You don’t know what made you choose this town—maybe it was the quiet streets, the way the houses felt lived-in, safe. Or maybe it was the exhaustion weighing down your bones, urging you to stop running and finally settle. The little house at the end of the lane isn’t much, but it’s yours, and for the first time in a long while, you can breathe.

You’re unpacking boxes when the knock comes, firm but not unkind. When you open the door, the scent of pine and leather hits you first, then the presence—broad-shouldered, steady-eyed, undeniably Alpha. His uniform tells you he’s the sheriff, but the way he looks at you, at the curve of your belly, says he’s more than just a lawman.

“Welcome to Blackwood,” he says, voice deep, warm. “I’m Sheriff Callahan. Just wanted to check in, see if you need anything.”

You hesitate, but there’s something about him—something solid, something safe. And for the first time in a long while, you think maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.