Page 175 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

I blink at him. “What?”

“For them,” he clarifies, already heading toward the kitchen. “They’ll need to eat.”

I hesitate, glancing toward the stairs. The dark of night is slowly turning gray as dawn breaks. Have we really been down here all night? Jax is right. They’ll be starved. But the idea of going anywhere near them right now feels like walking into a fire.

“We’ll just leave it at the door,” Jax says, reading my hesitation. “Finn can handle the rest.”

I nod and follow him into the kitchen, grabbing a tray while he pulls together something quick—eggs, toast, fruit, anything that can hold them over for a while.

As we work, the light of dawn begins sending the first few rays into the kitchen, and the house suddenly grows quiet.

The silence is unsettling.

The sound of Hailey’s cries, her moans, her whimpers—they’ve been a constant background noise for hours, clawing at our control, wrapping around us, pulling us toward her. Now that it’s gone, the quiet feels wrong.

I glance at Jax as he finishes piling eggs and toast onto the tray, his jaw tight. He feels it too.

“She must’ve passed out,” I breathe, my voice cutting through the stillness.

Jax doesn’t reply right away, but his shoulders relax slightly as he grabs a bowl of fruit and places it next to the toast. “Probably. Finn must’ve finally worn her down.”

The tension in his voice is still there, but there’s a hint of relief, too. It’s not just her pre-heat that’s been weighing on us—it’s the fear that she’d push herself too far, that her body wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of it.

“She needs rest,” I say, more to myself than to him.

Jax grabs two glasses of water and sets them on the tray. “She’ll get it,” he says firmly. “Finn will make sure of it.”

I nod, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away.

The food is simple—just enough to keep them going until the doctor arrives later. Jax picks up the tray, and I follow him toward the stairs, the silence of the house pressing down on us.

The scent of Hailey’s heat still lingers, clinging to the air like a second skin. It’s not as strong as it was earlier, but it’s enough to make me grit my teeth and focus on each step, one at a time.

Jax pauses at the top of the stairs, his grip tightening on the tray as he looks at the closed door to the nest room. For a moment, neither of us moves.

He exhales sharply, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Let’s just get this done.”

He steps forward, and I follow, keeping a careful distance between us and the door. The scent is stronger here, the air heavier, but it’s the silence that makes my chest tighten. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening on the other side.

Jax sets the tray down gently in front of the door, balancing it carefully to make sure nothing spills. He knocks twice, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway.

“Finn,” he calls out, his voice low. “Food.”

A few seconds pass, and then we hear movement from inside. The door doesn’t open, but Finn’s voice comes through, muffled and rough.

“Thanks.”

Jax doesn’t respond. He just turns and heads back down the stairs, and I follow, the two of us moving in silence.

Back in the sitting room, Jax drops onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. I sit across from him, grabbing the tablet to check the security feeds again.

“Still clear,” I say, though it doesn’t feel like much of a reassurance.

Jax nods, but his gaze is distant, his jaw tight. “This isn’t normal, Stone. You know that, right?”

I set the tablet down, leaning back in my seat. “I know.”

“And if it’s not normal for her…” He trails off, but I know where he’s going with this.

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