Page 75 of Knot Like Other Girls

"What?" she says innocently. "I'm just stating facts. Those alphas look like they could bench press a car while reciting Shakespeare."

I roll my eyes, but I can't deny the warm feeling that spreads through my chest at her words. Because she's right. The Vanguard Pack isn't just physically imposing, although they certainly are that.

"You're right," I say. "And I do need to figure this out. All of it. Braxley, the Vanguard Pack, what I want for my future. I can't keep living like this, always trying to please everyone else."

Skye grins, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "That's my girl. To new beginnings and telling assholes to fuck off."

I laugh, clinking my cup against hers. "To new beginnings."

Skye leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, are you going to introduce me to these hunky alphas or what? I mean, I've been shamelessly ogling them this whole time. The least you could do is let me actually talk to them."

I laugh, shaking my head at her boldness. But why not? It's not like they haven't been listening to every word we've said anyway. "Alright, alright. I'll call them over. But behave yourself, okay?"

She puts on an exaggerated innocent expression. "Me? I'm always on my best behavior."

"Sure you are," I snort, then turn in my seat. Troy, Liam, and Savva are all pointedly not looking in our direction, but I can see the way their bodies are angled toward us, alert and ready for any sign of trouble. It's both comforting and a little unnerving to be the focus of such intense attention.

I catch Troy's eye and wave him over. He grins, nudging Liam and Savva. As they approach our table, I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach. It's silly—I've been living with these men for days now—but something about introducing them to Skye makes thisall feel more... real. Like I'm acknowledging that they're more than just bodyguards to me.

"Guys," I say as they reach us, "I'd like you to meet my best friend, Skye. Skye, this is Troy, Liam, and Savva."

Skye's eyes go wide as she takes in the full impact of the alphas up close. I can practically see her brain short-circuiting. "Holy shit," she breathes, then claps a hand over her mouth. "I mean, uh, nice to meet you."

Troy laughs, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Nice to meet you too, Skye. Bella's told us a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope," Skye says, recovering some of her usual sass.

"Oh, you know, only the most embarrassing stories," I say with a grin, unable to resist teasing Skye a little. Her eyes widen in mock horror, and I can't help but laugh. It feels good to laugh, to feel normal for a moment.

But even as I banter with Skye and watch her flirt shamelessly with the alphas, I can't shake the undercurrent of anxiety thrumming through my body. The threat of Heather looms large in my mind, a dark cloud on the horizon of this brief moment of levity.

After all, that's why the Vanguard alphas are here.

Troy leans against our table, his easy smile belying the alert gleam in his eyes as he scans the coffee shop. "So, Skye," he says, his voice light but with an undercurrent of something I can't quite place, "Bella tells us you're a nurse. That must be exciting."

Skye snorts, taking a sip of her latte. "Oh yeah, nothing more thrilling than getting pissed and shit on by entitled patients who think five minutes of Googling makes them more qualified than actual medical professionals."

I watch as Troy's grin widens, a spark of genuine interest in his eyes. He and Skye start sharing stories as I relax and listen, sipping my latte and letting my mind wander. It's strange,seeing the Vanguard alphas interact with someone outside our little bubble. A reminder that there's a whole world beyond the penthouse and the Vanguard Pack.

It's strange, but I can't help but feel like something has shifted. The world hasn't changed. Heather is still out there, Braxley is still my almost-fiancé, and I'm still tangled up in a web of family expectations and societal pressures.

But I've changed.

Or maybe I'm just starting to remember who I was before all of this. The Bella who painted for the joy of it, who dreamed of an impossible life filled with love and laughter. She's still in there, buried beneath years of people-pleasing and self-doubt.

And it's time to let her out.

CHAPTER 23

ROMAN

The urge to roll my eyes is stronger than ever as I lean against the wall of Braxley's "content creation studio," half listening as he prattles on about his latest skincare routine. The camera's red light blinks steadily, recording every inane comment and exaggerated facial expression. It's been two hours of this nonsense, and my patience is wearing dangerously thin.

At least I'm not the only one suffering. Cole looks like he's going to die if this doesn't stop. And soon.

"And now, my loves, we come to the holy grail of any alpha's grooming routine," Braxley coos, holding up a small jar of milky white substance that looks suspiciously like semen. "This miracle cream that's illegal in thirty-two countries will tighten your pores, reduce fine lines, and give you that irresistible glow that'll have omegas falling at your feet."

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to point out that no amount of overpriced goop is going to fix what's wrong with him. But I'm a professional, so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the exits. It's my job to keep this insufferable prick alive, not critique his life choices.

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