Page 123 of Knot Like Other Girls

"What else don't I know about you guys?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Cole's expression softens slightly. "Guess we'll figure that out over the next couple of weeks."

"Guess so," I agree, smiling as I move to the window to take in the view that will greet me every morning. "I've never lived anywhere like this," I admit quietly. "It's so... peaceful."

Cole moves to stand beside me, his large frame radiating heat that I can feel even without touching him. "That's why we bought it. After enough time in war zones, peace becomes a priority."

It's the most he's said at once since we arrived, and I treasure these small insights into who he is beneath the silence.

"What's the rest of the cabin like?" I ask, turning away from the window.

Cole leads me back into the hallway, pointing out more features as we go. "Bathroom there. Linen closet. Emergency exit." He gestures to each door or passage with military precision. "Roman's room's at the end, next to the office.”

I follow him back toward the main living area, where activity has increased in our absence. Liam has returned from his perimeter check and is now helping Troy in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and making smalltalk with him. Savva perches at a desk in the corner, surrounded by multiple screens and equipment I can't even begin to identify, his fingers flying over keyboards as he sets up what must be their communication systems.

Roman stands at the center island, papers spread before him, writing something in a notebook. He looks up when we enter, his golden eyes meeting mine with a warmth that makes my stomach flutter.

"Getting settled?" he asks.

I nod. "The place is amazing. How long have you had it?"

"Three years," Roman answers, his attention returning to his notes. "Bought it after a rough job in Caracas. Needed somewhere... removed."

"We all pitched in," Troy adds from where he's stirring something on the stove that smells absolutely heavenly. "Pooled our funds from that security gig with the tech billionaire. Remember that guy? The one with the collection of taxidermied animals with human teeth?"

"Hard to forget," Liam mutters, dicing an onion with frightening efficiency.

I smile at their easy banter, at the way they move around each other with the synchronicity of people who have worked and lived together for years. There's a comfort in watching them, in being allowed to witness this side of them that I suspect few—if any—outsiders ever see.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask, feeling suddenly useless amidst all their purposeful activity.

"You're our guest," Roman says immediately.

"Honored guest," Savva adds from across the room without looking up.

"Actually," Troy interjects, "there's a bottle of white wine in the fridge that would go great with dinner. Why don't you pour everyone a glass?"

Roman doesn't contradict him, so I move to the refrigerator, finding the bottle of wine exactly where Troy said it would be. I retrieve it while Cole gets glasses from a cabinet, lining them up on the counter.

I pour the wine carefully, filling each glass about halfway. The bottle is high quality—way beyond my budget, but probably pocket change for men who could afford a private mountain retreat with security that would "make the Pentagon jealous." The crisp, fruity scent wafts up as I pour, reminding me of all the fancy dinner parties my parents dragged me to when trying to impress potential business connections.

"Thanks," Roman says as I hand him a glass, our fingers brushing for the briefest moment. Even that small contact sends a little jolt of awareness through me. Every interaction with these alphas feels charged with meaning, weighted with the knowledge of what we are to each other.

I distribute the remaining glasses, leaving Cole for last. He accepts his with a small nod, those mismatched eyesnever leaving my face. The intensity of his gaze should make me uncomfortable—would have, once—but now I find myself leaning into it, craving the connection.

"To new beginnings," Savva proposes, raising his glass in a toast. The dying sunlight catches in the wine, turning it to liquid amber. He stands beside his computer setup, elegant as always, his long auburn hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

"New beginnings," I echo, clinking my glass against his. The others join in, and the resonant sound of glass touching glass fills the warm kitchen.

I take a small sip, savoring the crisp flavor. It's been so long since I've had anything just for the pleasure of it. Braxley's world was all about appearances—food and drink categorized as either "on brand" or not, every consumption opportunity a chance for content creation.

Here, with this pack, I can just... enjoy.

Troy has returned to his bubbling pot, stirring with practiced ease. "Liam, can you grab the breadbasket and butter from the fridge?" he calls over his shoulder.

"Need anything from me?" I ask, eager to feel useful.

Troy glances up, his boyish grin flashing. "You could chop those herbs if you want. Nothing fancy, just rough is fine."

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