Page 117 of Knot Like Other Girls

"Perimeter's clear," Savva says, his refined voice at odds with the security jargon. "Manifest has been approved. We're cleared for immediate departure."

Roman nods. "Let's move. The less time we spend exposed, the better."

The efficiency with which they operate should be comforting. These alphas clearly know what they're doing and have done it countless times before. But all I can focus on is the jet's narrow door and the knowledge that soon I'll be thousands of feet in the air, trapped in a metal tube with nothing but physics keeping us from plummeting to the ground.

Troy pops the trunk and the alphas move in, gathering bags and equipment. I reach for one of my suitcases—still ridiculously new and expensive, a "gift" from Braxley when I first moved into the penthouse—but Liam beats me to it.

"Allow me, lass," he says, hoisting my suitcase like it weighs nothing.

"I can carry my own—" I start to protest, but the words die in my throat when I see all five alphas looking at me with identical expressions of stubborn determination.

Right. Alpha instincts. And apparently, five of them at once means I don't get to carry so much as a handbag.

"Fine," I concede, rolling my eyes to hide how their protectiveness actually makes my heart flutter. "But I'm perfectly capable of carrying things, you know."

"Of course you are," Savva says smoothly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But why should you have to when we're here?"

"And it makes us happy," Liam interjects, passing my suitcase off to the ramp agent standing by the belly of the jet.

I can't help but laugh, feeling some of the stiffness ease from my shoulders. These alphas may be overprotective, but there's something undeniably comforting about the way they go about showing it.

"Well, when you put it that way," I say, shaking my head with a smile.

As we approach the jet, I try to focus on the solid presence of the alphas around me rather than the knot of anxiety tighteningin my stomach. Cole stays close to my side, his frame blocking most of my view of the plane. I'm not sure if it's intentional, but I appreciate it all the same.

The stairs leading up to the jet's door look impossibly steep and narrow. I freeze at the bottom, my palms growing clammy. Last time I'd climbed into a jet, I'd at least had some wine at a dinner party beforehand to dampen my nerves.

"I've got you," Cole murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.

Before I can respond, he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing at all. I let out an undignified squeak of surprise, my arms automatically looping around his neck.

"Cole!" I protest half-heartedly. "I can walk!"

He grunts, already halfway up the stairs. "Faster this way."

And damn it if he isn't right. We're through the door and into the cabin before I can work up a proper argument. The interior is nothing like Braxley's opulent private jet with its gold fixtures and champagne coolers. This one is sleek and utilitarian, more military transport than luxury liner. It's tight, but not claustrophobic. More like... cozy, if cozy wore kevlar.

As Cole sets me gently on my feet, I find I prefer it. There's something reassuring about the no-nonsense design. No pretense, no excess—just like the alphas themselves.

"Welcome aboard, lass," Liam says, following us inside with my suitcase. "Make yourself at home."

I settle into one of the plush leather seats, trying to ignore the way my heart rate picks up as the rest of the pack files in. Troy immediately heads for the cockpit, while Roman confers quietly with Savva near the door.

Cole takes the seat across from me, his eyes never leaving my face. I wonder if he can hear how fast my pulse is racing. Probably. Stupid alpha hearing.

"You good?" he asks, voice low enough that the others won't hear.

I nod, not quite trusting my voice. My fingers curl around the armrests, already anticipating takeoff.

A warm hand covers the back of mine, and I look up to find Savva sliding into the seat beside me. "Perhaps a distraction is in order," he says smoothly. "How about Sudoku?"

Before I can respond, he produces a slim book of puzzles and a fancy pen from seemingly nowhere. I blink at him, momentarily thrown by the gesture.

"You just... carry those around?" I ask.

Savva's lips quirk up in a small smile. "I might."

I can't help but laugh. "Why am I not surprised?"

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