Page 83 of Knot Like Other Girls

I should be furious. I should be storming out. I know that. Instead, I suddenly feel... relieved. Like a weight I didn't even know I was carrying has been lifted from my shoulders.

"Why now?" I ask. "Why tell me this now, after all this time?"

Braxley shifts uncomfortably. "Roman... found out. He, um, saw some messages on my phone. And he wasn't happy about it."

My eyes widen. "What did he do?"

"Nothing! Well, nothing permanent." Braxley's hand drifts to his throat, and I notice for the first time the faint bruising there. "He just made it clear that I had to tell you the truth. Gave me a deadline and everything."

Of course he would confront Braxley. Of course he would demand honesty. Roman adheres fiercely to his strict moral code.

"So what happens now?" I ask.

Braxley shrugs, looking lost. "I don't know. My parents will be furious if we call off the engagement. The family image and all that. But maybe we could still... I don't know, work something out? A marriage of convenience?"

I stare at him, not quite believing what I'm hearing. "Are you serious right now? You want me to agree to a sham marriage so you can keep hooking up with other people while I, what—sit at home being the perfect omega trophy wife?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"There's no other way to put it, Braxley." I shake my head, a strange lightheadedness sweeping over me. This is it. The last freaking straw. "It's over. Whatever this was, it's done."

To my surprise, he just nods. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that. Can't blame a guy for trying though, right?"

I don't dignify that with a response. The room is suddenly too warm, the air too thick. I need to get out, need to process everything that's just happened.

"I have to go," I mutter, turning toward the door.

"Wait," Braxley calls after me. "One more thing."

I pause, glancing back over my shoulder.

"For what it's worth," he says, "I really am sorry. And I hope... I hope you find someone who makes you happy, Bella. Someone who sees you for who you are. Maybe even a whole pack."

The words strike something deep inside me. An unexpected current of emotion flows through me at the thought of someone who sees the real me. Not the dutiful omega, not the perfect fiancée, but me.

Bella Emerson, with all my strengths and flaws and dreams.

Someone like the Vanguard Pack.

The thought brings with it a wave of heat so intense I have to steady myself against the doorframe.

What the hell was that?

"Are you okay?" Braxley asks, frowning. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," I lie, pressing a hand to my forehead. It's burning up. "Just... a lot to process. I need some air."

I stumble out of the content creation room, making my way toward the living room. Each step seems harder than the last, my limbs growing heavy and uncoordinated. By the time I reach the couch, I'm breathing hard, my skin prickling with strange heat.

What's happening to me?

I collapse onto the couch, closing my eyes against a fresh wave of dizziness. Maybe I'm coming down with something. A fever from the stress of everything that's happened.

But this doesn't feel like any illness I've ever experienced. There's a restlessness in my limbs, an ache building low in my abdomen. And my sense of smell—usually dulled by Braxley's artificial scents—seems suddenly, impossibly sharp.

I can pick out individual notes in the air. Leather from the couch, coffee from the kitchen, the lingering trace of Savva's cologne from when he walked through earlier. And beneath it all, something deeper. A scent I recognize yet can't quite place, growing stronger by the second.

Alpha. But not just any alpha scent. This one's different. Richer, more complex. Like summer fireworks and warm sand, layered with something that makes my pulse quicken and my skin flush hotter.

---