Page 249 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Hey, I earned these,” Finn protests, but there’s a lightness to his voice that makes my heart swell. “Besides, you’re just jealous because you can’t eat six of them without your perfect abs disappearing.”

“Six?” Jax raises an eyebrow. “Last time it was eight.”

“That was different. I was—” Finn cuts himself off, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

“Coming off your heat?” Stone supplies gently, and this time Finn doesn’t tense at the words. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. “You’re coming off your heat now.”

“Yes, fine. I was hungry. Sue me.”

The easy banter continues as we work our way through our meals. I get up for seconds—the mac and cheese really is that good—and when I return, Finn is in the middle of another story.

It feels…normal. Like we’re just a pack having dinner together, sharing jokes and memories. My pack. My family. My heart swells and for a moment, I can almost forget about the host’s strange behavior, about the lingering sense of being watched.

Finn pops the last roll into his mouth, brushing crumbs from his fingers, and that’s when I see it: a folded scrap of paper, tucked neatly under the edge of the empty plate where the rolls had been.

My stomach twists.

I glance around the table, but no one else has noticed it yet. Stone is leaning back in his chair, his phone buzzing faintly against the table. Finn is laughing at something Jax just said, the sound light and carefree in a way that makes my chest ache.

I reach for the note slowly, careful not to draw attention to myself. The paper is soft, worn like it’s been folded and unfolded a dozen times, and when I open it, my pulse stutters.

“Not safe.”

The words are scrawled in a hurried, shaky hand. There’s no signature, no explanation, but I don’t need one. I glance toward the kitchen, but Carol is nowhere to be seen. The new host is standingat the front of the restaurant, still stiff and nervous, his eyes darting around like he’s expecting something—or someone.

The buzzing of Stone’s phone pulls me back, sharp and insistent. He glances at the screen, frowning slightly, then sets it face-down. A moment later, it buzzes again. And again.

“Everything alright?” Jax asks, his voice low.

Stone’s jaw tightens as he finally checks the phone. I see the moment his face shutters.

“Hailey…”

My breath stops as I glance up to find Finn staring at the note in my hand. His expression grows grave as he reads the two simple words.

“Where did this come from?” he whispers, looking around with renewed alertness.

“It was under the bread plate,” I murmur. “I think Carol might have?—”

“Cancellations,” Stone interrupts, his eyes still fixed on his phone. “Three clients just backed out of next week’s appointments. All within the last five minutes.”

Jax’s attention shifts between Stone’s phone and the note now lying in front of Finn. “What’s that?” he asks, nodding toward the paper.

Finn slides it to the center of the table where both alphas can see it. “Someone’s trying to warn us.”

Jax reads the note silently. His eyes meet Stone’s.

The comfortable atmosphere from moments ago feels suddenly fragile, like glass about to shatter. I think about the host’s too-smooth smile, his abrupt disappearance. About Carol’s worried eyes. About how everything had seemed almost normal, just for a little while.

“Here?” Jax finally says out loud, his whisper low. “In public? Do you think they’re that bold?”

Stone’s throat moves. He doesn’t answer. His fingers drum once against the table—the only outward sign of his disquiet. “I’ve had to reschedule plenty meetings over the years, especially these past few weeks with everything going on. But this…” He shakes his head. “Three high-profile clients, all canceling at the same time, all citing ‘unforeseen circumstances’, and then this…note.”

“We need to leave,” Jax says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now.”

As Jax places cash on the table and we gather our things, Stone’s phone buzzes continuously, like an angry hornet trapped in his palm.

“All of them,” he says quietly, scrolling through message after message. “Every appointment for the next two weeks. All cancelled within the last ten minutes.”

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