Page 126 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“But you’re right.” The words sound like they’re being dragged from him. “We need intel. And they…they know things. Places to look.”

“I’ll go with you,” I offer immediately. “Face them together.”

That cold smile he does, the one that never reaches his eyes. “No. I’ll do this alone.”

“Ren—”

“I said no.” His voice carries the weight of alpha command, though we both know it won’t work on me. “Some doors shouldn’t be opened, Jax.”

I want to argue. Want to insist that he doesn’t have to face whatever demons lurk in his past alone. But something in his expression stops me—something raw and wounded that makes my protective instincts surge.

“Just…” I stand slowly, choosing my words with care. “Just remember, you’re not alone anymore. Whatever happened then, whatever happens now—you have us. A real pack.”

For just a moment, something flickers across his face—something that might be gratitude or might be grief. Then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar mask of ice.

“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s why I have to do this alone.”

Hailey

The soil feels alive between my fingers, dark and rich and nothing like I expected. Finn keeps up a steady stream of chatter as he shows me how to prepare the beds, his pink sun hat bobbing as he gestures. The crisp morning air nips my shoulders through the old t-shirt he lent me, and everything feels…heightened somehow. Like my senses are slowly waking up after a long sleep.

“—and these will be perfect for chamomile,” Finn is saying, marking out neat rows with twine. “The bees love it, and it’ll help with your sleep. Plus the flowers look like tiny suns. Don’t you think that’s perfect for you, sunshine?”

I nod, though I’m slightly distracted by a butterfly that justlanded on the edge of his hat. Its wings are an impossible shade of blue that pulls my attention. Have butterflies always been so vibrant?

A bird calls from the forest edge, answered by another, and another, until the air is full of their song. The breeze carries the scent of pine and wild roses, making my head spin slightly. Everything feels so…much. The textures, the sounds, the way the clouds above drift like spun sugar across the endless blue of the sky.

“You okay there?” Finn’s voice draws me back. When I look at him, his expression is almost tender.

I smile and nod, cheeks warming at just the intensity of his focus.

“If it’s too much too soon, we can always head back inside…”

My head snaps up, heart pounding. I don’t want to stop this. “No.” I shake my head. “I want to stay. I…I like this.”

I smile again, forcing it wider, and Finn studies me for a moment, eyes still kind, before he nods too.

Before either of us can say more, Stone appears with another load of mulch. He’s been hauling bags back and forth all morning, pretending he’s not watching us like a hawk. But now he pauses, running the back of his hand across his brow.

“Need water?” he asks, and I’m struck again by how different his voice sounds when he’s trying to be gentle. Like a lion attempting to purr.

Finn grins up at him. “Trying to mother hen us already? It’s barely been an hour.”

“You’re both covered in dirt,” Stone grumbles, but there’s fondness in his tone. “And you haven’t touched your water bottle.”

“Yes, yes, hydration is important,” Finn waves this away. “But first, help us with these new beds. There’s a good alpha.”

I expect Stone to bristle at being ordered around by an omega, but he just sighs and kneels beside us. It’s…strange, watching such a large alpha get his expensive pants covered in dirt. Stranger still when he starts carefully separating seedlings with those huge hands, handling them like they’re made of glass.

“Careful with those,” Finn instructs, leaning over to adjust Stone’s grip. “They’re delicate until they get established. Like this?—”

The work must be getting to Stone because he suddenly strips off his shirt, revealing a torso that looks like it was carved from marble. I quickly avert my eyes, heat flooding my cheeks, but not before I catch Finn’s reaction. His words actually stutter to a halt mid-sentence, cheeks flushing crimson as he stares at Stone’s bare chest.

“You were saying?” Stone asks, and there’s definitely amusement in his voice now. “Something about being delicate?”

“I—you—that’s not fair,” Finn mutters, turning back to his seedlings. But I notice he keeps stealing glances, his usual stream of chatter punctuated by moments of distracted silence.

Another breeze sweeps through the garden, carrying the mingled scents of earth and sweat and alpha musk. My head spins again, but this time it’s different. Everything feels…sharper. More intense. The way the muscles in Stone’s back flex as he works. The soft sounds Finn makes when their hands brush accidentally. The way the air between them seems to crackle with something that feels electric.

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