Page 70 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

RUBY

My hands are shaking so bad, I nearly drop the keys to my bar. I glance around Winterscape Bar, my baby, the one thing I’ve poured my heart into and my last real connection to Aunt Eve.

God, I miss Ash today. He’s been my rock through this whole mess, telling me to woman up and hear them out. Easy for him to say—he’s not the one who got played by three gorgeous Alphas. Even if they were just doing Lily and Hannah a favor...

Speaking of my well-meaning but completely insane best friends, at least I’ll get proper answers from Lily tonight since she’s back home from her work trip. Four days of crying into my pillow is probably enough, right? Four days of ignoring messages from the three men is ripping me apart. Their scents are still everywhere.

Nope. Not going there.

I pull my hood up against the snow, watching the festive lights flicker through the storm like multicolored fireflies.All I Want for Christmasis belting out from the street speakers, and I can’t help but snort. Yeah, all I want for Christmas is not to lose my bar to my douchebag cousin Marcus in four days. Oh, and maybe for my heart to stop feeling like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

The snow’s coming down in thick flakes now, turning everything into a weird winter snow globe. A few cars crawl past, probably full of people headed home to their normal, drama-free lives. Must be nice.

“Okay, Ruby, get your ass in gear. Just cross the street. Even you can’t mess that up.”

I step out from under the awning and… holy shit!

Headlights blind me as a van swerves way too close, way too fast. I stumble back, heart in my throat, but before I can even process what’s happening, the side door flies open with a screech that sets my teeth on edge.

Black emptiness. A figure in a mask. Hands grabbing me—rough, strong, wrong.

I scream and kick out like a wildcat, but it’s like fighting a brick wall. The world spins as I’m yanked into the van, and something clamps over my nose and mouth. The smell hits me—sickly sweet, chemical—making my head swim.

“Get off me, you—” The words slur, my tongue feeling too thick. The door slams shut, and darkness closes in, even as I try to fight it. My last coherent thought before everything goes black is that I guess the universe wasn’t satisfied with just taking my bar and my love life—it had to go for the hat trick.

21

GARRETT

My fingers drum against the desk in my office, each tap echoing my growing frustration. Five fucking days of radio silence from Ruby, and it’s eating me alive. The snow’s been coming down hard outside, turning the brewery’s courtyard into a winter wasteland that matches my mood.

Knox hasn’t stopped pacing since he got here. His usual easy-going nature is nowhere to be found. He’s all tense shoulders and grinding teeth as he stares out the window. Even his designer outdoor gear looks rumpled, as if he’s been sleeping in it. Knowing him, he probably has.

“I can’t take this anymore.” Knox turns, raking his hands through his already messy hair. “Sure, we’re giving her space and time, but she’s fucking ignoring our messages and calls. I’ve done fuck all since she found out we planned our dates with her. And I’ve been such a mess.”

I get it. My brewery crew’s been giving me a wide berth lately. Apparently, I’ve been a bear to work with. The latest batch of stout needs testing, but I can’t focus on shit. Every flavor reminds me of her.

Dominic’s sprawled on my leather armchair, but there’s nothing relaxed about him. His dark eyes are sharp as ever, and his fingers keep twitching toward his phone. Guy’s probably fighting the urge to hack into every security camera in town just to get a glimpse of her.

“We’re in the same damn boat,” he says, his voice rough. “And I agree. I want to go see her again. We’ve given her time, and I need to explain our part.” He sits forward, jaw tight. “Fuck, I want to apologize, to make her know we fucked up. And you know I’m not a man who apologizes lightly.”

The leather of my chair creaks as I lean back against my window. Cold seeps through my flannel shirt, but I barely notice it. My brewing notebook’s been sitting untouched in my back pocket for days—can’t think about new recipes when all I can taste is guilt.

“I’m ready,” I say, surprising myself with how raw my voice sounds. “This waiting game is fucking strangling me.” The words barely leave my mouth when a knock comes from the room. “Come in,” I call out, expecting one of my brewers with a crisis.

Instead, Cindy, my assistant, pokes her head in. Behind her stands Ash, Ruby’s bartender, looking like he hasn’t slept all night. My stomach drops. Whatever brings him here can’t be good.

“He insisted on talking to you,” Cindy says, worry creasing her forehead as she pushes her mousey blonde hair out of her face.

The moment Ash steps into my office, I stiffen, on high alert. Knox stops pacing, and Dominic straightens in his chair.

“Ruby’s missing,” he says.

Two words. Just two fucking words and my world tilts sideways.

The words turn my veins to ice, and I’m across the room before I realize I’ve moved.

“What do you mean, missing?”

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