Page 14 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

A loud crack from the forest snaps my attention back to the open door. Right. We’re exposed here. Anyone could walk in and find us, and I still don’t know if she’s being pursued or if there are others out there.

First things first. I need to secure the area, then deal with those restraints. After that…well, after that, I’ll have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with a mysterious injured omega who’s taken refuge in my cabin.

One thing’s certain—this isn’t how I expected my evening to go. But as I glance back at her, curled up under my jacket, looking so fragile yet oddly unyielding, I realize something else: whatever storm brought her here isn’t over. And like it or not, I’m now part of it.

Chapter 5

Finn

The kitchen feels emptier after Stone leaves. Strange how the absence of just one person can make such a large space feel like it’s collapsing in on itself. My hands remain braced against the sink’s edge, shoulders hunched as if they could shield my heart from the familiar ache of rejection.

Four perfectly plated dinners sit on the counter behind me, steam still rising from the herb-crusted chicken. The rosemary’s earthy scent mingles with the buttery aroma of fresh bread, a combination that used to draw my alphas home. Now it just highlights their absence.

I should move. Should at least cover the food before it gets cold. But my body feels leaden, weighted down by the hollow echo of Stone’s retreating footsteps. A perimeter alert. Right. As if we both don’t know that’s just an excuse.

The bread is done and the timer on the oven chirps insistently, demanding attention I can’t seem to muster. I’ve spent three hours preparing this meal, each ingredient carefully selected and prepared. As if perfect execution could somehow fix what’s broken between us.

My hands shake as I finally straighten, the tremors I fought sohard to hide from Stone now free to surface. The wooden spoon I’d been clutching clatters against the granite countertop, the sound sharp in the empty kitchen.

“Fuck.” My throat closes up. Stupid fucking omega hormones. I won’t cry.

Irefuseto.

The hot sting of tears threatens anyway, but I blink them back. Crying won’t change anything. Won’t make my alphas want to stay.

Moving on autopilot, I begin the familiar ritual of dealing with another abandoned meal. Plastic wrap over perfectly seared chicken that will end up in tomorrow’s lunch. Fresh bread that will go stale before anyone thinks to eat it. My fingers brush against the garnish I’d arranged so carefully—fresh herbs from the garden I tend alone now.

A bitter laugh escapes before I can catch it. Here I am, a male omega pushing well over average height, playing at being the perfect homemaker. I tower over other omegas—female and even the rarer males like me—and I lack the delicate build that alphas instinctively want to protect. Even my hands are wrong—too large, too rough from years of kitchen work and gardening.

The pack bond pulses dully in my chest as Stone moves further away. I know exactly where he’s headed. The cabin. His sanctuary from us. Fromme.

I discovered it by accident almost two years ago, when the emptiness of the house drove me to follow him one night. The shame of that memory still burns—me, skulking through the woods like some lovesick teenager, watching through the windows as Stone found peace in solitude rather than his omega’s presence.

How far we’ve fallen from those early days when Ren’s intensity at that charity gala had made me feel like the only omega in the world. He’d stationed himself by the exit, those ice-blue eyes following my every move until I finally dared to approach him. I’d been so naïve then, thinking his possessiveness was romantic. He’dcalled me every day, checking how I was, asking me about my day, even stopping by. And when he’d introduced me to Jax and Stone the following week, I thought I’d hit the jackpot.Threegorgeous alphas wanting to court me. It all happened so fast, like a dream I was afraid to wake from.

My fingers clench around a dinner plate, knuckles white with sudden anger. All those promises. All those sweet words. And now? Now I’m lucky if we even have something as simple as dinner together.

The plate trembles in my grasp. Setting it down before I drop it, I lean against the counter and try to steady my breathing. The bond mark on my neck tingles—Jax’s bite, deepened by Stone and Ren in turn. “It’ll be fine,” Ren had said, eyes bright with conviction. “You’ll be perfect for us.”

Perfect. The word tastes like vomit now.

I’d been too overwhelmed by their attention, too desperate to belong, to see what was right in front of me. To be honest…I don’t know why they chose me.

This morning, Jax had left coffee by my nest. Still hot, and made exactly how I like it. Those little gestures hurt most—proof they remember how to care for me, even as they pull away. It’s the crumbs of affection that keep my hope alive, even when hope itself has become a form of self-torture.

The kitchen’s warmth suddenly feels stifling. I finish wrapping the plates of food before moving to the window. Outside, the grounds of the manor are mostly dark.

The road to the house stretches away like a silver ribbon, and for a moment, my chest tightens with unexplained panic. The flash of headlights. Impact. The world spinning. The smell of burning rubber and the metallic tang of blood flooding my mouth. Someone shouting my name—was it Ren? Stone?

I shake it off. Just another fragment of that night I can’t quite piece together. The night that changed everything, though I’m still not sure how or why. Whatever happened on that dark road two anda half years ago fractured something in our forming bond. Something no one wants to discuss.

Sometimes, in the darkest hours of night, I catch fragments of memory—screeching tires, shattering glass, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. But it’s all hazy, like looking through rain-streaked windows. The doctors said trauma can do that. Make you forget. But I sense there’s more they’re not telling me. More in the way my alphas’ scents spike with guilt whenever I mention that night. More in the way Ren hasn’t touched a steering wheel since.

I press my forehead against the cool glass. The forest stretches dark and inviting beyond the edges of the manicured lawn. Somewhere out there, Stone is walking to his private retreat. Probably breathing easier with each step away from here.

My reflection stares back at me, distorted by the glass. Three years we’ve been bonded, and I still catch them sometimes, in unguarded moments, looking at me like they’re trying to reconcile something. Probably trying to reconcile what they got with what they wanted.

I huff out a breath, fogging up the glass. The phone in my pocket feels heavy. I could call Jax. Tell him Stone’s gone again. But what would be the point? Jax is probably with Ren, handling whatever mysterious “pack business” keeps them away so often lately. More likely, they’re just finding their own escapes. Their own cabins in the woods.

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