Page 151 of Knot Happening Again

Troy lunges forward, catching her before she can fall. He scoops her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. "Shit, she's burning up," he says, his voice tight with worry.

I press my hand to her forehead, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. "Fuck…"

The door to the roof slams open. Rhys bursts through, followed by Leon and Mace. Their eyes widen as they take in the scene before them.

"What happened?" Rhys demands, rushing over to where Troy cradles Ophelia like he's holding our entire world in his arms.

And he is.

I open my mouth to explain, but Mace cuts me off. His gaze fixates on the ledge, and he chokes out, "Was she going to...?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "She wasn't—" I pause, realizing I can't be certain. The image of her perched on the edge flashes through my mind, and a chill runs down my back. "I don't think so. She was running from the press. Came up here to get space, I think. Then she collapsed and she's burning up."

"It must be the bond sickness," Rhys murmurs, his voice clinical and professional but laced with the terror we all feel.

Leon's face drains of color. He takes a step forward, then stops, as if an invisible barrier holds him back.

His eyes never leave Ophelia's limp form.

Rhys kneels beside Troy, pressing a hand to Ophelia's forehead. “We need to get her inside. Now."

"How?" Troy asks, his voice strained. "The place is crawling with reporters."

Leon snaps out of his daze. "I know a way," he says. "There's a private area where fighters stay sometimes after a rough match. We can take her there."

"Wait," I say, looking around. "Where is Natalie?"

Rhys and the others hesitate. "I saw her last before the press conference," Rhys admits. "Someone should go check on her. Send for a car to take her home."

"I've got it," Mace grunts, and I'm grateful. I know he doesn't want to leave her side any more than the rest of us do, but someone has to. Ophelia wouldn't want us to leave her friend unattended in this chaos.

The rest of us follow Leon through a maze of corridors, Troy carrying Ophelia as if she weighs nothing. My mind races, trying to piece together what happened. Those betas she mentioned—who were they?

What did they say to her?

Leon leads us to a secluded wing of the arena. The room he takes us to is small but comfortable, with a plush couch and a mini fridge in the corner. Troy lays Ophelia on the couch, and Rhys immediately starts examining her.

I watch Leon hover nearby, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looks like he wants to reach out to her, but something holds him back. Guilt? Fear? Both?

"It's definitely the bond," Rhys confirms, his voice tight with concern. He gently turns Ophelia's head, exposing the side of her neck. I lean in for a closer look and suck in a sharp breath. "I'veheard of this happening before, from a colleague of mine. The mark has become infected."

"How?" I croak. “She was fine.”

But he's right.

The half-formed mark is an angry red, the skin around it inflamed and swollen. It looks painful, infected.

Rhys hesitates. "She was under a lot of stress tonight, and she's off suppressants. They were probably helping."

Leon looks like he wants to crawl under a rock, and I can't say I blame him.

"Shit," Troy mutters, running a hand through his hair. "What do we do?"

Rhys stands up, his expression grim. "We need to bring her fever down. Grab some ice from the mini fridge.”

I nod and hurry to collect some, wrapping it in a paper towel. After bringing the makeshift ice pack back to Rhys, I turn to Leon, who's still frozen in place, staring at Ophelia with a mixture of longing and dread.

"Leon," I say softly, placing a hand on his arm. He flinches, as if coming out of a trance. "You okay?"

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