Page 174 of Knotting the Cowboys

Mavi pulls up another file, this one a spreadsheet that makes my head spin. Times, dates, patterns mapped out with investigative precision. "He knows our routines. When Cole leaves for the hardware store on Wednesdays. When River does his evening rounds at the clinic. When Austin takes Luna for her afternoon walk." His finger traces one particular pattern that makes bile rise in my throat. "When Willa hangs laundry on Tuesday mornings. Alone."

The crack of wood splintering makes us all jump. Cole's fist has gone through the coffee table, leaving a spider web of fractures across the surface. He stares at the damage like he's surprised by his own violence, then slowly extracts his hand. Blood wells from his knuckles, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Cole—" Austin starts forward, healer instincts overriding everything else.

"I'm fine." The words come out ground between teeth. "Table's not. Sorry."

"Fuck the table," River says quietly, and hearing mild-mannered River curse makes the situation feel even more dire. "We need to change everything. Every routine, every pattern. Starting now."

"Already on it." Mavi minimizes the surveillance footage, pulling up what looks like a military-grade planning document. "Motion sensors for the perimeter—infrared, not the cheap hardware store variety. Cameras with night vision covering all angles. Randomized schedules for leaving and returning. Safe room protocols."

"Safe room?" I echo, the words tasting foreign. "This is a ranch, not a bunker."

"It's whatever it needs to be to keep you and Luna safe," Cole says flatly, examining his bloody knuckles with detachment. "If that means turning it into Fort Knox, so be it."

"This is my fault." The words tumble out before I can stop them, guilt and self-loathing making my voice thick. "I brought this to your door. Blake's fixation, his threats—you were all fine before I?—"

"Stop." Austin's voice cuts through my spiral with uncharacteristic sharpness. "Don't you dare."

"But it's true?—"

"No." River rises from his chair, crossing to kneel in front of where I'm huddled on the couch. His dark eyes hold mine, intense with conviction. "What's true is that Blake Harrison is a predator who latched onto you when you were vulnerable. What's true is that he tried to kill you rather than let you leave. What's true is that none of that is your fault."

"You're pack," Cole adds simply, like that explains everything. "Our omega. Our family. His threats don't change that—they just clarify what needs to be done."

Luna makes a happy gurgling sound, reaching for Austin's face with chubby fingers. He catches her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her tiny palm, but his eyes stay on me. "She loves you. We love you. That's not something you apologize for, Willa. That's something we protect."

Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them back. This isn't the time for emotional breakdowns, not when Blake's shadow looms over everything we've built. "What about the legal stuff? The evidence he claims to have?"

"Fabricated bullshit," Mavi says with complete certainty. "I've seen his financial records, remember? Every receipt will be forged, every claim a lie. Margaret Chen will tear it apart."

"But mud sticks," River points out quietly. "Even lies, if repeated enough in court, can influence perception."

"Then we make sure our truth is louder." Cole flexes his injured hand, seemingly satisfied that nothing's broken. "Starting with documenting every violation, every threat, every moment of stalking."

"The security system goes in tomorrow," Mavi continues, scrolling through his planning document. "I've got contacts coming from Helena—people I trust. Discrete installation, professional grade. Austin, I need you to vary Luna's routine. No more predictable nap times on the porch. River?—"

"Already thinking about it," River interrupts. "I'll coordinate with the clinic, stagger my shifts. Maybe crash there some nights, make it harder to track patterns."

"No." The word rips from my throat with surprising force. "No splitting up. That's what he wants—to divide us, make us vulnerable. We stick together."

Something passes between the four men, a silent communication I'm only beginning to understand. Agreement, maybe. Or recognition that I'm right—Blake's counting on fear to fracture us.

"Together, then," Cole agrees. "But smart. Cautious. No unnecessary risks."

"I can help," I offer, needing to contribute something beyond being the source of danger. "I know how Blake thinks, how his pack operates. Their weak points."

Mavi nods slowly. "That could be useful. Tomorrow, after the security installation, we sit down and you tell us everything. Every detail about Iron Ridge's structure, their business dealings, their hierarchies. Information is ammunition."

Luna yawns hugely, tiny fist rubbing at her eyes. It's past her bedtime, the market chaos and subsequent tension keeping her up well beyond normal. Austin shifts her against his chest, humming something low and soothing.

"I should put her down," he says reluctantly. "But?—"

"We're not letting her out of our sight," Cole finishes. "Nursery's too isolated. She sleeps with us tonight."

Us. Not someone specific, but the pack as a whole. The word warms something in my chest even as the circumstances that necessitate it chill my blood. But before anyone can respond, the doorbell chimes through the house.

Everyone freezes.

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