Page 49 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

I perch carefully on the edge of the stool, hyperaware of how my borrowed clothes match the scent in this space. “The alpha—” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “The alpha brought food this morning.”

Finn’s movements are sure as he begins pulling things from the fridge. “But did you eat it?”

I look down at my hands. Truth is, I couldn’t. The food he brought looked amazing, but my stomach was too tied in knots. Just like all the other times he’d brought food.

“That’s what I thought.” Finn’s voice is gentle as he sets a pan on the stove. “How do you feel about eggs? I can make something else if?—”

“Eggs are fine,” I whisper quickly. Just the thought of someone cooking for me, caring about what I want to eat…it makes my chest tight.

He works with efficient movements, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them with practiced ease. The domesticity of it all feels surreal after the cabin. After the Academy.

“The herbs,” I say suddenly, looking at the windowsill garden. “You grow them yourself?”

Something softens in his expression. “Yeah. The basil’s new—just sprouted last week. And the thyme…” He stops, that pained look crossing his face again. “Stone helped me plant the thyme.”

The mention of the alpha makes us both fall silent. I watch as Finn adds butter to the pan, the soft sizzle filling the quiet kitchen. I grip my belly, willing it not to growl as I watch the omega. His movements are so sure, so comfortable in this space. But there’s tension in his shoulders, in the way he keeps his back partially turned to me like he’s protecting himself.

“How long…” I start, then stop. How do I ask? How long has he been here? How long has he been…free?

He glances at me, those storm-gray eyes understanding. “How long have I been with them?”

I nod, grateful he caught my meaning.

“Three years,” he says softly, turning back to the stove. “Well, with Ren first. Then Jax. Then…” He swallows hard. “Then Stone.” Finn’s gaze shifts to the window, and I can’t help but watch him as he stares at the forest beyond, almost like he’s looking but not really seeing anything out there. “I still remember how overwhelmed I felt when Ren first approached me at that benefit gala. Most alphas ignored male omegas, but he…he saw me. Wouldn’t take his eyes off me all night. When he introduced me to Jax the following week, it felt like destiny. Like everything was falling perfectly into place.”

His throat works and he seems to come back to himself, like he’s suddenly aware of how much he’s revealed. His scent shifts, tinged with something that might be embarrassment or vulnerability—or both. The wooden spoon in his hand stills for just a moment before he returns to stirring with renewed focus. There’s something about the way his shoulders hunch slightly, the quick dart of his eyes toward me and away again, that makes me wonderif he’s been holding these words inside for a long time, waiting for someone who might understand.

As I watch him move around the kitchen, the way he knows exactly where everything is, how naturally he speaks of multiple alphas in his life, a realization hits me. They really are a pack. The concept makes my head spin. At the Academy, they taught us that alphas were possessive, territorial. That they would never share an omega and that when we leave, we were to be completely devoted to our one master. But here’s Finn, clearly part of a pack with multiple alphas, moving through their shared space with the confidence of someone who belongs.

I should probably be more shocked, more scandalized by all of this. But after everything that’s happened, I’m starting to wonder how many other lies I’ve been told. How much of what I think I know about the world is just what others wanted me to believe?

Even before I revealed, my parents kept me isolated because they “didn’t want me to get into trouble”. The Academy took me because they said it was for my own good, that they were protecting me. Everyone in my life who claimed to want what was best for me kept me in the dark, kept me afraid, kept me small.

And now here I am, sitting in a sunlit kitchen with an omega who moves through the world like he owns it, who lives with three alphas in what seems to be a loving pack, who looks at me like he sees past all the careful walls I’ve built around myself.

The eggs smell amazing as he slides them onto a plate, adding toast and what looks like fresh fruit. He sets it in front of me with a glass of water, then leans against the counter, giving me space.

“Eat,” he says gently. “We can talk after.”

I stare at the plate, at the care put into its preparation. The eggs are perfectly scrambled, seasoned with what looks like fresh herbs. The toast is golden brown, buttered just right. The fruit is arranged with artistic carefulness. My stomach clenches with hunger, but I hesitate.Don’t eat unless fed by your Master. Never complain about being hungry.

But Finn’s scent wraps around me like a warm blanket—omega, safe, familiar, even though it shouldn’t be. There’s something about having another omega cook for me, care for me, that bypasses all those ingrained warnings. His designation speaks to something deeper than fear, something that recognizes pack, family, protection.

“Thank you,” I whisper, picking up the fork with trembling fingers.

He just nods, moving to make himself a cup of tea. I notice he positions himself where he can see both the door and the windows while still giving me clear sight lines to all exits. It’s subtle, but deliberate.

The first bite of food nearly makes me cry. The eggs are creamy, and as perfectly seasoned as they look. The toast crunches just right.

“Good?” Finn asks, and there’s something pleased in his scent despite the lingering distress.

I nod, taking another bite. I preen at his approval, wanting to make this other omega happy. It’s strange—I’ve never felt this way around another omega before. But there’s something about Finn that makes me want to trust, want to please, want to…belong?

The thought makes me pause, fork halfway to my mouth. That’s what this feeling is, isn’t it? This pull? Something primal in me recognizes this as a pack space, responds to the complex web of scents that speak of safety and belonging and that part of me wants it.

Except…after what I’ve been through, trusting an alpha,anyalpha will be like splintering my nails through wood.

“The others…” I say carefully, setting down my fork.

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