Page 97 of Knot Like Other Girls

As I prepare the tea, I consider the most logical approach to this conversation. There are immediate practical concerns to address, but there are also larger implications that cannot be ignored.

"Here," I say, placing a steaming cup in front of Bella before distributing mugs of oolong for the rest of us. The best thing to soothe frayed alpha nerves.

She cups her hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. "Thank you."

I take a seat across from her, choosing my words carefully. "There are several matters we should discuss. The most immediate being your situation with Braxley."

Bella's lips press into a thin line. "It wasn't much of a relationship to begin with," she says softly. "More of a business arrangement disguised as an engagement. My family wanted the connection to his money and influence. His family wanted a presentable omega for their alpha son." Her voice takes on a bitter edge. "Neither of us was particularly invested emotionally."

"And now?" Roman asks, his question encompassing far more than just her relationship status.

Bella takes a sip of tea, gathering her thoughts. "Now I'm... free, I suppose. Free and dealing with the fact that apparently five alphas are my scent matches." She glances at Cole as he comes back into the kitchen, and he stiffens under her gaze but doesn't move away. Not when she gives him another sweet smile that very nearly makes me jealous. "It's a lot to process."

"We should discuss arrangements," I say, redirecting the conversation to practical matters. "Where do you want to spend your heat? If the penthouse is familiar to you…"

Bella shakes her head, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "No, I don't want to stay here. This place is just Braxley's. I haven’t been living here for long.”

Her words settle something in my chest, a tension I hadn't realized I was carrying. The thought of her remaining in Braxley's territory during her heat had felt fundamentally wrong on an instinctual level, though I would have respected her choice.

"We have a safe house," Roman says, leaning forward slightly. "Secure, private. No one knows about it except the five of us."

"And now Bella," Troy adds with a small smile.

I nod, already mentally cataloging what we'll need to prepare. "It's comfortable, well-stocked. And completely off the grid. No social media influencers within a fifty-mile radius."

That earns a small, musical laugh from Bella. "That sounds perfect," she says, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "When can we go?"

"As soon as you feel up to traveling," I reply, keeping my tone measured despite the alpha instinct urging me to move her to safety immediately. "The suppressants should stabilizeyour condition for the rest of the night. Long enough to make arrangements and transport you safely. We have a private jet."

"What about Braxley?" she asks, and I detect no lingering attachment in her voice. Merely practical concern.

"We'll make arrangements for him as well," Roman says, his voice carefully neutral. "Another security team can take over his protection. Our priority is you."

Liam shifts, his massive frame tense. "He's not your responsibility, lass. Not now, not ever. You don't need to worry about him."

"I know," she mutters. "But there's still someone out there who tried to kill us. I don't want his blood on my hands, even if he is a self-absorbed narcissist."

Her compassion, even for someone who has treated her poorly, speaks volumes about her character. It's a trait I've always admired but rarely encountered. The ability to maintain empathy even when it's not deserved.

"We'll ensure his safety," I assure her. "There are other teams we can call in. Professionals we trust."

She nods, some invisible weight lifting from her shoulders. "Thank you."

Cole, who has been hovering at the edge of our group like a thundercloud, finally speaks. "What do you need to take with you?" His voice is rough but gentle in a way I've never heard from him before.

I watch Bella's face carefully as she considers Cole's question. There's a brief flash of uncertainty before her expression settles into something more determined.

"Not much," she says, twisting her hands in her lap. "Most of my things are still in boxes. I never really unpacked here. It never felt..." She trails off, but we all understand the unspoken word.

Home.

If only she knew just how much we understand.

"Just the essentials then," I suggest, mentally cataloging what she might need. "Clothing, toiletries, any medications. We can provide everything else."

Troy perks up, his energy instantly shifting from anxious to enthusiastic. "We've got a fully stocked kitchen at the safe house. I can make those pancakes you liked. And there's this little farmer's market nearby where we can get fresh shit."

The corners of Bella's mouth lift slightly at Troy's eagerness. It's one of his most endearing qualities—his ability to find joy in the mundane, to make even the most tense situations bearable with his infectious enthusiasm.

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