Page 32 of Knot Like Other Girls

But I can't.

We can't.

She's our client, for fuck's sake.

And she's engaged to that walking selfie stick.

We file into one of the guest rooms, closing the door behind us. No one seems to know what to say, how to address the elephant in the room.

It's Troy who finally breaks the silence, because of course it is. The lad never could stand an awkward moment.

"So... we're all thinking it, right? That wasn't just me?" He runs a hand through his hair, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. "Bella, she's our..."

"Scent match," Roman finishes, his voice low and tight. "Yes. It appears so."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Thank fuck I'm not going mad. The others felt it too.

"But how is that even possible?" Savva asks, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. "We shouldn't even be able to smell her properly with all that shit Worthington's pumping through the vents."

As if on cue, a particularly strong waft of whatever godawful scent Braxley's chosen washes over us. It's like a mix of strawberry syrup, alcohol, and musky cologne. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"Shit," Troy mutters, already moving toward the air vent. “I'm closing this fucking thing before my nose rots off from the inside out.”

"You can't just mess with the client's property," Roman warns, but there's no real heat behind it. He looks as nauseated by the smell as the rest of us.

Troy ignores him, fiddling with the vent cover. "Watch me. I'm calling it a security measure. Can't protect anyone if we're too busy gagging on Eau de Douchebag."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I feel a chuckle bubbling up in my chest. Leave it to Troy to find humor in the midst of chaos.

But the levity is short-lived. As Troy finally manages to close the vent, cutting off the worst of the smell, we're left with the reality of our situation.

"What are we going to do?" I ask, voicing the question we're all thinking. "About Bella, I mean."

Roman shakes his head, looking more lost than I've ever seen him. "I don't know. This isn't exactly a scenario covered in our training."

"There’s nothing to be done," Cole says flatly. His mismatched eyes are hard, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "She's our client. She’s engaged. End of story."

“Technically, she didn’t say yes to him yet. And she isn’t marked,” Troy shoots back. “If she's our scent match?—”

“It doesn't matter. You can't give an omega a stable life anyway,” Cole interrupts.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, because part of me knows he's right. Our lives are chaos, danger around every corner. How could we ever offer an omega the kind of stability they deserve? Especially one already used to a pampered, comfortable life.

But then I think about the sadness in her eyes, the way she flinched at Braxley's touch. The thought of leaving her in this gilded cage makes me want to put my fist through a wall.

"What do you mean, we can't?" Troy challenges, rounding on Cole. "You're part of this pack too. Don't think you're getting out of this that easily."

Cole just shrugs, his expression unreadable. "She wouldn't want me. No omega would. So I'm clearly not part of the discussion," he mutters.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Troy argues, taking a step toward Cole. "You don't get to decide what she wants. And you sure as hell don't get to exclude yourself from this pack."

"Enough," Roman interjects, his voice cutting through the argument. "We're not going to solve anything by arguing amongst ourselves. We need to approach this rationally."

"Rationally?" I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "Roman, there's nothing rational about this situation. We've just met an omega who's somehow a scent match for all of us. An omega who's engaged to a man who treats her like a bloody accessory. How exactly are we supposed to be rational about that?"

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he's fighting off a headache. "I know, Liam. Believe me, I know. Butwe have a job to do. We can't let our... personal feelings interfere with that."

"And what about Bella's feelings?" Savva asks quietly. We all turn to look at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. Savva's usually the calm one, the voice of reason. But now there's a fire in his eyes I've never seen before. "Did you see the way she looked when Braxley touched her? The way she flinched? That's not the reaction of a woman in love."

---