Page 210 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Chapter 49

Hailey

Stone guides me toward his room with a gentle hand on my lower back, Finn trailing behind us. The space feels different from the nest—darker, more austere. Heavy wooden furniture and deep blue walls that somehow make me feel both protected and small.

Stone tries to settle me on the bed, but I shake my head. “I want to…Let me see your arm first.”

The words come out more assertive than I expect, but the sight of his blood-soaked arm awakens something in me—a desperate need to do something, anything, to help these alphas who just risked everything to protect me. After feeling so helpless for so long, I need this small act of control.

“I’m fine—” he starts, but I’m already moving to his en-suite bathroom without fear—as if I own the place. Tightening the blanket wrapped around me, I search for first aid supplies. When I return, Finn is hovering near Stone, his eye now completely swollen shut.

“Sit. Both of you,” I order, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. They exchange a look but comply, settling on the edge ofStone’s bed. My hands only shake slightly as I reach for Stone’s arm.

There’s so much blood. As I clean it away, my heart nearly stops. “This is—Stone, this is a bullet wound.” My voice rises with panic as I fully process what I’m seeing. “You need a hospital. We need to?—”

“Hailey.” His good arm wraps around my waist, pulling me between his knees. “I’m okay. Clean through, nothing vital hit.”

“Nothing vital?” I sputter, trembling hands hovering over the wound. “You were shot! There’s a hole in your arm!”

He catches my trembling hands in his, thumb stroking over my knuckles. “And you’re taking care of it perfectly.” His voice is soft, gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “It doesn’t even hurt, sweetheart.”

That doesn’t make me feel better at all. I know he’s lying, but I let him guide my hands back to the wound. My touch is even more careful now as I clean around the entry and exit points.

“You’re good at this,” Finn observes quietly as I wrap Stone’s bicep in gauze. There’s something in his tone—respect maybe, or amazement—that makes me flush.

Stone hasn’t taken his eyes off my face, watching me work with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. When I secure the bandage, his hand cups my jaw, turning my face to his. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and there’s a weight to the words that means more than just gratitude for first aid.

When I turn to Finn, he tries to wave me off. “It’s just a black eye?—”

“Hold. Still.”

Finn falls silent, his lips pressing into a faintly amused line as I clean the cut above his swollen eye. Sirens grow louder outside, then cut off abruptly. Car doors slam. Voices. I tense, but neither Stone nor Finn seem concerned.

“The police…” I start. “Won’t they want to question me?”

The thought sends a wave of cold dread through me. Questions mean answers, and answers could lead back to the Academy. Backto everything I’ve been running from. I’m not sure I could lie convincingly to law enforcement.

“No,” Stone says firmly. “Jax will tell them we have a distressed omega. No alpha worth their badge would push for access after that.” His lip curls slightly. “They’ll take his statement, document the scene, and leave. Jax will make sure of it. And Ren…”

Finn shifts at the mention of Ren’s name. “How did he really know to come?”

Stone is quiet for a long moment. He reaches for me, grasping me at the hip as I continue to tend to Finn’s eye. His touch is warm, his thumb tracing absent patterns through the blanket. “He’s probably been watching the house. Since…since that night. Making sure we’re safe.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air. I think about Ren out there in the darkness, keeping guard even after what happened. Even after Stone sent him away. Something in my chest aches.

“At least something good came from his paranoia,” Finn mutters, then winces as I press antiseptic against the wound.

The swelling is bad—angry and purple with a faint sheen of blood around the edges. I glance around the room, then at Stone. “We need to get an ice pack.”

Stone jerks his chin toward the corner of the room, where a sleek black mini-fridge sits half-hidden beside his dresser. “Don’t have ice up here but I’ll get a cold beer.”

I immediately stop him from rising, tightening the blanket around me as I cross the room and crouch in front of the fridge. Inside is sparse—just a few bottles of water and beer, but the cold air that hits my face is a welcome reprieve from all the emotions battering my consciousness. I grab a beer and turn back to the bed.

“This will have to do,” I say, wrapping the beer in the hem of my blanket before pressing it lightly against Finn’s eye.

He hisses softly at the contact but doesn’t pull away. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“You’re full of bruises,” I counter.

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