Page 31 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

I take the stairs two at a time, stripping off my wet clothes the moment I hit my room. The omega at the cabin needs food and more clothes and blankets, pillows…fuck. I stop for a moment, catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair’s plastered to my head, the ends curling and sticking out here and there, and I’m drenched.

Downstairs, I hear Jax and Ren enter. Hear them talking to Finn before a set of hard footsteps comes upstairs, disappears into Ren’s room, and the door slams shut.

Blankets? Pillows? Fuck, I’m acting like I’m planning on keeping this omega in that cabin.

I run a hand through my hair, gripping the strands by the roots.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck FUCK.

But I have to. I have to get her supplies and real food. Need to make her feel safe. Need to make sure she knows she can trust me.That I care. And Finn’s cooking…fuck, his cooking could make anyone feel cared for.

Guilt wars with necessity as I pull on dry clothes. Quick movements, efficient. Can’t waste time. She might have run. Might be out there in this rain, alone and terrified. I’ve been gone for hours. The thought makes my hands shake as I drag a t-shirt over my head.

Back downstairs, I pause at the kitchen doorway. Finn’s at the counter unloading the dishwasher. His movements are methodical, measured. Like everything he does these days.

“I’m heading out,” I say softly. His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn. “Might be late.”

“Again?” The word is barely a whisper. “It’s raining, Stone. I thought…I didn’t think you’d be leaving again.”

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Again.”

He nods, still not looking at me. “Be careful in the rain.”

I should leave. Should turn and walk away. But my feet carry me to the fridge instead. The pasta sits on the middle shelf, perfectly portioned and wrapped. Next to it, other containers filled with the meals he makes daily, hoping one of us will stay home long enough to share them.

Making a decision I know I’ll hate myself for later, I grab the pasta. “Thanks for cooking.”

His scent brightens slightly—just enough to make my chest ache. “Of course.”

I hear the TV switch on in the media room, probably Jax, as I’m reaching for my keys. With a held breath, I slip out the back door before he can corner me, the container of pasta clutched against my chest.

The rain feels colder now, or maybe that’s just the guilt. The path to the cabin is dark, but I know where I’m going.

Please still be there, I think as I push through the wet undergrowth.Please don’t have run.

I don’t know why it matters so much. Don’t know why findingher in those woods feels like fate or destiny or whatever bullshit people call it. Don’t know why her terror makes me want to burn the world down, or why her tiny attempts at bravery squeeze something vital within me.

I just know I can’t let her run. Can’t let her face this world alone.

Not when she looks at food like it might be poison. Not when she kneels like she expects pain. Not when her eyes hold shadows no omega should have to carry.

And because…fuck…because her scent calls to me, every primal instinct, in a way that shouldn’t be possible. A scent match for a pack like mine? Some god is laughing in our faces.

The cabin comes into view, a solid shape against the rain. It’s dark. No light in the windows. Nothing.

My heart slams against my ribs as I take the steps two at a time, all pretense of moving slowly forgotten. The container of pasta nearly slips from my rain-slick hands as I fumble for the door handle. Fuck. No. She can’t be gone. Not in this weather. Not alone.

“It’s just me,” I call out anyway, desperately hoping she’s just being cautious about the lights. The silence that follows makes my chest constrict. I can’t catch her scent through the rain, can’t tell if…

I push the door open, holding my breath. “I brought food,” I add softly, not sure if I’m talking to an empty room or not. The darkness inside is so fucking thick I can’t see my hand in front of me, and for a moment all I can hear is the rain and my own thundering heart.

Please be here. Please.

The door squeals as I step inside and push it closed, water dripping from my clothes onto the wooden floor. The strong scent of honey and vanilla almost makes my knees buckle. Too strong for it to be the remnants of her presence. She’s still here. My eyes strain against the darkness, searching for any movement, any sign. Thealpha in me wants to snap on the lights, to command her to show herself, but I force that instinct down. Hard.

“I know you’re here,” I say softly, letting my eyes adjust. “You don’t have to hide.”

---