Page 118 of Hard Knot

Unconsciously, my hand is already on my scared eye, the mere touch making me flinch on reflex. A dark chuckle leaves me before I sigh.

“Death better have claimed her that day,” I whisper like I’m spitting venom, as my eye narrows. “Or else, I’ll have to do what I was such a coward to achieve the first time around.”

My eyes return to the sleeping Omega, and I allow my gaze to soften without all the hate she never deserved.

"I deserve to be happy, too…” I quietly vow, hoping to convince myself. “The past can’t determine the future I seek. Stop letting it, Holmes.”

It’s a promise I can only hope I can keep to myself.

The Plague Of The Past

~ELIZABETH~

The fever drags me under, pulling me back to that day at Harvard --- the day that changed everything. The memories surface like drowning victims, bloated and distorted by time but no less horrifying.

I'm running.

The elegant hallways of Harvard blur past me as I flee, my feet pounding against the polished marble floors. Each step echoes like a thunderclap in my ears, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart.

Something's wrong.

So terribly wrong.

My skin feels like it's on fire, burning from the inside out. Sweat trickles down my spine despite the building's climate control, and there's an ache deep in my core that makes me want to crawl out of my own flesh.

The perfume I'd sprayed this morning — a light, floral scent my mother had given me — now seems to chase me down the corridor like a ghost, mixing with something else. Something sweeter, heavier, more primal.

The aroma chases me. So thick and intense, leaving a trail behind that almost makes me feel sicker than I’m currently experiencing.

My scent.

But that's impossible because I'm not...

I can't be...

Another wave of heat crashes through me, making my knees buckle. I catch myself against the wall, my palm sliding against the cool surface as I fight to stay upright. My reflection in a nearby window shows a stranger -— face flushed, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with each desperate breath.

"No," I whisper, the word catching in my throat. "Please, no..."

I know what these signs mean.

What they’re meant to portray.

Something I thought I’d never be a victim of.

Yet…it’s happening.

My body betrays me, another pulse of need making me whimper. The sound echoes in the empty hallway, too loud, too vulnerable.

I have to get out of here.

Have to find somewhere safe.

The construction site.

The thought comes suddenly, a lifeline in the chaos. They're renovating the east wing --- empty rooms, sparse foot traffic, plenty of places to hide until...until what?

Until this passes?

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