Page 102 of Found by the Pack

“She got a message,” I say finally, voice clipped, eyes darting to the scene so I don’t have to look at him. “From Scott. Video of her at the unveiling. Message said, ‘Found you.’”

Gabe’s curse is sharp, low enough that only I hear it. He drags a hand over his face, the anger in his eyes flashing hot before he smothers it under something tighter, colder.

“Jesus, Boone.” He steps closer, voice like iron. “You shouldn’t even be here. You need to go.”

I shake my head. “We’re in the middle of a pile-up, Gabe. I can’t just walk.”

“The hell you can’t.” His voice sharpens, cutting through the noise of the scene. “Your girl is out there thinking that bastard’s closing in. Shepard texted. He got her to his place, but that’s not enough. She needs you.”

The word hits me harder than I expect.Girl. Like he’s acknowledging it. A rare moment where Gabe’s guard drops, and the truth of what Sadie is to me slips out.

“I can’t leave the crew.” My voice is stubborn, but weaker than I want.

“You can and you will.” Gabe steps into my space, low and hard, a brother’s command more than a deputy’s order. “I’ll cover this. I’ll talk to your boss. They’ve got hands enough. But Sadie? She doesn’t have anyone if it’s not us.

“Go home, Boone. Don’t make me say it again. The mayor is already on his way, and with that you know the media will be all over this and the roads will probably be closed. We have more than enough people to work on this. Go before you get stuck in traffic.”

I stare at him. There seems to be no resentment on his face. Just urgency. Just understanding.

I nod once. “Fine.”

He claps my shoulder, quick, rough. “Go.”

So I do. I strip off my gloves, hand the rest of my gear to another firefighter, and grab my truck. My pulse pounds harder with every mile back into Driftwood, the flashing lights of the accident fading in my rearview.

By the time I pull into the parking lot, my adrenaline has curdled into something else—fear.

I take the stairs two at a time. The door isn’t locked—of course it isn’t, Shep never locks it when he knows I’m coming. Gus greets me with a wag, but even his tail-thump doesn’t ease me.

“Shep?” I call low.

“In here.” His voice drifts from the living room.

I find them on the couch. Sadie’s curled up small, bouquet discarded on the coffee table, phone nowhere in sight. She’s asleep, her face pressed into the throw pillow, hair spilling pink and messy across her cheek.

And over her, Shepard’s draped a blanket, tucked in around her shoulders like he’s guarding her even in dreams.

Something in me unclenches at the sight. Relief, raw and fierce, nearly buckles me. She’s safe. She’s here.

But then?—

The air shifts.

Her scent has always been paint and soap, faint citrus, something that’s just hers. But now, under it, there’s a sharper note. Warmer. Heavier. Musk threading through sweet.

My stomach tightens immediately, recognition flashing through me.

Heat.

It hits me like a blow. Not full yet, not overwhelming, but it’s there. The first stirrings of it, unmistakable to an Alpha.

Shepard notices the way I freeze. His eyes narrow. “What?”

I drag a hand over my jaw, keeping my voice low. “Her scent. It’s different.”

He frowns, glancing down at her like he might smell it too if he tried hard enough. “Different how?”

I hesitate, but there’s no sense lying. “Heat.”