Page 44 of Knotting the Firefighters

But you're already meeting them.

Already commanding these Alphas like you never stopped being chief.

Already running toward danger instead of hiding from it.

The gear settles into place with familiar comfort—heavy, protective, smelling of smoke and potential and purpose. I secure the last strap as the van takes another corner, Bear's hand shooting out automatically to steady me when I sway.

"Thanks," I manage, meeting his eyes in the dim interior.

"Always," he responds, simple word carrying weight of promises neither of us should be making three hours after meeting.

The van's siren drowns out whatever I might have said in response, which is probably divine intervention preventing me from saying something irrevocably stupid.

I settle onto the bench, turnout gear settled into place, adrenaline thrumming through my system like electricity, purpose flooding back into spaces that have felt empty since I left Los Angeles.

This is who I am.

Not the woman hiding in vintage dresses.

Not the victim running from her past.

Chief Murphy, who runs toward flames instead of away from them.

Through the van's small window, I can see Sweetwater Falls passing in blur of familiar landmarks—Main Street, Rosie's Diner, Wildflower & Wren in the distance. My adopted home, my sanctuary, currently hosting fires that someone's setting deliberately to destroy, threaten, or draw me out.

The thought crystallizes with cold certainty.

Gregory can try whatever game he's playing.

Him and his pack can discover what happens when you back a fire chief into corners.

Bear's watching me with unreadable expression, dark eyes tracking whatever he sees in my face.

"You're terrifying when you're focused," he observes, tone carrying admiration rather than criticism.

"Good," I respond flatly. "Terrifying keeps people alive. Terrifying makes crews follow orders without hesitation. Terrifying is what transforms chaos into coordination."

"And here I thought you were just a pretty Omega who baked excellent pies."

The teasing in his voice makes me smirk despite the circumstances.

"I contain multitudes. Some of them involve pastry, others involve commanding Alphas twice my size with nothing but voice and attitude."

His laugh fills the small space, warm and genuine.

"Lucky for us, we appreciate both skill sets."

The van slows, siren cutting off as we apparently approach the scene. Through the window, I can see smoke rising—not the massive column from earlier, but significant enough to require full response.

Residential structure.

Possibly commercial.

Definitely deliberate, because coincidences don't exist at this frequency.

Bear moves to the door, hand on the release, pausing to look back at me with expression gone suddenly serious.

"Whatever we find out there—follow my lead on pack dynamics. Aidric's technically in command until official chief is designated, and he gets territorial about authority challenges."