Chapter 12 — No Special Treatment

Hallie discovered the problem before anyone actually asked her to solve it. Two work crews stood beside the supply shed arguing over the same stack of lumber.

One needed it for repairs near the outer cabins. The other had been told to reinforce a section of roofing before the next rain. Neither crew had enough material to finish both jobs, and the wagon carrying the rest would not arrive until later.

Hallie had been assigned to check the morning distribution list. Nothing more. That should have made her invisible to the argument.

It did not.

One of the men looked at her and said, “Tell them we have priority.”

Hallie lowered the list.

“Why would I do that?”

He frowned. “Because Grant’s not here.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“You’re his wife.”

The title had arrived before the authority again.

Hallie glanced at the other crew. They were watching her now too.

“I’m his wife,” she said. “I’m not your work supervisor.”

The first man’s irritation deepened. “Someone has to decide.”

“Yes.”

He waited. Hallie left the silence open.

A woman from the roofing crew folded her arms. “So what are we supposed to do? Stand here until Caleb comes by?”

Hallie looked at the lumber. Then at both lists.

Bellamy Creek would have solved this quickly. One person with rank would decide which project mattered more, reassign the material, and tell everyone else to stop arguing.

The answer came to Hallie almost automatically. She stopped herself before saying it. Cedar Draw had not given her that power.

More importantly, the people in front of her had not agreed that one person should have it.

“What happens if the cabin repairs wait until this afternoon?” she asked.

The first man blinked. “We lose time.”

“Anything unsafe?”

“No.”

Hallie turned to the roofing crew. “And your section?”

“If we leave it open and the weather turns, we redo part of yesterday’s work.”

“So one delay costs hours. The other might destroy work already done.”

The woman nodded.

The first man muttered, “That doesn’t mean they get everything.”

“No,” Hallie said. “It means you don’t need me to order anyone. You need enough lumber to protect the roof until the wagon arrives.”

She crouched beside the stack and checked the marked lengths.

“If they take these,” she said, pointing to a smaller portion, “can you still start the cabin frames?”

The man hesitated. Then looked down.

“Yes.”

“And when the wagon comes?”

“We finish.”

The roofing woman shifted closer. “That would cover the exposed section.”

Hallie stood.

“Then decide whether that works for both crews.”

The two exchanged a look. Not pleased. But thinking.

A voice came from behind Hallie.

“Sounds like they already have.”

Grant. Everyone straightened slightly. Hallie turned.

He stood a few steps away, expression unreadable.

The man from the cabin crew gestured toward her. “We thought she could settle it.”

Grant’s gaze moved to Hallie.

“Could she?”

The question irritated her. He knew perfectly well what had happened.

Before she could answer, the man said, “She’s your wife.”

Grant looked back at him.

“That doesn’t make her your Alpha.”

The words landed without heat. He left it at that, without a speech or declaration of Hallie’s importance. Just the boundary.

Grant nodded toward the lumber. “If both crews agreed, use the split. If they didn’t, find Caleb.”

Then he walked past them into the shed. Hallie stared after him. The man beside her cleared his throat.

“The split works.”

The roofing woman nodded. “For us too.”

Within minutes the argument dissolved into movement. Hallie should have felt satisfied. Instead, something else bothered her.

Grant had arrived while she was still working through the problem. He had known she was irritated before she had said a word to him. Again.

She found him inside the shed checking a damaged hinge on one of the storage cabinets.

“You knew.”

Grant glanced over. “Knew what?”

“That I was angry.”

His hand stilled. Hallie stepped closer.

“You do that often.”

“Do what?”

“React to things I haven’t shown you.”

Grant straightened. For a moment, she thought he might dismiss the question. He did not.

“You were angry.”

“I know I was.”

“That wasn’t a guess.”

The shed suddenly felt smaller.

Hallie remembered their first meeting. The way he had watched her after the dispute. The way his attention had sharpened whenever fear or grief rose too close to the surface.

“You can sense emotions.”

Grant’s expression changed very slightly.

“Yes.”

Hallie’s skin prickled.

“How?”

He looked toward the doorway. No one stood near it. When his gaze returned to her, he was closer than before.

Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body without contact.

“I can feel strong emotions when someone is near me,” he said.

“Can you hear thoughts?”

“No.”

“Can you tell why someone feels something, or who it’s about?”

“No.”

Hallie studied his face.

“You could feel me from the beginning.”

“Yes.”

“Fear.”

“Yes.”

“And you never said anything.”

“You didn’t owe me an explanation for being afraid.”

The answer struck harder than she expected. Grant’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re doing it now,” Hallie said.

“Doing what?”

“Feeling whatever that was.”

“I can feel that something changed.”

“But not what.”

“No.”

Hallie took a slow breath.

The fear she had carried around him from the first day had always been tangled with memories he did not possess. She had assumed his uncanny attention came from experience, instinct, the kind of observation that made people call him dangerous.

Not this.

“What are you?” she asked.

Grant went still. The silence felt different from his usual restraint, more like a door he was deciding whether to open.

“My father was a wolf,” he said.

Hallie left the question open. Grant held her gaze.

“My mother was Vael.”

The word turned cold and unfamiliar in the space between them. Hallie had heard it before. Mostly in warnings.

Mostly spoken by wolves who believed fear counted as knowledge. Grant held her gaze.

“I’m half-Vael,” he said.

Hallie stared at the man she had married. And understood that she had known far less about him than she thought.