Page 170 of Knotting the Firefighters
"Which means—" Hazel's voice carries triumph. "—with a few more weeks of documentation and final procedural steps, I can legally pursue Gregory and his pack with criminal charges that will result in arrest and prosecution with no bail option."
No bail.
They'll be detained pending trial.
Unable to threaten me, unable to continue their harassment, and actually facing consequences.
I'm speechless—hope and relief flooding my system with intensity that makes my eyes burn with unshed tears. This nightmare that's consumed months of my life, that drove me from Los Angeles to Montana, that nearly killed me multiple times?—
Might actually end.
Might have resolution beyond just survival.
Might see justice rather than just escape.
Hazel's hand finds my shoulder, grip firm and grounding:
"Good for you," she says with genuine warmth. "This investigation brought its own trauma, forced you into a pack arrangement you weren't seeking, complicated your life in countless ways."
Truth.
Uncomfortable truth about silver linings and terrible circumstances.
"But it's clear that these men genuinely love you," Hazel continues, conviction evident. "Compared to your previous pack—where you were tolerated at best, exploited at worst—this is a completely different dynamic."
Love.
She used the word love.
Not attraction, not biological compatibility, not pack obligation.
Love.
"You're glowing, Wendolyn," Hazel observes with a smile that suggests she's pleased with this development. "Actually glowing in ways I haven't seen since you arrived in Sweetwater Falls. Whatever this arrangement is, however it started, it's clearly good for you."
Glowing.
I'm glowing.
When did that happen?
When did survival transform into actually thriving?
Before I can formulate a response, before I can process the magnitude of what she's revealed, Hazel springs to her feet with athletic grace.
"I'll race you back!" she announces cheerfully, already taking off down the trail at impressive speed.
What?
No warning?
No countdown?
I remain frozen for several heartbeats, brain struggling to transition from emotional processing to physical competition.
"Wait! I wasn't ready!" The protest emerges as I scramble to my feet, fighting to catch up to Hazel, who's already gained a significant lead.
Competitive bastard.
