Page 191 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Nothing," Willa says, and her voice is stronger than it has any right to be. She pushes herself up in my arms, meeting his gaze steadily despite everything. "I'm nothing to you. Never was. I belong here. With them. With my pack."

The transformation is stunning. This woman who arrived broken and running, who flinched at shadows and alpha voices, standing tall (metaphorically, since she's still in my arms) and claiming her place. Claiming us.

Blake's face contorts with rage, but the officers are already shoving him into the patrol car. The door slams on whatever threats he wanted to make, cutting off his poison before it can spread.

"Luna?" Willa asks, attention immediately shifting back to what matters.

"Perfect," Austin assures her, bringing the baby close enough for Willa to see. "Scared and probably going to have some cough from the smoke, but she's perfect. Just like her mama."

Willa starts crying then—not the desperate tears from the fire but something cleaner.

Release.

Relief.

Realization that it's actually over.

I think about that first night, pulling her from flames while she fought to go back in.

How she was all sharp edges and desperate protection, unable to trust that anyone would help without hidden cost. Now she melts into our combined embrace as River and Austinpress close, as Mavi returns from giving his statement to the police, completing our circle.

"Home," she whispers, like she's testing the word. "We're home."

I look around at the scene—the barn collapsed into glowing embers behind us, patrol cars carrying away the threat that's haunted her for months, our makeshift pack huddled together on the cold ground while Luna complains about the disruption to her sleep schedule. It shouldn't feel like home. It should feel like disaster, like trauma, like another close call to add to the collection.

But Willa's right. Somewhere between that first rescue and this one, between her broken arrival and her fierce protection of Luna, between learning to accept help and learning to give it—we became home. All of us, together.

"Yeah, sweetheart," I agree, pressing a kiss to her temple while she burrows closer. "We're home."

Sweetwater Falls fills with more sirens—ambulances River called, fire trucks to manage the barn's remains, probably half the town coming to check on their own.

Because that's what this place does.

It claims you, protects you, makes you family whether you planned on it or not.

Willa tips her face up to mine, and despite the soot and tears and exhaustion, she's smiling. Really smiling, with her whole heart in it. "I love you," she says simply. "All of you. My pack. My family. My home."

And there, surrounded by chaos and smoke and the echoes of violence finally ended, we built something new from the ashes.

Not just survival, but life. Not just safety, but belonging. Not just a hideaway, but a home worth fighting for.

Blake thought fire would be our ending. He was wrong.

Fire is just where we learned to rise.

To Embrace Being An Omega

~WILLA~

Immense warmth presses against me like a living thing, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, I can't remember where I am.

My skin burns—not the sharp bite of fever but a raw depth of warmth, as if my bones themselves have turned to coal.

The sheets beneath me are soaked through, twisted around my legs like restraints, and when I try to kick them free, my muscles refuse to cooperate properly. Everything feels wrong...and too much.

My nest. I'm in my nest at the ranch, safe, but?—

The scent hits me then, rolling off my skin in waves that make my head spin. Sweet like overripe fruit, heavy like summer storms, unmistakably omega-in-heat.

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