Page 19 of Knot the One They Want

I can feel every eye in the room on me, waiting with bated breath for my response. My instincts scream at me to run, to flee this gilded cage and the suffocating weight of expectation.

But then I catch sight of my father's face, the hope and pride shining in his eyes. Of Vivienne, her lips pressed into a thin line of warning. Of my siblings, too young to understand the gravity of this moment but sensing the importance all the same.

I'm trapped, as surely as if the collar were already around my neck.

"Yes," I breathe, the word feeling like a hand tightening around my throat. "I accept."

The room erupts in a chorus of cheers and applause, a cacophony of sound that pounds against my skull. But all I can focus on is the feeling of Damien's fingers brushing against my throat as I gather my hair up and he fastens the collar around my neck.

It settles against my skin like a brand, a mark of ownership that sends a shiver down my spine. The collar is lightweight, and it feels as if it was molded perfectly to the curve of my throat, but it feels like a shackle all the same.

I force a smile to my lips as Damien rises to his feet, the picture of the proud alpha claiming his prize. But inside, I'm screaming.

This isn't what I wanted. This isn't the fairy tale romance I've dreamed of, the partnership of equals I'd longed for.

This is a transaction. A business deal sealed with a pretty piece of jewelry and a public spectacle.

I catch Addie's eye across the room, wincing inside at the concern and sympathy etched into her features. She knows me better than anyone, knows the turmoil roiling beneath my carefully crafted facade.

But there's nothing she can do. Nothinganyonecan do.

I'm a Beaumont, and I have a duty to uphold. Even if it means sacrificing my own happiness, my own dreams.

As the alphas of the Blackwood pack surround me, their expressions all varying degrees of unreadable, I feel a sense of numbness settle over me.

This is my life now.

This is my fate.

And as the diamond on my collar catches the light, glittering resplendently, I can't help but think it feels like a beautiful prison.

CHAPTER 8

DAMIEN

The file slaps onto my mahogany desk with a heavy thud. I raise an eyebrow at the private investigator who just walked into my office looking like a cliche in his dark coat and hat, my hand frozen mid-signature on acquisition papers that would expand the Blackwood empire.

"What's this?" My voice is a low growl, daring him to waste my time.

"The girl, sir. Daria Volkov. My team tracked her down."

That name. A phantom blade twists between my ribs. I keep my expression carved from stone, refusing to let the pain bleed through. "And?"

He flips open the manila folder, revealing glossy surveillance photos. Daria walking city streets, a scarf wrapped around her raven hair. Daria outside some rundown coffee shop, a green apron tied at her slender waist.

And Daria with... another man.

Another alpha.

I snatch up a photo, studying this alpha who dares stand so close to her, his hand on the small of her back in one shot.

"Who is he?" The words are bitten off, sharp as fangs.

"Alexei Petrov. A nobody from what I gathered. Works at that same coffee shop."

I scoff harshly. A coffee shop. I would have given her the world on a platinum platter. Draped her in diamonds and furs. And she what, serves lattes to strangers now? She goes to bed with a so-called alpha who lets her work like a dog? The indignity sears like silver.

"Are they together?" I don't want to ask, but I have to know. Bracing for impact like a punch I can't dodge.

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