Page 37 of Knot My Luck

Silent, wrecked sobs that shake her shoulders, her body trembling under the weight of something I should have protected her from.

Lorcan reaches her first, his knuckles rapping against the window. “Red?”

Pet names already?A sharp, possessive growl curls in my throat before I can stop it. My jaw locks, my hands curling into fists.

She doesn’t react at first, then she scrubs at her face, rolling the window down just enough to speak. Her voice is raw, wrecked. “Go away, Lorcan.”

His brows knit together. He glances at me, uncertain.

I don’t hesitate. “Give us a minute.”

“She’s upset?—”

“I know.”

A beat of hesitation. Then something in my voice must settle it because Lorcan exhales sharply and steps back.

But not without a warning.

“Don’t fuck it up. Don’t you dare do anything to make this worse. Or we won’t forgive you.”

I don’t look at him. My focus is locked on her. Only her.

I open the passenger door and slide in beside her.

The scent of her tears is thick in the air, laced with frustration and exhaustion and something deeper – something instinctual that calls to every primal part of me. My body locks up at the scent, my muscles coiling tight.

Devlin stiffens beside me but doesn’t tell me to leave.

It’s not permission.

But it’s not rejection either.

And that’s enough.

I wait a moment as Lorcan and my brother eyeball me through the windscreen. My muscles coil tight, my wolf riding me hard, but I force myself to exhale slowly before frowning at them and making a sharp shooing motion with my hands.

Thankfully, they get the hint. They hesitate, but eventually turn and walk away, their footsteps crunching against the gravel.

Good.

I release a deep breath and turn to Devlin—only for my chest to tighten at the wrecked look on her face.

I hate seeing her like this. Hate the tears clinging to her lashes, the way her shoulders shake as she fights to keep it together. Every instinct in me is screaming to fix it. To make it better. To makeherbetter. My girl. My heart. My omega. Mine.

“Come here,” I command, reaching for her.

She resists for half a second. Just long enough for her pride to make a stand before it crumbles beneath the weight of everything she’s holding back. Then she’s falling into my arms, her entire body wracked with silent, shuddering sobs.

I pull her over the center console with ease, cradling her in my lap, wrapping myself around her like I can shield her from everything hurting her. One hand cups the back of her head, fingers threading through her soft, dark hair. The other splays against her back, pressing her closer, feeling every tremor wracking her small frame.

She cries into my chest, fists clenching my shirt like she needs something to hold onto. I don’t say a word. Just hold her. Let her get it all out. Let her feel safe.

Minutes pass, or maybe a lifetime. Her breathing evens, though her grip on me doesn’t loosen. My purr rumbles to life, deep and steady, vibrating through my ribs into hers.

She shifts slightly, tilting her head up. Her eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted, her lips parted like she wants to speak but doesn’t quite have the strength.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she protests.

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