Page 100 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

I make myself stay still, waiting, waiting, waiting, until I hear the faint order, “Enter.”

I keep my steps slow and measured as I head toward my father’s voice, through the stainless steel kitchen into what used to be the dining area. It’s dark, the windows facing the street boarded over. Someone has set up a few of those utility lamps that builders and mechanics use, the ones with a cage around thelight and a hook to hold them wherever you need it. I sincerely doubt it was my father.

The tile floor is dirty, but I see lines where a chair has been dragged. So she’s not in the freezer, which must mean she’s still alive. God, I hope she’s alive.

And sure enough, when I lift my eyes, there she is, slumped in the same chair, chin pressed to her chest, blond hair limp with sweat. I carefully avoid looking below her shoulders. The last thing I need is to see the mess he’s made of her knee. I will not be able to maintain a calm exterior if I do. Instead, I look at the small two-seater table next to her, the assortment of tools strewn over the top of it, including the sledgehammer used in the video.

The sound of a dress shoe on the tile draws my attention to the man I hate with my whole heart. He should have been the one person to love me beyond all reason, should have taken care of me and cared about my happiness more than anything else. He should have been the one person I could trust with anything, and instead, I feel nothing but loathing when I look at him.

Any small portion of me that sought his approval, that secretly still hoped for some kind of redemption or reconciliation, shattered right along with my best friend’s knee.

His lip curls as he takes me in. My jeans, the long man’s sweater and winter jacket, the scarf around my neck. Hair tossed into a haphazard bun. I look nothing like the daughter he wants and his expression makes that clear.

“Come here, Haven,” my father commands and my feet move. I don’t fight it, not even a little. Why would I? This is why I’m here.

Florence’s head bobs at the sound of my name, and then she’s peering up at me with tears in her eyes. “No,” she moans. “No. You shouldn’t have come.”

“Shut up, Ren. As if I would leave you with him.” Kneeling next to her, I avoid looking too closely at the mess that is herknee. I reach up and smooth her sweat slicked hair back from her face, meeting her pain drenched eyes. I hope she can see how steady I am, how sure I am. “You’re gonna be just fine,” I tell her. “I’m getting you out of here, okay?”

Her cheek presses into my palm, and she nods slightly.

I blow out a breath and push to my feet, positioning myself between her and the madman that is my father. He’s never going to hurt her again. Never going to hurt me again.

He watches as I position myself, feet planted wide, chin tipped up. A snarl curls his lip. “It took you long enough to get here.” His voice is thick with disappointment that would have had me dropping my gaze to the floor, making myself small and timid.

I arch a brow, refusing to cower in front of him. Never again will I do that. Never. A-fucking-gain.

“Apologies. It took a while to figure out where the hell you were, since you didn’t tell me.”

His brows drop and I can see his brain working, trying to remember if he had sent me an address or not. He didn’t. That he can’t remember that fact makes me more than a little nervous. So does the scent wafting off him. It’s… wrong somehow. Bitter and acrid, too sharp. A blaring a warning that this alpha is on the verge of being unhinged. Feral.

My omega is clawing at me to get out. Away. Away. Away. It takes every ounce of my past training to keep my voice level and my expression neutral.

I glance around the empty room. There’s only the three of us. Which is good. Very good. If he’d brought in extra security, I’m not sure what I would have done. But his hubris is big enough that he thinks he can handle two omegas all on their own.

I send a feeling of security to my alphas, knowing they’ll understand what I mean, and they send back a feeling of reassurance.

“So, what’s the plan here?” I ask, resting my hands on my hips, hoping it hides their shaking. “You gonna kidnap both of us, lock us up for all time?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No. You are going to return to me as the dutiful daughter you’ve always been. Florence will remain in our house as an incentive for you to continue as you should have been. There’s still time for you to make it up to me, Haven.”

I stare at him. “Make it up to you?”

He nods. “Yes, you’ve been such a disappointment. Your mother would hate what you’ve become. A whore for a pack of wild beasts.”

The insult rolls off me, like water off a duck’s back, and plops ineffectually on the floor. “Let’s talk about my mother,” I say, tilting my head. “Let’s talk about how she was a late blooming omega. How you locked her in a sex club for years as your own private little whore. Let’s talk about how you killed her, because you couldn’t stand that she wasn’t your perfect beta wife. That youbondedher.”

He looks shocked that I know this much about a woman I barely remember. But the expression only lasts for about a half second before he buries it. “Your mother isn’t important. Your submission is.You will come with me now to give a statement to the police about how the Calloway pack kidnapped you.”

I chuckle humorlessly and shake my head and the command does absolutely nothing. “No. I won’t.”

Again, surprise flickers over his face before it’s swallowed by rage. “You know what this means for Florence, don’t you, Haven?”

I shrug. “I know what you think it means. But I’m not going to tell the police that my pack kidnapped me. I doubt they’d believe you anyway, when they see the matching mating bites we all have.”

“Mating bites?” He stutters.

I left my left hand and tug down the scarf, revealing Hale and Creed’s bites on either side of my throat. “Yep.”

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