Page 194 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

I don’t want to make this worse for Finn—for any of them.

Even though it’s been hard to trust, I’m starting to…like them. I like Finn’s warmth, Stone’s quiet strength, and even Jax’s constant reliable energy, though I haven’t spent much time with him. I want them to be happy like they are in these pictures again. I want Finn tosmile like that, wide and carefree, without the weight of everything hanging over him.

But Ren… I haven’t seen him since that day.

The memory sends a shiver through me. The way his hand had tightened around my throat, the panic that had overwhelmed me—it feels like a lifetime ago, but the bruises on my neck are still faintly visible. I told myself I wouldn’t ask where he’s been, wouldn’t press for answers I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Still, the thought lingers. Where is he?

I shake the thought away and keep moving.

The house feels quiet, almost too quiet, as I make my way downstairs. I brush past Finn’s indoor plants, my fingers trailing on some of their leaves. Every door I pass is locked, though I don’t test the handles. I wasn’t thinking about leaving, but the locked doors still send a pang of unease through me.

Eventually, I find myself in the sitting room. The space is cozy, even with no one in it. I glance around, my fingers brushing against the edge of the couch as I sink into it.

The remote sits on the coffee table, and after a moment of hesitation, I pick it up and start pressing buttons, flipping through the channels until something catches my eye.

One of Finn’s reality shows flashes onto the screen. It’s loud and ridiculous, the kind of show that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and I can’t help but smile a little.

For a moment, the noise and chaos of it are enough to distract me, to make me forget the tension that’s been pressing in on me all morning.

But then the show cuts to a commercial.

The screen shifts, and the playful music is replaced by the sharp, dramatic tones of a news report.

At first, it doesn’t register. My mind is still half caught in the absurdity of the show, but the anchor’s voice cuts through the room:“Authorities are still searching for the mysterious thief responsible for a series of break-ins…”

I glance up, my attention snagged by the words.

And then I see her.

Vi.

Her face fills the screen, grainy and worn down by the poor quality of the footage, but unmistakable. Her purple hair is tied back, defiant eyes staring straight into the camera. My stomach drops.

The anchor’s voice continues, but the words blur together, distant and meaningless in my ears. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart. All I can see isher.

The caption beneath her image reads"MYSTERY OMEGA THIEF: STILL AT LARGE."

I don’t realize I’m moving until I’m already on my feet, my legs carrying me closer to the screen. My hand trembles as I reach out, my fingertips brushing against the glass like I can somehow touch her, reach her, pull her back.

“Vi,” I whisper, the word slipping free before I can stop it.

Her face flickers on the screen as the footage loops, and the anchor continues to speak.“Authorities warn that the suspect may be armed and dangerous. Citizens are urged to remain cautious and report any sightings immediately…”

“Dangerous?” My voice cracks, barely audible in the empty room. She’s not dangerous. She’s scared.

I press my palm flat against the screen, my heart aching.

We made it out, but not together.

She’s alone.

The image shifts, replaced by a video of police cars and flashing lights, and I let my hand fall to my side. My legs feel shaky as I sink back onto the couch, staring blankly at the screen, my mind racing.

I haven’t spoken about her. Finn hasn’t asked. But he will. Eventually. And I don’t know what I’ll say. How can I explain the guilt, the fear that she might get caught again?

If I can help Vi, I will. But how?

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