Page 24 of Knot the One They Want

My father's eyes soften with sympathy, but his jaw remains firmly set. "And she madeherchoice, son. Daria walked away. Now you need to be the alpha I raised you to be—and think about the omega currently in your care."

"Evangeline?" I scoff, her name bitter on my tongue. "She's a ditzy little socialite, signing up to be our broodmare because she thinks it'll be some fairy tale."

His gaze hardens. "You're not being fair. Evangeline is a lovely young woman. She deserves to be treasured, like any omega."

I turn away, bile rising in my throat. He doesn't get it. Doesn'twantto get it. In his eyes, one omega is as good as the next—as long as she looks pretty on my arm and pops out the next generation of Blackwoods.

But Daria was different. Special. The jagged hole she carved in my chest throbs, an invisible wound that refuses to heal. How can I give myself to another when I'm still bleeding out from the last one who shredded me?

"We're done here," I growl, shouldering past him.

The rest of the pack is already lined up, ready to head out and seal our fates. I take my place at the head of the line, squaring my shoulders under the weight of my father's stare. He can prattle on about duty and honor all he wants, and I'll play my part, at least for now, but I won't do it with a smile.

Asher meets my gaze, his eyes glinting with shared resentment. He inclines his head subtly, a silent promise. He has my back. Cole fidgets with his cufflinks, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He hates this farce as much as the rest of us. Even easy-going Lake looks ready to bolt, his normally cheerful face set in grim lines.

The mating march starts, the first ominous notes tolling like a death knell. The grand double doors leading into the gathering hall swing open. Murmurs rise from the assembled crowd as they turn to gawk at us, their eyes hungry for fresh gossip.

I steel myself, pasting on a cold, imperious mask. I'll get through this ceremony, one way or another. But Evangeline and everyone else better understand one thing.

I'm not going down without a fight.

As we stride down the aisle, the scent of the gathered alphas, betas, and omegas presses in on me, their auras crackling with anticipation.

No, not anticipation.Excitement.

Like this is some grand celebration and not a twisted game of politics and power.

And of course they're eager. The official merging of two of the most powerful coalitions in the region? The trickle down effects will be felt by all of them.

Fuck the people who actually have to live it, right?

I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to meet the probing stares and whispered speculations. Let them gossip. Let them place their bets on how long this sham of a mating will last.

If I have my way, it'll be the shortest in history.

We reach the dais and take our positions on the cushions, the plush velvet doing nothing to soften the hard knot of dread in my gut. The pack's unease pulses through our bond, a discordant hum I can't ignore. Asher's knee bounces, betraying his agitation beneath his practiced smile. Cole's fingers twitch, no doubt aching for the comforting weight of his brass knuckles. Lake's soft exhale is tinged with resignation, his gentle heart already bleeding for the omega he knows we'll hurt.

But there's no other choice. Not for me.

Evangeline will never be my mate, no matter what traditions we playact today. She's just a means to an end, a temporaryplaceholder until I can find a way out of this cage they've crafted so carefully.

I catch my father's eye across the room, his brow furrowed in warning. He knows me too well, knows I won't submit easily.

Good. Let him realize the depth of the battle he's facing. I am my father's son, after all.

I won't bend or break.

The first notes of the bridal march shatter my dark musings. The music swells, a haunting melody that should be triumphant. The heavy wooden doors creak open, and the crowd turns as one, their murmurs fading into reverent silence.

And then I see her.

For a moment, the world tilts on its axis, my breath catching in my throat. Evangeline is a vision in white, her dress a froth of delicate lace and shimmering satin that clings to her lush curves. The collar I so recently placed adorns her neck, drawing my eyes to the graceful line of her throat.

The place I'll soon mark.

Her hair is a waterfall of molten gold, twisted into an elegant partial updo that exposes the creamy expanse of her throat. A sheer veil shrouds her face, but it can't hide the luminous glow of her skin or the soft pink of her lips. She's a fantasy brought to life, an angel descending to earth.

Something clenches in my chest, a traitorous twist of longing. For a split second, I allow myself to imagine it—sinking my teeth into that unblemished flesh, claiming her, making her mine in truth. Waking up every morning to that golden hair spilled out across my pillow, those blue eyes hazy with dreams and desire.

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