Page 62 of Knot the One They Want

Is this what we've become? A pack divided, held together by the fragile thread of a single omega? The shame of it burns, hot and caustic.

I stand there for a long moment, a strange sense of foreboding creeping over me like a chill. It's nothing, I tell myself. She's probably just gone to her room to rest after the exhausting dinner. Omegas are delicate creatures, after all.

But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it's a lie. Evie is many things, but delicate isn't one of them. She's strong, resilient, a quiet force to be reckoned with no matter how pristine and perfect she appears on the surface. The uneasyfeeling in my gut intensifies, a knot of dread tightening with each passing second.

Cursing under my breath, I stride down the hallway to look myself. I'm not worried, I insist to myself. I'm just... being thorough. As the pack leader, it's my duty to ensure the safety and well-being of all its members. Even the ones I didn't choose.

As I round the corner, I nearly collide with Lori, the young beta maid. She lets out a startled squeak, her gray eyes wide and nervous. "M-Mr. Blackwood! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

I wave off her apology, my mind already racing ahead. Ellen, the head maid and my eyes and ears around the house, has mentioned that Lori and Evie have been spending a lot of time together lately, thick as thieves. A flash of irritation sears through me at the thought of my omega confiding in a servant rather than her alphas, but I push it aside. Just like I'd push her aside if she tried.

"Have you seen Evie?" I ask, my voice sharp with impatience.

Lori frowns, her brow furrowing. "No, sir. Not since dinner."

Something in her tone gives me pause, a hesitation that sets my teeth on edge. I narrow my eyes, studying her face for any hint of deception. "What is it? If you know something, tell me now."

She fidgets under my scrutiny, her gaze darting away. "I... I wasn't supposed to say anything, but..." She takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "My mistress hasn't been feeling well lately."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. Lake was right. Evie has been off, and I've been too blind to see it.

A thousand scenarios flash through my mind, each more dire than the last. Is she sick? Injured? Has one of the staff threatened her? The thought of anyone laying a hand on hersends a surge of possessive rage through my veins, hot and primal. I told Ellen to keep an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't get too comfortable, but these things have a way of getting out of hand.

Asher's voice rings out from upstairs, urgent and strained. "Damien! Lake! Cole! Get up here, now!"

My heart seizes in my chest, a cold fist of fear squeezing the breath from my lungs. I take the stairs two at a time, my pulse roaring in my ears. Asher never raises his voice, never loses his composure.

If he's shouting now...

I barrel up the stairs, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged animal. Lake nearly bowls me over in his haste, slamming into mine as he races past. Cole is hot on his heels, a blur of dark hair and coiled tension. I grit my teeth, annoyance flaring beneath the mounting anxiety. Always in sync, those two. Always rushing to Evie's side at the slightest provocation.

A small, cynical part of me wonders if this is just another ploy for attention. Daria used to pull stunts like this, feigning illness or distress to make us dance to her tune. The memory leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, the sting of manipulation still fresh after a year.

But as I reach the top of the stairs, the scent of genuine distress hits me like a physical blow. Asher's usual calm, soothing aroma is spiked with sharp notes of panic, underscored by the cloying sweetness of an omega in pain. My stomach lurches, a visceral reaction I can't control.

I push past Cole and Lake, shouldering my way into the bedroom. And then I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up at the sight before me.

Evie lies limp in Asher's arms on the floor of the en suite bathroom, her skin pale as marble and glistening with a sheen of sweat. Her warm hair spills over his arm, a stark contrast tothe ghostly pallor of her face. But it's the angry red marks on her neck that steal the breath from my lungs, along with a bloody coil of bandages resting on the tile, that send a bolt of pure, unadulterated terror straight to my core.

Our incomplete mating marks. They're inflamed, like open wounds rather than the fading scars they should be by now, the skin around them swollen and puckered.

Asher looks up at me, his hazel eyes wide and haunted. "She's burning up," he says, his voice cracking on the words. "I can't wake her, Damien. I can't..."

The rest of his sentence is lost in a choked sob, his shoulders shaking with the force of his fear. Lake and Cole crowd around him, their faces etched with identical expressions of horror and helplessness.

And I just stand there, frozen in place, my mind reeling with the implications of what I'm seeing. Evie, our strong, resilient, defiant omega, reduced to this. Lying unconscious and feverish, her body ravaged by the unfinished bond.

What have we done?

Someone, Lake probably, shouts that he's calling an ambulance, but I stand there frozen as the chaos ensues around me. Only one thought ricochets through my brain. One question.

What haveIdone?

CHAPTER 31

ASHER

Regret sits like a stone in my chest as I stare blankly at the sterile white walls of the hospital corridor. Lake paces restlessly, his brow furrowed with worry. Cole, usually a pillar of strength, looks utterly defeated. Even Damien's icy mask has slipped. I've never seen him look so guilty. So afraid.

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