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I pour myself a mug, the black coffee steaming in the cool kitchen air. When I turn back around, Autumn's looking at me. Really looking. Her expression is open, vulnerable. She's not pretending anymore, she's not pushing. She's just... there, and in that moment, something inside me shifts. A gear I didn't know was there clicks into place. I give her a small smile, just a slight curve of my lips. Her breath catches, a soft hitch I can hear from across the room.

"I really am tired," she says again. She pushes her hair back from her face, her fingers lingering at her temple. "I'm just gonna..."

"Yeah," I say. "Go on. Get some rest."

She nods, her eyes lingering on mine for another second before she turns and walks down the hall. I watch her go, listening to the soft tread of her footsteps on the stairs, the click of her bedroom door shutting. The three of us are left in the kitchen. I take a sip of my coffee. It's bitter, too strong. Just like the feeling settling in my gut. This isn't just about keeping her safe anymore.

Clint breaks the silence first, pushing away from the counter. "We can't have that happen again." His voice is low, a rough edge to it that wasn't there before. He's not looking at either of us, just staring at the opening where Autumn just disappeared.

Briggs snorts. "No shit. She's a liability. An unclaimed omega in a bar full of drunk alphas? What did we think was going to happen?" He runs a hand through his hair. "We're running a farm, not a damn halfway house for wayward omegas."

My jaw tightens. "She's not a liability. She's a person, and that asshole had his hands on her." The memory of Jacob's smug face, his hand disappearing under her shirt, makes my knuckles ache again. "What were we supposed to do? Let him⁠—"

"Of course not," Clint cuts in, turning to face us. "But this stops now. She stays on the farm. No more bars. No more..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"She's not a prisoner, Clint," I say, my voice quieter than I intend. I can feel the defensiveness rising in my chest. "She'd been cooped up here for days. She just wanted a night out."

"And she got one," Briggs snaps, his eyes finding mine. "Look how well that turned out. We're lucky all we had to do was punch some asshole. What happens next time? What if we're not right there?" He stands up, pacing the small space between the table and the counter. "Her brother trusted us with her. This is not what he had in mind, I’m sure."

The mention of Hunter hangs in the air. He trusted us. The words feel like a lead weight in my stomach. We were supposed to keep her safe, not develop... whatever this is; this feeling that makes me want to go upstairs and check on her. To make sure she's okay. To do more than just punch a guy who touches her.

Briggs crosses his arms. He's thinking, I can see it in the way his eyes narrow. "We need to talk to Hunter," he says finally. "Tell him what happened. Let him talk to her and maybe check in on how much longer he’s gonna need her to stay."

"And tell him what else?" Clint asks, stopping his pacing. "That we can barely be in the same room with her without our alpha instincts going haywire? That we heard her getting herself off last night?" His voice is laced with self-disgust. "He'll pull her out of here so fast our heads will spin."

The silence that follows is heavier than before, filled with all the things we're not saying. All the things we're trying to deny.

"We're her guardians," Briggs states finally, his voice firm. Like he's trying to convince himself as much as us. "That's all. We keep her safe, teach her the ropes, and send her back to her brother when he says. That's the deal."

Clint nods, but his shoulders are still tight with tension. I just stand there, my coffee cup growing cold in my hand. It sounds so simple when he says it; a neat little box to put this all in. Guardians. Protectors. But it doesn't feel simple. It feels like we're standing on the edge of a cliff, and the ground is starting to give way.

I finish my coffee, the bitter liquid a sour taste in my mouth. "I'm going to take a shower," I say, needing to get out of the kitchen, away from the suffocating weight of their denial.

And my own.

“Don’t let the pizza burn.”

Chapter

Nineteen

Autumn

I only meant to close my eyes for twenty minutes…maybe thirty. Long enough to shake off whatever the hell is wrong with me before lunch turns into everybody asking if I’m dying.

Instead, I wake up confused.

“Shit.” My voice comes out rough.

I grab my phone off the nightstand too fast, blinking against the brightness.

4:37 PM.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

My body feels heavier somehow, the nap doing absolutely nothing except make me feel worse. My skin still feels too warm and sensitive in a way I can’t stop noticing; the collar of my shirt is suddenly annoying enough that I tug at it before I’m fully standing. Even the air feels wrong somehow, thick where it should feel cool, and when I drag both hands over my face, my own scent catches faintly under it.

Black cherry and almond.