my point. When do you think this shit matters? Only when the danger is real. When you lived an ordinary beta life, you could get away with telling yourself you were nothing special. But trust me, the truth always finds a way out."
Jocelyn opened her mouth to object, but no words came to mind. She couldn't argue with his logic—and she had stepped up when forced to make a moral choice, even though she knew the risks she was taking.
Deciding to turn John in to the authorities, raiding his office safe, running to the Boundarylands, hiding with a group of prostitutes, shacking up with an alpha—an ordinary person wouldn't do any of that.
Was it possible that Aric might be even a little bit right about her? But there was no way he could know her better than she knew herself…was there?
Her actions over the last week were not those of a quiet, timid, and profoundly boring bookkeeper.
They were… Jocelyn couldn't come up with a word that fit. And she couldn't spare any more time to figure it out now—because something had caused Aric to snap his head back around, his stance signaling high alert.
Tilting his head back and raising his chin, he drew in a long deep breath.
"Get down," he growled so low Jocelyn thought she might have misheard him.
"What?"
"Get down!" He moved so fast that all Jocelyn saw was him flying through the air toward her, grabbing her out of the chair and shielding her fall with his body before rolling on top of her.
He was just in time.
A hailstorm of bullets sprayed the house, deafening her with the sound of shattering glass and bullets tearing through furniture and walls. These weren't the precise shots of a sniper with a target in his sights, but a scattershot barrage that destroyed everything it came in contact with.
Jocelyn's instincts urged her to curl up and cover her head, but it was nearly impossible with Aric's weight draped over her.
Even now—when she was out of her heat and back to her old vanilla self—he was still protecting her.
Her alpha was still willing to risk his life for hers.
Chapter Fourteen
The bullets kept coming.
For nearly a full minute, gunfire ripped through Aric's house, shredding everything in sight. Wood splintered. Dishes in the cupboards shattered. The walls were pumped full of jagged holes.
None of that mattered—possessions could be replaced, walls could be rebuilt. Through it all, Aric had one thought on an endless loop in his head:
Keep her safe.
He was dimly aware of her trembling beneath him, her body tucked into the curve of his. She didn't say a word. She barely moved at all, her breathing shallow, her eyes squeezed shut. That was fine. Staying put—staying unhurt—was her only job. Everything else was up to him.
When the shooting slowed, Aric lifted his gaze just high enough to see that the bullets came from two distinct vantage points, one on either side of the cabin—confirming what he'd been afraid of since the shooting had begun: Jo's old boss had brought reinforcements this time.
Rage surged in Aric at the thought. Almost every primal instinct in his body demanded that he tear out the front door and rip all of those bastards to shreds with his bare hands.
But there was one stronger force inside him that overrode every other instinct: to protect Jo.
And because of that, Aric controlled his urge for immediate action with a mighty effort and focused, instead, on strategy.
There were at least two gunmen out there, on different sides of the house. That meant no matter which one he went after first, he'd still be leaving an opening for the second gunman to burst into his home and finish the job. Jo would be torn to shreds.
Fuck. There was nothing he could do, no way to win this.
His only option was to stay with her until his last breath. Her life was the only victory that mattered. She was precious—and their bond was sacred. Aric would give everything, including his own life, to ensure her survival.
So he did something next to impossible for an alpha: he resisted the urge to fight. Intruders had come onto his land, destroyed his property, and threatened his omega, and Aric hadn't lifted one finger in retribution.
Not yet, at least.
At the next pause in the shooting, Aric rolled off Jo, ready to wreak havoc. He was about to rise up to his feet when Jo stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"No," she hissed. "They're not done. This