Page 108 of Knotting the Firefighters
Man knows how to make a statement.
The silence he leaves behind is profound, heavy with implications and adjustments, and the reality that our pack dynamic just permanently shifted, whether we were prepared or not.
I glance down at Wendolyn still sleeping peacefully in my lap, completely unaware of the declarations being made on her behalf, the territorial posturing happening around her unconscious form.
She'd probably have opinions about being discussed like this.
Strong opinions delivered with vocabulary that would make hardened firefighters blush.
But right now, she's resting.
Trusting us to handle pack politics while she recovers.
Giving us responsibility, we'd better not fuck up.
My gaze shifts to Aidric, noting his expression—fury fading into resignation, frustration mixing with something that looks suspiciously like grudging respect.
"Well," I say cheerfully, breaking the heavy silence. "That was illuminating."
Silas snorts—an undignified sound that breaks his usual medical composure.
"One way to phrase it."
Aidric just shakes his head, hand coming up to massage temples like he's fighting a headache.
"This is a disaster," he mutters, though the conviction has drained from his tone. "Complete disaster."
"Disagree," I counter, fingers still moving through Wendolyn's hair. "This is an opportunity. Complicated opportunity that requires navigating unfamiliar territory, but opportunity nonetheless."
Both of them turn to look at me—Aidric skeptical, Silas curious.
"Elaborate," Silas requests.
I shrug carefully, mindful of my precious cargo:
"We've been functioning as an incomplete pack for years—three Alphas maintaining bonds but missing the central component. We told ourselves we didn't need Omega, that we were content with our arrangement, that traditional pack structures were outdated expectations we could ignore."
Truth we'd all agreed to.
Convenient fiction that avoided confronting deeper needs.
"But maybe we were wrong. Maybe wedoneed Omega—not just any Omega, but specifically one who challenges us, who refuses to be passive, who demands we rise to meet her rather than expecting her to diminish herself for our comfort."
Wendolyn shifts slightly in my lap, soft sound escaping that might be agreement or simply an unconscious adjustment. I still my hand in her hair, waiting to see if she'll wake, but she settles back into deep sleep without fully surfacing.
"Look at what she's already accomplished," I continue quietly. "Took our disorganized station and transformed it into a functional crew in under two hours. Identified flaws in Aidric's leadership without being cruel about it. Demonstrated exactlywhat command authority looks like when executed without hesitation or self-doubt."
Aidric's wince is visible—acknowledgment that my assessment is accurate, even if it stings.
"She's not going to be easy," Silas observes, though his tone carries appreciation rather than criticism. "She'll challenge us constantly, push back against anything she perceives as unfair or restrictive, refuse to perform traditional Omega subservience."
"Exactly," I agree enthusiastically. "She's going to drive us insane while simultaneously making us better…better Alphas, better pack, better men."
That's the appeal.
That's what makes her perfect for us specifically.
My attention returns to Calder's dramatic exit, to the declarations he'd made before disappearing.
