Page 106 of Knotting the Cowboys

"But you survived." Not a question. River knows this part, has probably pieced together more than I've said.

"Barely. Neighbor saw the smoke, called it in faster than they expected. Fire department actually gave a damn about saving an Omega." I touch my throat, remembering how it felt to breathe superheated air. "Though sometimes I wonder if I actually did survive, or if this is just what comes after."

"This is real," River says firmly. "You're real. You're here."

"Here." I test the word, let it settle on my tongue. "Yeah. But getting here meant leaving everything. Not that there was much left to leave."

The confession builds momentum now, words tumbling over each other like water over stones. "The divorce happened while I was still in the hospital. They were so eager to cut ties, they didn't bother fighting for assets. Walked away with three-quarters of everything, calling it generous that they left me anything at all."

"Generous." River's repetition drips with disgust.

"The thing is—" My voice cracks, and I have to pause, swallow hard. "The thing that kills me is I built that wealth. Every penny. They were drowning when I joined the pack, hemorrhaging money on bad investments and pride projects. I restructured everything. Negotiated contracts, managed budgets, turned their joke of a construction company into something actually profitable."

My hands gesture wildly now, trying to shape three years of financial slavery into something River can understand. "Fourteen-hour days balancing books. Teaching myself tax law because they were too cheap to hire an accountant. Making their meetings run smooth, their presentations shine. And they looked at all that and saw... a tool. Something to use up and throw away when a better opportunity came along."

"You weren't a tool," River says quietly. "You were the foundation."

"Foundations can be replaced." The bitterness is back, coating my throat. "Especially when burning the old one down nets you sympathy points with the territorial Alpha council. Poor Iron Ridge pack, losing their Omega in such a tragic accident. Let's fast-track their expansion permits. Let's approve those loans they wanted."

The sun touches the mountain peaks now, setting them ablaze. Beautiful and terrible, like most true things.

"I found out later—one of the nurses let it slip—they'd already been planning my replacement. Had their eye on some young Omega from a traditional family. Seventeen and sheltered and wouldn't know financial exploitation if it bit her." My laugh sounds like breaking glass. "Probably would have been grateful for the chance to serve such successful Alphas."

"Willa—"

"I did everything right." The words explode out of me, years of suppressed rage finally finding voice. "Submitted when they wanted submission. Worked when they wanted a business partner. Cooked their meals and balanced their books and warmed their beds and never once complained when they scent-marked me so heavy I couldn't smell anything else for days. I ignored every red flag, every warning sign, every instinct that screamed 'run' because I thought—I thought?—"

"You thought love meant enduring," River finishes when I can't.

The sob that escapes me sounds wounded, animal.

But I don't cry. Not yet. There's more poison to purge first.

"They paid someone to kill me, River, and since that failed, they decided they could just do it themselves. Looked at everything I'd done, everything I'd built for them, and decided burning me alive was worth the insurance payout. Worth all I’d sacrificed as the best ‘thank you for your service as our Omega’." My voice drops to a whisper. "And the worst part? Sometimes I catch myself thinking they were right. That I was too much trouble. Too opinionated. Too...me."

The sun's lower edge kisses the horizon now, and the temperature drops like a stone.

I shiver, suddenly aware of how exposed I am up here—not just physically but emotionally.

Laid bare as the hills surrounding us.

"And now I'm here, surrounded by another pack of Alphas who look at me like—" I stop, unable to finish. Like I'm precious. Like I matter. Like they'd move heaven and earth to keep me safe. The comparison to Iron Ridge is so stark it makes my chest ache.

"That's what scares me most," I admit, wrapping my arms around myself as the evening chill seeps through thin fabric. "Not the fire dreams or the panic attacks or these fucking ruined lungs that wheeze when the pressure drops. It's that I can feel myself starting to trust again. Starting to hope."

River remains silent, letting me spill this poison that's been eating me alive for two years.

"What happens when you all realize I'm too much work? When the novelty wears off and you see what Iron Ridge saw—an Omega who can't just submit prettily, who has opinions and ambitions and a brain that won't shut off?" My voice rises,cracking on the edge of hysteria. "What happens when you offer me the world, and I believe you, and then?—"

"Then what?" His voice is so gentle it hurts.

"Then you take it away." The words come out small, defeated. "Because that's what Alphas do. They give you just enough to make you dependent, then pull it away to remind you who holds the power."

The silence stretches between us, filled with the whisper of wind through grass and the distant call of a nighthawk.

The sun continues its descent, unhurried by my emotional breakdown.

"You want to know something?" I continue, surprising myself. "I almost didn't come back here. Even with nowhere else to go, even with Grandpa leaving me everything. I sat in that lawyer's office in Bozeman for three hours, staring at the deed, paralyzed."

---