Page 99 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

My feet find their way back to the deer trail I’d followed earlier. The house must be close now. Any moment I’ll break through the trees and see it.

Keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Focus on what matters.

Finn matters.

The thought gives me strength I didn’t know I had. Lets me push through the fear that wants to freeze me in place. Because this isn’t just about me anymore.

The trees part ahead and I glimpse a clearing through the branches. The house. My heart stutters in my chest, but I force myself forward. No more running. No more hiding.

Each step feels heavier than the last as I approach the edge of the forest. The gravel driveway stretches ahead like a river I haveto cross. Beyond it, the house looms—beautiful and terrifying all at once.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders despite the trembling in my limbs. One step. Then another. Each one carrying me closer to whatever comes next.

I might be worthless.

I might be broken.

But I am not a coward.

Not anymore.

The front porch comes into view, and with it, a figure in the upstairs bedroom. The nest, I realize. My heart stops, then starts again with painful force.

Finn.

He hasn’t seen me yet, his head is bowed, crown pressing into the glass, shoulders slumped in a way that makes my chest ache. He looks…defeated. Broken. And I did that to him.

But I came back to fix it. To make it right. To be brave, just this once.

One more step.

Another.

Another.

Until finally, he must see the movement.

His head snaps up, eyes widening as they find me. For a moment, we just stare at each other across the distance—me bleeding and dirty and trembling, him looking like his world has ended.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though he’s too far away to hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

But I’m here now. And whatever comes next, I’ll face it.

For him.

The moment stretches between Finn and me. His eyes are wide, disbelieving, like he can’t quite trust what he’s seeing. I open my mouth to speak again, to try to find words that could possibly makethis right, but movement at the door makes the words die in my throat.

One of the alphas.

Ren.

My heart stutters, then races. Of all Finn’s alphas, he’s the one that terrifies me most. Maybe it’s the way he moves—tall, silent, and deadly as a shadow. Maybe it’s those ice-blue eyes that seem to see right through me. Or maybe it’s the power that rolls off him in waves, contained but lethal.

He fills the doorway like a storm about to break, his face an unreadable mask as those cold eyes fix on me. The urge to run nearly overwhelms me again—my muscles coil, ready to flee. But no. I came back for a reason.

For Finn.

Before I can second-guess myself, I drop to my knees. The gravel bites into my already torn flesh, but I ignore the pain. My palms press flat against the ground, and I bend forward until my forehead touches the backs of my hands. The position leaves me completely vulnerable—exposed, spine curved, every instinct screaming danger.

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