Page 1 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

Chapter 1

She Knows

We fucked up.

There’s no denying it.

Every step with Haven has been one massive screw up.

Not every step.

We did the right thing approaching her, getting to know her, pursuing her. I don’t regret that in the slightest. She’s a spot of sunshine in the darkness that has been my life for the last ten years. She’s the sugar in my coffee. The honey in my tea. She’s so fucking sweet.

I can’t imagine not having the sweetness in my life now.

But I might have to figure out really quick how to live without it.

She knows.

She knows we started this thing with her as a game. She found the spreadsheet that we were using to tally points, to see which of us would win the prize. She saw the videos and the pictures, saw how we approached her thinking she’d be nothing more to us than a pawn, a game piece to move around a board in a game she had no clue we were playing.

But she still doesn’t know the full truth, why we did this. Maybe to her is doesn’t matter, maybe this is the end of what could have been the most beautiful fucking thing in my life. Smothered before it had a chance to fully bloom.

I refuse to believe that. Though. If I do, I might not be able to do what needs to be done, to find her, to explain. Once we do that, she’ll understand. I have to believe that.

Haven might never know why we did what we did, if we can’t fucking find her.

If she doesn’t give us a chance to explain.

Fuck. I hope she gives us a chance to explain.

In a very short amount of time, Haven Bell becamenecessaryto me. As necessary as air in my lungs and food in my belly. I need her to survive. Even if my body keeps going, keeps moving, I won’t really be living.

“Call Florence,” Hale demands of me, and I blink back to myself. To the situation right in front of me.

Our girl is gone. Slipped out into the night while we stood around like a bunch of assholes with our dicks in our hands. She left us. And it’s our fucking fault.

I pull out my phone, navigating to Haven’s best friend’s number and hitting dial. It rings and rings. Not surprising if Haven told her what we did. I doubt Ren pick up for any of us if she knows how we hurt her girl.

I shake my head and drop the cell to my side when she doesn’t pick up. “She’s not answering.”

Hale jabs a finger at me.

“Keep calling. Bug the shit out of her until she has no choice but to answer.”

It won’t do any good, but I have to do something, so I call her again. Creed’s already moving toward the door, hooking his coat off the back of a chair and heading toward the garage. Hale’s right on his heels. “Watch the security footage. Find out when she left. What direction she went in. Tell us if you find anything.”

Jude already has his laptop on the dining room table, scanning through the last thirty minutes of footage. His scent is bitter, sour, making my stomach turn nauseous, but I know mine isn’t much better, worry making it curdle like milk left out on a hot day.

I call Florence again. Lifting the cell to my ear as I head upstairs to Haven’s room. The shower is still running in her en suite and I need to turn it off. But as soon as I set foot in her room, I’m assaulted by her scent, pineapple and smoked chili. The more recent notes are bitter, with anxiety and stress. But under it, there’s her normal sweet scent, the one that makes my mouth water. But now it makes tears prick my eyes as longing wells up.

I want my fucking omega back. I want her here with me right now. I want to know she’s safe and taken care of. Even if she’s pissed off at us, angry as hell, I just need her to be where I can watch her, see her, verify that she’s actually okay.

Jaw tensing, I move into the steam-filled bathroom and flick off the shower. All of her products still line the counter, the shelves. I move back into her bedroom and into the closet, finding all of her clothes still hanging or neatly folded. On the foot of the bed is a duffle bag filled with her journals. She’d obviously planned on taking those with her but decided against it.

BunBun is gone. And resting in his place is her phone. The new one we bought her that her father doesn’t have the number to.

I swipe it up and carry it with me downstairs, dialing Ren again.

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