Page 37 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Just, uh, put it away when you’re done,” I manage, hurrying out of the kitchen before he can see the horror on my face. Anything to keep moving. To keep from falling apart right here in our kitchen.

Ourkitchen. But for how much longer?

Stone has been seeing an omega.

The truth slams into me, fracturing everything I thought I knew.

Does he…does he love her? Does he want her more than he wants me?

My heart feels so heavy I fear it might break and I’ll die right here in the corridor.

And even though I’m walking away, trying to put distance between me and Stone, the memory of that scent feels like it’s permeated my very nostrils and has embedded itself within my head.

Sweet. Pure.Feminine.

Everything I’m not.

I almost shatter by the time I reach the utility room. The pieces start falling into place with sickening clarity. Are Jax and Ren in on this, too? Is that why they’ve been staying out so late? Leaving so early each morning? Is that why they can’t even look at me?

I’ve been trying to ignore the possibility, trying to pretend their actions meant something else.Anythingelse. Because admitting the truth means acknowledging that all my efforts—the perfectly cooked meals, the meticulously maintained home, the way I’ve tried to make myself smaller, quieter, less needy—have failed. That I’ve failed. That maybe I was never enough to begin with.

My silent sobs threaten to rip me apart.

“Finn?” I hear Stone call from the kitchen. My pulse stutters painfully. I can’t let him see me like this. Can’t let him know I have the faintest idea. Reaching up, I switch off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

He hadn’t gone straight to his room tonight. With my meeting him at the back door, he hadn’t had time to go and shower, and maybe his exhaustion and his hunger worked in my favor. Even though what I discovered is breaking me apart.

I press myself against the wall in the dark utility room, hands clasped over my mouth to keep quiet. Through the open door, I hear the scrape of Stone’s fork against the plate, the soft clink as he sets it in the sink. The sound of the tap as he scrubs it clean.

He’s waiting, probably wondering where I went. Probably hoping I’ve gone upstairs so he can shower, wash away the evidence of where he’s been.Whohe’s been with.

His footsteps pause in the hallway. “Finn?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my breathing to steady. After what feels like forever, I hear him sigh, then the sound of his footsteps as he heads up the stairs.

I wait until I hear his door close before I move. My legs feel weak, shaky, but I force myself forward. I have to know. Have to be sure.

The house is silent as I creep up the stairs, avoiding the spots I know will creak. The faint strip of light beneath Stone’s door cuts a pale line across the dark hallway. Holding my breath, I creep past Jax and Ren’s room, hyper-aware of every tiny sound. The showerstarts up, water hitting tile, and I count to thirty before easing Stone’s door open just enough to slip inside.

The bathroom door is ajar, steam curling out in lazy tendrils. His laundry basket sits just inside, next to the sink. A few steps. That’s all I need. The shower’s rhythm doesn’t change as I slide forward, eyes on the dark shower curtain. My fingers close around the basket’s edge, and I start to lift. Stone groans under the spray, making my heart slam against my ribs, but the water keeps running, steady and unchanged.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the shirt on top. It’s the one he was wearing earlier. The one with the scent like…

I press the fabric to my nose and nearly whimper. For a charged moment, I swear Stone stills behind the shower curtain—something in the way the water droplets hit the tile—before he continues showering again. His scent hits me first—strong, familiar,home. Despite everything, I respond, wanting to burrow into that smell forever. To wrap myself in it until I can pretend nothing’s changed.

My body betrays me with its instinctive reaction—warmth pooling low in my belly, my scent sweetening with longing before I can control it. Even now, after everything, the omega in me still recognizes him as mine. The cruel irony makes my eyes burn with fresh tears.

But then I catch it. Underneath his scent, woven through it like delicate threads. Honey. Vanilla. So pure it makes something deep within me constrict.

The scent is…perfect. Devastatingly perfect. Like summer sunshine, sweet dreams, and everything good in the world. Even through my pain, I understand. How could anyone resist this? How could my alphas not want this?

A treacherous part of me wants to seek out this scent, to find its source and understand what makes it so irresistible. To see the omega who carries it—is she small and delicate? Does she laugh easily? Does she fit perfectly against Stone's chest in ways my too-tall frame never could? The thought makes me dig my nails into my palms until I feel the sting of breaking skin.

I sink to my knees, still clutching his shirt. The other omega’s scent seems to mock me with its perfection. No trace of wrongness. No hint of damage or pain. Just pure, sweet omega.

Everything I used to be. Everything I can never be again.

A sound escapes me—something between a sob and a whimper—and I quickly stuff the shirt back in the basket before hurrying from the room.

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