Page 90 of Knot Happening Again

My stomach drops. Part of me had been hoping for some misunderstanding, some explanation that would make this okay. But the grim set of Rhys's jaw tells me otherwise.

"Tell us everything," I urge, moving closer to Rhys. I want to comfort him, but I'm not sure it would be welcome right now.

Rhys takes a deep breath. "Leon and Ophelia knew each other when they were younger. They had a one-night stand when Leon was home from college. He... he started to mark her, but didn't finish it. Then he left the next morning without a word."

The kitchen falls silent as we process this. I can feel Troy's anger radiating off him, see the disappointment in Mace's eyes. As for me, I'm struggling to reconcile this version of Leon with the man I've known for years. The loyal pack mate, the devoted alpha.

"Why?" Mace asks, his voice rough. "Why would he do that?"

Rhys shakes his head, looking exhausted. "He said he was scared. That he saw Ophelia as something that would chain him to the life his parents wanted. So he ran."

Troy lets out a harsh laugh. "Scared? He ruined her life because he was scared?"

"I know," Rhys says, barely audible. "Trust me, I know."

I watch Rhys carefully as he speaks. His voice is detached, almost clinical as he relays the facts. But I can see the pain in his eyes, the way his hands clench at his sides. This isn't just about Leon's past mistakes. This is about betrayal, about secrets kept from the pack.

"Is that why he's been so against bringing an omega into the pack?" I ask, pieces falling into place. "Because he knew Ophelia was out there?"

Rhys nods. "Apparently, he's been trying to find her. That's where he's been disappearing to lately. He hired a PI, spent time at the Scent Bar hoping to run into her again."

"The Scent Bar?" Mace echoes, frowning.

The realization hits us all at once, and the atmosphere grows even heavier. We already knew she had to work there, doing things that she hated, because of the alpha who marked her. And we just figured out that alpha was Leon. But making the emotional connection for the first time between those two facts…

Fuck, it's rough. I feel a surge of protectiveness toward Ophelia, mixed with deep sadness for what she's been through. And the kind of rage I never imagined I could feel toward my own pack mate. One of my best friends.

"So what now?" Troy asks, breaking the tense silence.

We all turn to Rhys, our alpha, our leader. But for the first time since I've known him, Rhys looks lost. He shakes his head, shoulders slumping. "I don't know," he admits. "We need to get Ophelia through her heat. We'll figure out the rest after that. Right now, I think it's best for Leon not to be here. And he agrees."

Mace pushes off the wall. "I'll make her something to eat for when she wakes up," he says, moving toward the fridge. It's such a Mace thing to do—taking care of others through food—that it almost makes me smile. Almost.

Troy pushes off from the counter. "I'll go upstairs and keep an eye on her," he offers. There's a softness in his voice that I rarely hear, a tenderness that speaks volumes about how much Ophelia already means to him. To all of us.

As they leave, I'm left alone with Rhys. He looks so lost, so unlike the strong, confident alpha I'm used to seeing. I make a decision.

"I'll go check on Leon," I say, moving closer to him. "If that's okay with you?"

Rhys looks at me, gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thanks," he says softly. "I'm not sure where he'll be, though."

I give him a small smile. "I have an idea."

-

I grab my keys and head out. The drive downtown is quiet, the streets nearly empty at this late hour. My mind races as I navigate the familiar route, memories flooding back with each turn.

I pull up outside the old gym where Leon got his start. Where we all met, actually. It's a rundown place, nothing like the high-end facilities Leon trains at now. But I have a feeling this is where he'd go to lick his wounds.

Sure enough, as I walk in, I spot Leon at the far end of the gym. He's pounding a punching bag, his white hair dark with sweat, his tan skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights. The rhythmic thud of his fists against the leather echoes through the nearly empty space.

I nod to the grizzled old man behind the counter—the owner, I remember. We exchange a few words, but his eyes keep darting to Leon. There's concern there, mixed with a hint of pride. He still sees Leon as that scrappy kid who used to sneak in after hours to train.

Finally, I make my way over to Leon. I lean against the ropes surrounding the ring, watching him for a moment. His form is perfect, each punch delivered with precision despite the obvious emotional turmoil behind them.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask, knowing full well what the answer will be.

Leon doesn't pause. "Not really," he grunts, landing a vicious right hook.

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