"And you are?"
"Someone who doesn't appreciate outsiders insulting our home." Cole's voice carries that particular Alpha edge that promises violence, controlled but present. "If Sweetwater Falls is too 'dirty' for your prestigious touch, I'd suggest you leave. The town doesn't take kindly to disrespect."
"The town?" Blake laughs, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "This place is a dump. Half the buildings need condemning, the streets are barely paved, and it smells like cow shit and desperation." He takes another step forward, chest puffing out in that way insecure Alphas do when challenged. "But money is money, even if it comes from dirty sources. Iron Ridge needs capital for our new ventures, and every penny counts."
"Then count them somewhere else."
Blake's eyes narrow.
"You going to make me, old man?"
The insult hangs in the air like a challenge. Cole doesn't rise to it, just stands there solid as a mountain, immovable. The morning sun casts harsh shadows across Blake's face,highlighting the cruel twist of his mouth as he turns his attention back to me.
"I see you've found yourself another protector, Willa. Though really, scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren't you? First that pathetic pack in Nevada who the government allows Omegas to “borrow” so you get your shit and be out of anyone’s way, and now some washed-up rancher who probably can't even get it up anymore." His voice drops, becoming conversational in that way that always preceded his worst cruelties. "Does he know how disappointing you are in bed? How you just lie there like a dead fish? I tried to train you properly, God knows, but some Omegas just don't have it in them."
The words hit like physical punches in the depths of my gut, each one precisely aimed at old wounds.
To dare say that publicly — boldly in hopes someone in this small town will pick it up and spread it like wildfire — only proves just how much this man hated me.
Despised my existence that was only in his favor when it blessed his and his pack’s pockets…
My cheeks burn with humiliation as several townspeople slow their steps, pretending not to listen while obviously hanging on every word.
Mrs. Henderson from the post office.
Jim from the hardware store.
The teenage Johnson twins who help at their family's feed mill.
All witnessing my degradation, Blake's clinical dissection of my failures as an Omega.
"Personally," Blake continues, warming to his theme, "I think this old dog just wants some young pussy and doesn't care about quality. Can't blame him—at your age, Cole, you take what you can get. Even if she's not really good in bed."
The silence that follows is deafening.
I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but stand there while my past strips me bare in front of the whole town.
My hands shake, and I clench them into fists, nails biting crescents into my palms.
Then Cole chuckles.
Cole…laughing?
It feels like a phenomenon that will lead to the end of the world as we know it.
It's not the reaction anyone expects, least of all Blake, whose eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
The sound is rich and genuinely amused, like Blake's just told the best joke he's heard all week.
"Not good in bed?" Cole shakes his head, still grinning. "Son, that's where you're wrong. See, the thing about Willa is she rides cock like a woman possessed. Like a maddening bull at the rodeo, all wild energy and sweet desperation." His voice drops to a rumble that carries clearly in the morning air. "Course, you probably never experienced that. Takes a real Alpha to bring out that side of her."
My mouth falls open.
Blood rushes to my face so fast I feel dizzy.
Did Cole just—in front of everyone?—
"And let me tell you," Cole continues, apparently just getting started, "I'm counting down the days until the paperwork's final. Because when it is?" His eyes glitter with dark promise. "I'm going to enjoy every second of her tight pussy taking every inch of my knot. Going to fill her up so good she forgets any other Alpha ever touched her, let alone her own name."