Page 123 of Knotting the Cowboys

"The judge—another Alpha, surprise surprise—looked at me like I was wasting his time. Granted the divorce in under twenty minutes. Gave Blake seventy-five percent of assets I'd built because 'an Alpha needs resources to maintain his pack.' Left me with just enough to not be considered destitute, because that might reflect badly on them."

"Maybe that's why I let it go," I say, the realization crystallizing as I speak. "Why I packed away that moment of clarity from the fire along with everything else. Because I knew I could never win. Not in a society that sees Omegas as property with delusions of personhood. Not when the whole system is designed to keep us grateful for scraps."

My right hand clenches into a fist, nails biting into my palm, and something shifts in my chest. Not healing—that's too simple a word—but maybe the beginning of reclaiming. "But being here..."

I turn finally, meeting Austin's eyes in the intermittent hazard light.

His face is a study in controlled emotion—jaw tight, eyes blazing with suppressed fury on my behalf, but holding himself back from taking over my moment.

"Seeing how life can be when you're surrounded by men who empower instead of diminish. Who ask what I want instead oftelling me what I need. Who celebrate when I show strength instead of punishing me for it." My voice grows stronger with each word. "I'm starting to realize something that scared girl in the fire knew but couldn't hold onto."

"What's that?" Austin asks softly when I pause.

"That I deserve to experience victory. Even in the littlest things." I spread my arms wide, encompassing the broken-down truck, the star-filled sky, this moment of raw truth between us. "I'm alive. Actually alive, not just existing. I'm prospering—maybe not financially yet, but in ways that matter more. I have a roof over my head that no one can take away because Grandpa made sure of that."

My fist unclenches, and I examine my hand in the amber light—strong, capable, unmarked by restraints.

"I have all my limbs. My lungs work, even if they're not perfect. I can ride horses and dance until 2 AM and make my own choices about what to wear and who to trust. I'm not some defective Omega hoping for handouts like those bastards labeled me."

The words come faster now, powered by a fury that's been fermenting for months.

"I'm a survivor. And now—finally, finally—I get to live on my rules. Do you have any idea how empowering that is? To wake up and decide what I want to do with my day? To not constantly calculate whether breathing wrong might set someone off?"

Austin's eyes reflect the hazard lights, turning them into small suns, and the intensity of his attention makes me shiver.

But I'm not done.

This last part is the most important.

"I finally have a choice and a chance to love the right way. Not the Iron Ridge way where love means ownership and care comes with invoices. Real love. The kind that builds instead of diminishes. The kind that celebrates instead of tolerates."

My voice cracks on the last word, but it's not from smoke damage this time.

It's from the overwhelming realization that I mean every word. That somewhere between that first terrifying night at Cactus Rose Ranch and this moment on a dark road, I've started believing I might actually deserve the life I'm building.

Austin moves then, closing the distance between us with deliberate steps that crunch on the gravel.

His hand comes up slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want, but I'm frozen in place by the intensity in his eyes. His fingers are gentle under my chin, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze.

The hazard lights paint him in alternating moments of gold and shadow, and my breath catches at the raw want I see there.

"If you didn't care about consequences," he says, voice low and rough with something that makes my stomach flip, "what would you do right now?"

The question hangs between us like a lit fuse, dangerous and impossible to ignore.

I laugh—nervous, breathy, nothing like my usual laugh—because how can I answer that? How can I tell him what's been building in me all night, maybe longer?

The way my body responded to his joy on the dance floor, the way his hands felt spinning me under the lights, the way he looks at me like I'm something precious and powerful all at once?

But then I remember what I just said about living on my rules.

About choosing how to love.

And maybe it's the adrenaline from the night, or the stars watching like ancient witnesses, or just the way the moonlight catches in his eyes, but I find my courage.

"Honestly?" I meet his stare directly, letting him see everything I've been holding back. "I'd ask you to kiss mesenseless. Like your whole world is slipping away and I'm the only thing that can save it. And then..." I swallow hard, but push through. "I'd beg you to fuck me against this truck so hard and deep I'll see stars that put those ones to shame."

His breath hitches, pupils dilating until his eyes are more black than hazel, but I'm not done. I force a playful smile, trying to lighten what I've just confessed.

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