Page 189 of Knot Like Other Girls

"This is… unexpected," I say flatly.

Can I laugh at this?

ShouldI laugh at this?

Because of all the curveballs the universe has thrown me, this is possibly the one I least expected.

But before I can process this further, another commotion erupts behind us. Heather Donovan pushes through the crowd, her platinum hair bouncing wildly as she storms toward us, as her personal photographer scrambles to keep up.

Pack Vanguard forms a protective wall around me.

"What the hell is this?" she shrieks, her perfect makeup contorted in rage as she takes in Braxley fawning over Ashlyn. "Are you kidding me right now, Brax? First that pathetic omega, and now her attention whore sister?"

Braxley barely glances at her. "Not now, Heather."

"Not now?" She laughs, the sound high and brittle. "I've been waiting for years! I've done everything for you!"

The crowd around us grows, people pretending not to stare while absolutely drinking in every moment of this public meltdown. My parents hover at the edge, their faces a mix of confusion and horror.

"Including hiring a hitman?" Savva asks calmly, his voice cutting through Heather's hysterics.

The room goes still. Heather's face drains of color.

"What are you talking about?" she says, her voice suddenly too light, too casual.

"In Spain," Savva continues, his elegant posture belying the venom in his words. "The attempted assassination that Bella and Braxley so narrowly escaped."

"That—that's ridiculous," Heather stammers. "Why would I?—"

"You've been obsessed with Braxley for a long time," Roman adds, practically growling. "You couldn't stand that he chose someone over you, could you?"

Braxley finally seems to register what's happening, but his reaction is to laugh nervously. "That isn't true, is it, Heather?" he asks, his voice rising a few octaves.

"No!" she protests, too quickly. "Of course not. I would never—" She stops, recalculates, then sighs angrily. "I told him to miss on purpose. It was just supposed to scare this vapid omega off. Not my fault he was a bad shot."

The crowd gasps. My mouth falls open at her casual admission.

Braxley's reaction, however, is what truly stuns me. His eyes light up, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You did that... forme?"

"Of course I did," Heather says, gaining confidence. "I would do anything for you, Brax. I always have."

"That's..." He shakes his head, looking genuinely moved. "That's the most flattering thing anyone's ever done for me. I mean, you'reclearlyinsane and you need to be behind bars, but you do have style. I'll give you that."

I can't help the strangled sound that escapes me. "You can't be serious."

"She wasn't trying to kill us," Braxley says dismissively. "I knew she wasn't. Just wanted to scare you off. There's a difference." He glances warily at the alphas surrounding me. "Guess you were tougher than she thought."

Savva steps forward smoothly, phone in hand. "As fascinating—and bewildering—as this confession is, I've recorded it." He gestures around the ballroom. "As have, I'm sure, numerous other guests with their phones."

Heather's face crumples as she finally comprehends her situation. "No, wait, I wasn't serious! I was just—it was for content! For the views!"

As if on cue, two uniformed officers appear, flanked by hotel security. Roman gestures them over with a subtle nod. "This woman, Heather Donovan, just confessed to orchestrating the assassination attempt on Mr. Worthington in Spain last month," he informs them.

“The Third,” Braxley adds.

The police move swiftly, taking a now-hysterical Heather by the arms. "You don't understand," she shrieks as they lead her away. "You don't know who I am! How many followers I have! I’m a Great Life Brand Ambassador!”

Her angry cries echo through the ballroom as she's escorted out, her photographer chasing after them to make sure he milks every last picture he can out of this.

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