Page 81 of Knot Like Other Girls

And I know, with a certainty that shakes me to my core, that I would do anything to protect that smile. To keep her safe and happy.

Even if it means letting her go.

The thought sends a sharp pain through my chest, but I push it aside. Right now, Bella needs protectors, not possessive alphas trying to control her like everyone else does.

So I'll wait.

I'll watch.

And I'll be ready to catch her when she falls.

Because she will fall. The question is, will she let us help her back up? Or will she retreat further into the gilded cage Braxley and their families have built around her?

Only time will tell.

Nineteen hours and forty-three minutes of time, to be exact.

CHAPTER 25

BELLA

Ican tell something isn't right with Braxley the moment I see him.

For one thing, he isn't filming. The content creation room is his sanctuary, his temple of self-worship. He's never in here without at least three cameras running from different angles. But now the equipment stands dormant, lenses capped and ring lights dark.

For another, he looks... disheveled.

And Braxley Worthington III is never disheveled. His usual perfectly styled hair stands in unruly tufts, like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. His designer shirt is wrinkled, and—I blink, not quite believing what I'm seeing—there's a stain on the cuff. An actual stain.

"Braxley?" I ask, hovering in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

He startles at the sound of my voice, spinning around to face me. His eyes are wild, pupils dilated with what looks suspiciously like fear.

"Bella!" He forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

That's another lie. He's been avoiding me all day, making excuses and disappearing whenever I enter a room. I've noticed,of course. How could I not? But I assumed it was just Braxley being Braxley—self-absorbed and wrapped up in his latest social media drama.

"Really?" I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Because it seems like you've been dodging me since breakfast."

He laughs, a high, nervous sound I've never heard from him before. "What? No, of course not. I've just been... busy. Very busy. Important influencer things, you know how it is."

"Right." I don't bother hiding my skepticism. "So what's with the..." I gesture vaguely at his entire appearance. "This. You look like you actually slept in those clothes."

Braxley glances down at himself as if seeing the wrinkles for the first time. A look of genuine horror crosses his face. "Oh my god. I look terrible. I need to change before anyone sees me like this."

He makes a move toward the door, but I don't step aside. Something is definitely wrong, and for once, I'm not going to let him brush me off with excuses about his skincare routine or follower count.

"Braxley, what's going on?" I ask, more firmly this time. "You've been acting weird all day."

He freezes, and for a moment I think he might try to push past me. But then his shoulders slump in defeat. "I... I need to tell you something."

A cold knot forms in my stomach. There's only one reason I can think of for Braxley to look so guilty, so uncharacteristically serious. Actually, two.

He found out who shot at us, or he's cheating.

He gestures to a chair, the expensive ergonomic one he uses during his long filming sessions. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I'll stand." Whatever this is, I have a feeling I'm going to want my feet under me for it.

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