Page 163 of Knotting the Firefighters
"Who clearly discovered everything because she's a competent officer who investigates suspicious behavior."
"Clearly," Hazel confirms with satisfaction evident in every syllable.
She turns toward her scowling subordinates with an expression that makes several of them visibly cringe.
"So my stubborn as fuck group of cocky Alphas who can't accept losing gracefully are here to apologize with beer and food as restitution for their juvenile behavior."
The announcement triggers immediate celebration from the rookie firefighters—cheering, high-fives, enthusiastic declarations about calling the rest of the station down for an impromptu gathering.
One of the officers grumbles audibly.
"Don't make this more embarrassing than it already is."
Hazel's response is immediate and merciless.
"Not by a long shot. You're staying for the entire meal, making nice with the people you insulted, and demonstrating that police officers can occasionally display maturity and grace."
Brutal.
I love it.
Public humiliation as a teaching moment.
Effective strategy.
"Fuck, I love you, Hazel," I declare with genuine enthusiasm. "Need you in my roster permanently. Could use an officer with your particular brand of leadership."
"NO!" Four voices respond in perfect unison—Bear, Silas, Calder, and Aidric delivering synchronized rejection of my suggestion.
Possessive bastards.
All of them.
Calder appears behind me, breath warm against my ear as he whispers.
"Don't ever become that terrifying. My heart couldn't handle the stress."
I laugh—genuine amusement at his theatrical concern—while Hazel rolls her eyes at the collective Alpha response.
"I'll help you unpack the food," I offer, already moving toward Hazel with determination. "And you're staying for dinner. Non-negotiable. It's nice having another Omega around for company beyond constant Alpha posturing."
Hazel hesitates—clearly torn between professional obligations and a genuine desire for social connection.
I don't give her the opportunity to decline, pulling her into a quick hug before physically steering her toward the common kitchen.
"Alphas—" I call over my shoulder, authority evident despite casual tone. "—be good hosts and help our guests feel welcome before the humiliation of the evening officially begins."
Set them up for success.
Clear expectations.
Basic leadership.
They grumble—collective sound of mild protest—but I hear movement suggesting they're complying, integrating the uncomfortable police officers into station social dynamics.
"We feel sorry for your fellow officers," one firefighter comments with false sympathy.
"We can fucking hear you," comes the irritated response.
