Page 166 of Saddle and Scent
"That's impossible," he stammers, his voice cracking with desperation. "I've been working on these deals for months. You can't just change the rules?—"
"The rules have been changed," one of the uniformed men interrupts, stepping forward with the kind of calm authority that suggests law enforcement background. "And continued attempts to conduct invalid business operations constitute fraud."
"Furthermore," Sarah adds with obvious satisfaction, "your behavior here today—including public threats, intimidation of community members, and disturbing the peace—provides grounds for immediate arrest."
Marcus's expression shifts from desperation to genuine panic as he realizes the full scope of his predicament. But when he opens his mouth to argue, the police officer raises a hand to stop him.
"Marcus Steele," the officer announces in the formal tone used for official procedures, "you're under arrest for disturbing the peace, making terroristic threats, and attempted fraud. You have the right to remain silent..."
"This is ridiculous!" Marcus shouts, his voice breaking with frustrated rage. "I haven't done anything illegal! I'm a legitimate businessman conducting legal negotiations!"
"You made public threats against community members and attempted to conduct business transactions you're not legally authorized to complete," the officer responds calmly as he approaches with handcuffs. "That constitutes criminal behavior in this jurisdiction."
Marcus tries to back away, but the other uniformed officials move to block his escape routes with practiced efficiency. His attempts at resistance are brief and futile, overwhelmedby people who clearly have experience handling uncooperative suspects.
"This isn't over!" he screams as they secure the handcuffs and begin escorting him toward a waiting vehicle. "I have lawyers! I have connections! You can't treat me like some common criminal!"
"You can call your lawyers from the station," the officer replies with professional detachment. "Where you'll be enjoying a lovely cell with a few other rowdy Alphas who also don't care about fancy titles and status."
As they drag him away, still shouting threats and protests, the tension that's been holding the entire square frozen finally breaks like a snapped wire. The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, people embracing each other with the kind of relief that comes from narrowly avoiding disaster.
"Juniper!" someone shouts from the crowd. "Your pack should be the new town council! You've got the youth and the vision this place needs!"
The suggestion is quickly taken up by other voices, and I find myself at the center of a growing chorus of support for something I never considered or wanted.
"That's an excellent idea," Thomas Ford announces, his voice carrying over the crowd with obvious approval. "I'm getting old, as are most of my fellow council members. It's time for new leadership with fresh perspectives."
"Callum's father and Wes's father would agree," Sarah Mitchell adds with a smile. "We've been discussing the need for generational transition in local leadership, and this seems like the perfect opportunity."
The weight of their expectations settles over me like a mantle I'm not sure I'm ready to wear. But when I look around at the faces surrounding me—people who've just watched us stand up to impossible odds and win, people who clearly believewe represent something worth following—I feel a sense of responsibility that goes beyond personal comfort.
"What do you think?" Callum asks quietly, moving to stand beside me with the kind of steady presence that makes difficult decisions seem manageable.
I look at him, then at Wes and Beckett, seeing the same question reflected in their eyes. This isn't just about me—it's about all of us, about the future we want to build together and the community we want to serve.
"I think," I say slowly, "that if this community trusts us to represent their interests, we should honor that trust."
Callum nods and steps forward, addressing the crowd with the kind of natural authority that suggests he was born for leadership roles.
"We'll happily accept the offer," he announces, his voice carrying to every corner of the square. "And we promise to serve this community with the same dedication and care that you've shown in supporting us today."
The cheer that erupts from the crowd is deafening, filled with genuine joy and relief and hope for a future that suddenly seems bright with possibilities.
People surge forward to congratulate us, to shake hands and offer support and share in the collective victory that's just been achieved.
As I'm swept up in the celebration, embraced by neighbors and friends and people who've chosen to trust us with their community's future, I feel something settle into place that goes deeper than gratitude or satisfaction.
Piper comes squealing over, and I notice a group of men watching from a far, the variety in their rugged looks make me wonder if they’re also from Saddlebridge and we just haven’t been introduced yet.
Piper was the first to reach me, barreling through the crowd like a missile of pure emotion. She broke through the wall of well-wishers with a squeal, her hair wild and eyes rimmed with the shine of near tears. She flung her arms around me, nearly knocking the wind from my chest as she hugged me with the kind of reckless force that only true relief could summon. I staggered back half a step but caught her, both of us laughing as we clung to each other like survivors of some ridiculous, wonderful disaster—which, in a way, we absolutely were.
"Did you see his face?" Piper gasped, half laughing and half sobbing into my shoulder. "He actually thought—oh my god, Junebug, you did it. You actually did it!"
"No, we all did it." I squeezed her tighter, marveling at how different this moment felt compared to every other time I'd tried to stand up for myself. There was no cold isolation, no sense of being the only one left holding the line. Not with Piper here, and not with my pack gathering behind me, their presence a steady pressure against my back.
Beckett was next, nearly lifting Piper and me both off the ground in a three-person bear hug that smushed my cheek painfully against his jacket. "Never doubted you for a second," he rumbled, voice suspiciously thick. "Well, maybe a second. Or two. But damn, that was legendary, Juniper."
Callum just rested his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle but grounding, his eyes flicking between me and Wes as if checking to make sure we were both really still standing. He didn't need to say anything; the pride and affection in his gaze were enough.
