Page 15 of Knotting the Firefighters
"Hazel Martinez," she says, extending her hand formally. "Police Chief for Sweetwater Falls and the surrounding county. I've been assigned to your case."
"They assigned an Omega to an Omega assault case?" The surprise escapes before I can censor it. "They normally dismiss anything that involves our designation before the paperwork's even filed."
Her smirk transforms her face, making her look younger, almost mischievous.
"Let's say I took it upon myself to grab this particular file before it could make its way to the 'dismiss' pile. A few bad apples in the department aren't pleased about my interference, but that's what happens when you're dealing with a badass chief who doesn't play by their antiquated rules."
The casual confidence in her voice, the way she owns her authority without apology—it's intoxicating.
How long since I've met another Omega who refuses to shrink herself to fit expectations?
"I didn't work my ass off breaking through every stereotypical barrier just to watch other Omegas suffer from systemic injustice," she continues, scrolling through her tablet. "Your case particularly interested me. Former LA Fire Chief, decorated service record, suspicious fire that conveniently happens right after you refuse to sign over your pension? Please. I've seen more subtle frame jobs at kindergarten finger-painting contests."
A laugh escapes, bitter and surprised in equal measure.
"I really thought they'd get away with it."
"Not on my watch." She taps the screen with finality. "I'll do everything in my power to see Gregory Mason and his pack held accountable. However—" She pauses, and I know that tone, that careful diplomacy that precedes bad news.
"Let me guess," I interrupt, exhaustion creeping into my voice. "It has to do with my no-pack status."
She cringes like she feels the unfairness personally.
"Unfortunately, yes.”Am I surprised? No. Doesn’t make it a pain in the ass to acknowledge and accept.“Look, I understand where you're coming from. I intentionally remain pack-less because my career is vitally important to me. Can't have Alphas thinking they have say over my decisions just because we share a bed. But for this case to move forward with any real momentum, you need protection. Official protection that comes from having a pack, even temporarily."
"I'm a well-known Fire Chief from LA," I argue, though the words feel hollow even as I speak them. "Targeting me should cause enough trouble to make them think twice."
"Under normal circumstances, absolutely." Her expression softens, sympathy mixing with pragmatism. "But Wendolyn, these men intentionally set fire to a community kitchen…a public building…while you were inside making pies and casseroles. They locked you in and walked away laughing. Do you genuinely believe they're going to disappear quietly? Especially with an Omega taking the case and refusing to drop it?"
The logic is irrefutable, even as every instinct rebels against it.
She's right. Gregory won't stop.
If anything, having an Omega chief pursuing him will enrage his Alpha pride, make him more dangerous, more desperate to prove his dominance.
"I'll look into it," I concede, the words tasting like surrender. "Make sure I'm not alone, at least until this resolves."
"Temporary arrangement," Hazel emphasizes, understanding flickering in her dark eyes. "Just long enough to give you legal standing and protection. With proper pack backing, I can push this through in three months instead of the year-plus the system would normally demand. Three months of having Alphas formally connected to you, then you're free to return to your independent status."
"Three months." The timeline feels both endless and impossibly short. "I can handle three months."
I mean what’s the worse that can happen, right?
"I know you can." She closes the tablet, tucking it under her arm with military precision. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I know it's not easy, having another Omega handle something this personal."
"Thank you for giving enough of a damn to take it on," I counter, meaning every word.
She starts to turn away, then pauses, a different kind of smile playing at her lips.
"Speaking of taking things on—if you're truly a fire chief of the caliber I've heard, you might want to consider the position at our new station."
"New station?" The question emerges cautiously, because hope is dangerous and I've had enough danger lately.
"Station Fahrenheit. Opening next month, state-of-the-art facility. The current district chief, Tom Rodriguez, needs to retire soon—health issues, though he's fighting it tooth and nail. Man's stubborn as they come."
Tom Rodriguez.
The one who recognized me at the fire, who called me Chief Murphy when everyone else saw victim.
