Page 207 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

The sound of breaking glass snaps me out of my thoughts, and my blood runs cold. It’s close—too close. My eyes dart to the small frosted window above the bathtub, but it’s intact. Then I hear it again, the unmistakable crunch of glass underfoot, and my stomach twists.

Someone’s in the nest room.

Panic surges through me, but I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. My eyes dart around the bathroom, searching for something—anything—that I can use to defend myself.

My gaze lands on the toilet tank lid. It’s ceramic, heavy and solid—a potential weapon. I step toward it, my hands still trembling as I grip the edges. The lid is heavier than I expect, and I have to brace myself as I lift it carefully off the tank. Water droplets splash softly against the porcelain as I cradle the unwieldy weight against my chest, my arms already protesting.

When the door handle rattles, my lungs cease to work. They know I’m in here. The realization is like ice in my veins, but it also sharpens something inside me. I can’t panic. I can’t freeze. If I do, I’m as good as gone.

The door bursts open with a deafening crash, the force of it splintering the wood around the lock. A man steps into the bathroom, his face obscured by a black mask. He’s taller than I expected, broader, and the way he moves makes me want to collapse. Predatory, efficient, deadly. An alpha? There’s no way I can fight back and win. The tank lid suddenly feels impossibly heavy in my trembling arms.

I swing it anyway, desperation lending me strength. He sees it coming—of course, he does—and steps easily to the side. The momentum of the heavy porcelain throws me off balance, and I stumble forward. Before I can recover, he’s already moving. I try to swing again, but this time he’s ready. The lid connects with his shoulder instead of his head, the impact jarring my arms but barely making him flinch.

But he’s fast. Too fast. His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip, and he yanks me back with enough force to send me crashing into the sink. The toilet lid falls and cracks as pain explodes in my side, but I grit my teeth against it, twisting in his grip. My free hand claws at his mask, and I manage to tear it halfway off, revealing a face that’s shockingly young. He can’t be more than a few years older than me.

“Let me go!” I snarl, my voice raw with panic and fury. I try to slam my elbow back into his ribs, but he anticipates the move, shifting his grip so my attempt barely glances off him. My struggles seem to only amuse him, his strength making my resistance feel pathetically ineffective.

I wrench and twist desperately, but his arms are like steel bands around me. Every movement I make is met with calculated force, his training obvious in the way he controls my attempts to break free. My nails rake across his forearms, but even that seems to havelittle effect through his combat gear. His grip tightens until I can barely breathe, and the reality of my situation hits me with crushing clarity. This is it. This is how they’ll take me.

Then the door slams open, and Jax is there, his eyes wild and his gun raised. The intruder freezes, his grip faltering just enough for me to break free. I stumble away, my back hitting the wall as Jax crosses the room in two long strides. His fist connects with the intruder’s face with a sickening crack, and the man crumples to the floor, unconscious.

“Hailey,” Jax breathes, his voice rough with a mix of relief and fury. He’s on me in an instant, his hands gripping my shoulders as his dark eyes scan me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline continues to pump through me. “I’m fine,” I manage. “I’m okay.”

Jax’s hand cups my face, his thumb brushing my jaw as he studies me intently, not quite believing my words. There’s blood on his knuckles and a wild look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter. He opens his mouth to say something, but gunfire erupts from downstairs again, making us both flinch.

“Stone,” I breathe, fear clawing at my throat.

“He’s handling it,” Jax says grimly, but his jaw is tight with tension. He glances at the unconscious man on the bathroom floor, then back to me. “There’s more of them. At least four. We need to get you out of here.”

“Finn—”

“With Stone.” His hand slides down to grip mine, already pulling me toward the door. “Come on. While they’re distracted downstairs.”

My legs feel weak, but I force them to move, letting Jax guide me out of the bathroom. The nest room is a mess—one of the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered, an icy breeze flowing in. Jax keeps me behind him, his gun ready as we approach the hallway.

A crash from below makes me jump. Someone shouts—Stone’svoice, though I can’t make out the words. The sound of it tears at something in my chest. They’re fighting because of me. Getting hurt because of me. Coulddiebecause of me.

“Jax,” I whisper, gripping his arm. “I can’t just?—”

“Yes, you can and you will,” he cuts me off, voice low and fierce. “We protect what’s ours, Hailey. That’s not negotiable.”

The fierce possessiveness in his tone, the unwavering certainty—it makes my throat tight with emotions I can’t even name. But before I can respond, more gunfire erupts downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking furniture and what might be Stone’s roar of fury.

Jax tenses, his whole body coiling like a spring. The conflict is clear on his face—the need to get me to safety warring with his instinct to help his pack mate. I know that feeling. It’s clawing at my insides, too.

“Go,” I whisper, pushing at his shoulder. “Go help them. I’ll hide?—”

“Not a chance in hell,” he growls, pulling me closer. “They knew exactly where to find you in that bathroom. They’re not winging this, Hailey. They came prepared.”

He’s right, and the realization creates a glacier in my veins. They knew the layout. Knew where I’d likely be. Which means…

A floorboard creaks behind us.

Jax spins, shoving me behind him as he raises his gun, but he’s not quite fast enough. The newcomer tackles him with brutal force, sending them both crashing into the wall. Some of the framed pictures hanging there fall and shatter just as the gun goes flying, skittering across the floor and disappearing into the darkness.

I scramble back, my heart in my throat as I watch them grapple. This attacker is massive, easily matching Jax for size, and they move with the deadly efficiency of someone extensively trained. Just like the one in the bathroom. Just like…

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