section of fence where a post has rotted and the wire sags under its own weight. “That, for instance. The place is dilapidated. The property taxes at the end of the year will be astronomical, more than this land is worth in its current condition.”
My jaw tightens.
She’s spent a couple of minutes here, and she’s already written it off?
She has no idea about the hours I’ve spent mending that exact fence, the sweat and care that’s gone into this land. The insult of it, the casual dismissal of our work, stings more than her threat to sell.
“So ten minutes on the property has given you all the assessment you need?” I ask, my voice laced with a sarcasm I don’t bother to hide.
Her eyes flash as they meet mine. “My ranch,” she corrects.
I scoff. She can have the title on paper, but this land is in our bones. It’s in the calluses on Boone’s hands and the scars on Knox’s body. It’s in the dirt under my fingernails.
Knox, ever the charmer, steps between us, a calming hand raised. “Whoa, okay. This is... a lot. How about we all take the day? Cool down. We can talk tomorrow with clear heads.” He offers her a disarming smile, the one that usually gets him out of trouble with sponsors and fans alike.
Saramaria looks from Knox’s easygoing face to my stony expression, then over to Boone’s rigid back. For a moment, Ithink she’s going to argue, to push her point but then she seems to deflate, just a little.
“Fine,” she says, her voice tight. “I’ll be seeing you around.”
Then she turns on her heel, her steps sure despite those ridiculous shoes, and walks back to the parked SUV. We watch in silence as she gets in and drives off, leaving a plume of dust in her wake.
The three of us stand there for a long moment after she’s gone, the silence heavy with unspoken words.
Knox lets out a low whistle. “Well. That could have gone worse.”
I snort. “She’s going to sell, Knox. She said it herself.”
“She’s upset,” Knox reasons. “Grieving. People say things they don’t mean when they’re grieving.”
“This felt pretty damn meaningful,” I mutter, my gaze drifting to Boone.
He still hasn’t moved, just stands there staring down the empty road where her truck disappeared. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his whole body vibrating with a tension so thick you could see it from a mile away.
