Page 177 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Probably," Mavi confirms, jaw tight. "Abusive packs share information. Success stories and failures both. What works, what doesn't, how to avoid consequences."

"Which is why we're not letting history repeat itself," Chief Reyes interjects firmly. "My department failed Celeste. The system failed her. But we learn from our mistakes."

Through the window, headlights sweep across the yard—slow, deliberate. We all tense, but the car continues past without stopping. Just someone heading home, but the reminder of our vulnerability hangs heavy in the air.

"She named us," Austin says suddenly, pressing a kiss to Luna's head. "In her will. Said we were the only pack she'd ever trusted. The only alphas who saw her as a person instead of a possession."

"We tried to protect her," River adds, pain threading through his voice. "Thought we had. She left to keep us safe—said her past was too dangerous, that she couldn't risk it following her here."

"But it found her anyway," Cole finishes. "Three states away, starting fresh, and they still found her."

The weight of their failure sits heavy in the room, shaping everything that's happened since. Their immediate acceptance of me. The fierce protection. The way they look at me sometimes like they're seeing a ghost.

"I'm not her," I say quietly. "I'm not Celeste."

"No," Cole agrees, meeting my eyes finally. "But you're facing the same kind of monster. And we'll be damned if we lose someone else to male pride and possessive rage."

Chief Reyes clears her throat.

"Which brings us to immediate concerns. Mr. Harrison's behavior today, combined with this surveillance evidence, gives us grounds for enhanced protective measures. But I need complete honesty from all of you. No cowboy justice, no taking matters into your own hands. We do this legally, or we risk giving him ammunition."

"Legally didn't save Celeste," Mavi points out, an edge to his voice.

"No," the chief agrees. "But that was a different department, different time. I run things differently." She stands, authority radiating from every line of her body. "Patrol units will do hourly passes starting tonight. Any suspicious activity, you call immediately. Don't confront, don't engage. Let us build the case."

"And if he escalates before you can build it?" Cole asks what we're all thinking.

Chief Reyes meets his gaze steadily.

"Then we'll be ready. I've got officers trained in domestic violence response, omega protection protocols, pack dynamics. This isn't some backwoods department that looks the other way."

As if to punctuate her words, another set of headlights appears in the distance. This time they slow as they approach our gate, and everyone tenses. The car idles for a long moment—ten seconds, twenty—before continuing on.

"Could be nothing," the deputy offers. "Could be rubbernecking."

"Or it could be reconnaissance," Mavi counters, already typing something into his laptop.

Chief Reyes nods.

"Which is why we start protocols tonight. Deputy Martinez will do the first perimeter check, establish baseline normal for your property. Tomorrow, we'll have a full security assessment."

She turns to me, expression softening slightly.

"Ms. James, I know this is overwhelming. But you're not alone in this. Not anymore."

The echo of what my men keep telling me, now backed by a badge and the weight of law. But all I can think about is Celeste—another omega who thought she'd found safety, who had these same men promising protection, who died anyway.

Outside, that darkness feels alive with threat, Blake's presence poisoning even the sanctuary of home. Luna babbles something that sounds almost like "mama," and my heart cracks a little more.

Because now I understand the weight these men carry, the ghost that haunts their every protective instinct. And I understand why Blake's threats hit them so hard.

They've failed before.

And the cost was everything.

Wendolyn shifts her weight, the movement breaking the suffocating silence that followed the revelation about Celeste. She clutches a leather portfolio to her chest like armor, knuckles white against the dark material.

"That's actually why I'm here," she says, voice steadier than her hands. "Well, part of why. I brought someone who can help."

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