Page 3 of Knot Happening Again

I find Natalie at the bar, chatting with one of the regulars. She spots me and excuses herself, hurrying over with concern written all over her face.

"Effy? Are you okay? You look pale."

I force a smile. "I'm fine, Nat. Just... tired, I guess."

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. Instead, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Temporary Bonds brochure again. "Here," she says, pressing it into my hand. "Just… think about it, okay? You don't have to decide anything now."

I nod, too exhausted to argue. I slip the brochure into my purse, telling myself I'll throw it away later.

But even as I think it, I know I won't.

The rest of the night passes in a haze of drinks and false smiles. By the time last call rolls around, I'm more than ready to go home. I say goodbye to Natalie, promising to text her when I get home safe.

The cool night air is a relief after the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. I walk briskly, my heels clicking against the pavement, eager to put as much distance between myself and the Scent Bar as possible.

At home, I go through my nightly routine on autopilot. Shower, moisturize, brush teeth. But as I'm about to climb into bed, my eyes land on my purse. Before I can talk myself out of it, I dig out the Temporary Bonds brochure.

I sit on the edge of my bed, turning the glossy paper over in my hands. It's everything Natalie said it was and more.

It's a nice, modern looking building in a trendy area downtown where some tech geniuses have figured out an algorithm to match unmated omegas with packs for temporary arrangements.

No strings attached.

But all the packs are carefully vetted for safety, and supposedly, the algorithm and the forms you fill out ensure a high rate of compatibility. Omegas always have complete discretion when it comes to accepting a pack or not. And the first meeting is always held at the Temporary Bonds office, so there's no pressure or safety concerns.

The promises it makes seem too good to be true.

Safe, professional, discreet.

A way to get through my heats without the pain and loneliness I've grown accustomed to.

But can I really trust it?

Can I trustanyoneafter what Leon did to me, even on a temporary basis?

I think about my upcoming heat, about the agony that awaits me if I face it alone. And the potential risks if I keep taking these suppressants.

With a sigh, I reach for my phone. And then I change my mind.

There's no way this is legit. If life has taught me one thing, it's that if something seems too good to be true, it always is.

Especially when it comes to alphas.

CHAPTER 2

LEON

Bam.

Bam.

Bam.

My fists slam into the punching bag, each impact registering on the digital display. The numbers flash, mocking me.

Not good enough.

Never good enough.

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