Page 192 of Knot Happening Again

One thing's for sure: whoever Natalie's working for, whatever their endgame is, they've fucked with the wrong pack. And I'll be damned if I let them hurt our omega again.

Leon starts the engine, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You with me on this?" he asks, his voice tight with barely contained rage.

I nod, a grim smile spreading across my face. "All the way, man. Let's go get some answers."

As we peel out of the parking lot, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. Whatever's coming, it's going to be one hell of a storm. But we'll weather it together. For Ophelia. For our pack.

And God help anyone who tries to stand in our way.

CHAPTER 52

LEON

The neon sign of the Scent Bar flickers overhead as Troy and I approach the entrance. My stomach churns with dread about the fact that I'm about to turn Ophelia's world upside down for a second time. And I have to be sure when I do it. I have to have all the answers.

Most importantly, I have to know why.

I'm sure someone put Natalie up to this. Paid her off. Bribed her. Maybe even blackmailed.

I learned early on there were no shortage of people willing to call themselves your friend only to stab you in the back for a little fame or notoriety. As damning as the evidence looks, I still find myself grasping onto the hope that there's some logical explanation.

It's probably just wishful thinking, the cynical side of my mind warns. There have been so few people in Ophelia's life she could count on. I'm desperate to avoid having to tell her that the woman who's been at her side through some of her biggest challenges has betrayed her.

"You ready for this?" Troy mutters, his usual smirk replaced by a grim determination. We both know what this means for ourgirl. Our omega. Neither of us is looking forward to delivering the news.

I nod, clenching my fists at my sides. "Let's get this over with."

We push through the doors, the scent of artificial pheromones and alpha desperation hitting me like a wall. My eyes scan the dimly lit interior, searching for that familiar red hair. There. Behind the bar, chatting with a customer as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

Natalie's laugh carries across the room, light and carefree. It makes my blood boil. How can she act so normal when she's been selling out her best friend?

And I know firsthand what kind of person Ophelia is when she cares about someone. Kind. Compassionate. And far too forgiving.

As we approach, her eyes land on us. The smile freezes on her face, a flicker of fear passing through her gaze before she masks it with confusion.

"Leon? Troy? What are you doing here?" She tries to keep her voice light, but I can hear the tremor beneath her words.

"Cut the act, Natalie," I growl, leaning against the bar. "We know what you've been up to."

She blinks, her brow furrowing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Troy snorts, pulling out his phone. "Really? Then how do you explain these?"

He slides the device across the bar, displaying a series of incriminating screenshots. Screenshots we've backed up and sent to the other members of the pack already, just in case.

The color drains from Natalie's face as she flips through the images. "This... this isn't what it looks like," she stammers.

"Oh?" I lean in closer, my voice low and dangerous. "Then please, enlighten us. Because from where I'm standing, it lookslike you've been selling out your best friend to the highest bidder."

Natalie's eyes dart around the bar, searching for an escape route. But Troy and I have her cornered. "I... I can explain," she says weakly.

"We're all ears," Troy drawls, his tone deceptively casual. But I can feel the tension radiating off him, matching my own barely contained rage. We may not see eye to eye on pretty much anything, but Ophelia? We're a united front on that subject.

Natalie takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "Look, you don't understand. I was just trying to protect Ophelia."

A harsh laugh escapes me. Does she think that's convincing? "Protect her? By plastering her past all over the tabloids? By ambushing us at every turn?"

The mask slips without any more provocation. Her eyes turn steely, a coldness behind them I'm not used to seeing in an omega's eyes.

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