Page 130 of Hard Knot

His brow furrows.

"Replacement?"

"Yeah." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the morning warmth. "Turns out having an Omega for a daughter is quite the scandal in certain circles. Better to adopt someone more...suitable. Someone who won't bring shame to the Abercrombie name."

"It shouldn't be deemed a shame," he mutters, something dark flashing in his good eye.

The words hit harder than expected, making me really think about what I'm saying. About what I've accepted as truth for so long.

"Maybe you're right," I say slowly, testing the words. "But I've never felt bold enough to go back and reclaim my place. Not that I could anyway. The rules about unclaimed Omegas are pretty clear about family contact."

A harsh laugh escapes me.

"You know what's funny? I always thought I'd find the perfect pack, march back home, and show them all that being an Omega doesn't make me less than. Like, 'Hey, look at me now! I'm claimed and cherished and everything you said I couldn't be.'"

My voice cracks slightly.

"But here I am, five years later, still the Forgotten One. Still trying to prove something to people who probably don't even think about me anymore."

The admission hangs in the air between us, heavier than intended.

I hadn't meant to dump all of this on him, especially after last night's breakdown, but something about this space — about him without the blindfold and careful distance — makes honesty feel safer than pretense.

"Sorry," I muttered, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Guess I'm still a bit fever-drunk. Saying things I shouldn't."

His hand catches mine, stopping the nervous gesture. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends electricity skittering across my skin. He doesn't say anything with words, but his gaze — the depth of emotion I can easily read — tells me I shouldn't feel ashamed of stating facts and truths.

The silence stretches between us, not exactly uncomfortable but weighted with unasked questions. Finally, I gather my courage.

"Were you the one who took care of me?" I ask softly. "This whole time?"

He nods, the gesture simple but somehow elegant.

Another blush creeps up my neck as I process this information.

It's strange, being around someone who chooses their silence so carefully.

Almost unsettling, though not in an unpleasant way.

"I used to get fevers like that a lot," I find myself saying, just to fill the quiet void. "Back in school, when I'd push myself too hard. Usually, I could catch the signs early enough to prevent a full breakdown."

I pause, a wry smile tugging at my lips as I correct myself.

"Actually, James would catch them. He always noticed when I was running myself into the ground, even when I tried to hide it. Haven't had one in so long that I guess I forgot to watch for the warning signs."

Holmes continues to watch me, his single visible eye intense in its focus.

The silence starts to feel heavy, making me shift uncomfortably.

"I have no idea what to say now," I admit, laughing nervously. "You're kind of giving me the silent treatment, and I'm not sure if I should keep babbling or just...stop."

His gaze doesn't waver, and something about the steadiness of it makes me want to squirm.

"Right. Okay." I take a small step backward. "I should probably just go back to my room and be a good little Omega until the others return. You know, practice my submissive poses or whatever it is we're supposed to do."

The attempt at humor falls flat, but I'm already turning to leave.

My bare feet shuffle against the polished floor as I move, but something makes me pause at the threshold.

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