Page 133 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Time to go?” Stone asks quietly, noting my distress.

“Just clothes first,” Finn insists. “She needs proper things to wear.” He steers us toward a section filled with racks of clothing. “Quick and easy choices, then we’re done. Promise.”

The clothing area is daunting in its variety. Styles I’ve never seen, fabrics in every color imaginable.

“Let’s start simple,” Finn suggests, pulling out soft-looking pants in a dark blue material. “Lounge pants. Comfortable but presentable. And look—” he shows me the waistband, “adjustable, like everything else we got. Flexibility is key.”

He adds several pairs to the cart, along with matching tops in soothing colors. Everything he chooses looks comfortable, unrestrictive. Nothing too tight or revealing.

“Do you like any particular colors?” he asks, holding up options.

I touch a soft green sweater, reminded of the forest beyond their house. “This…this is nice.”

“Perfect.” He adds it and similar items to our growing collection. “These are good transition pieces. Easy to layer, easy to move in. And when you’re ready for more options, we can always come back.”

A young omega brushes past us, her arms laden with bright, fashionable clothes. She smells of excitement and freedom, her voice bright with laughter. Her torn jeans would have earned severe punishment at the Academy.

“Different styles for different comfort levels,” Finn comments, noting my observation.

“What if…” I swallow hard. “What if I ever want to dress like that?”

“Then you can.” His voice is firm. “It will always be your choice. Always.”

Stone shifts closer, his presence steady and reassuring. “Cart’s getting full,” he observes. “Anything else essential?”

Finn does a quick inventory. “I think we’ve got the basics covered. Undergarments, sleepwear, heat supplies, everyday clothes…” He turns to me. “See anything else you want to look at?”

I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed but in a different way now. The cart is filled with more possessions than I’ve owned in years. Things chosen for me, things I chose myself. Things I never knew existed, never knew I could have.

“Ready for checkout then?” Stone asks, already angling his body to shield me from the busy main aisle.

Finn plops something else in the cart I don’t recognize. “Yeah, just grab some of those scent-neutralizing candles over there. Two minutes.”

Stone nods and heads off.

The store feels different now, more crowded than before. Something, call it all that training at the Academy, makes my gaze shift to a group of alphas near the electronics section. They keep glancing our way. My fingers tighten on the cart handle, my breaths picking up. Thank god for the sunglasses or they would see how wide and panicked my eyes suddenly are.

Finn notices. As he always does. “Hey,” he murmurs, “look at this.” He holds up a soft grey scarf, deliberately positioning himself between me and their line of sight. “Good for layering, don’t you think?”

But I can’t focus on the scarf. One of the alphas has broken away from his group, moving through the aisles. Not directly toward us, but parallel, like he’s trying to cut off our path to the registers.

The scent hits me first—black pepper, thick and suffocating.Then his voice, pitched to carry: “Don’t often see two pretties like you out shopping alone.”

Finn stiffens beside me. The alpha inhales deeply, and his smile turns cruel.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Oh, now that’s interesting. I knew I was right. You’re an omega, aren’t you. A male omega playing protector.” He moves closer, blocking our path. “That’s not something you see every day.”

Finn’s hand finds mine under the pretense of showing me the scarf’s texture. His fingers are trembling slightly, but his voice remains steady. “We’re not alone.”

“No?” The alpha’s eyes glitter with malicious amusement. “Your alpha’s busy elsewhere, and you…” He leans in, making Finn flinch back. “You smell absolutely divine when you’re scared.”

My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe. This alpha. He’s exactly like I imagined all alphas to be like. We’re in trouble. We should run. We should?—

“Step. Back.”

Stone’s voice cuts through the store like ice, but the alpha’s already reaching for me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. His touch is acid, burning through my skin, through time?—

—hands holding me down, white coats, the smell of antiseptic?—

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