Page 41 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

My entire body heats like some betrayal of myself.

I push it away and focus on following the winding trail that leads to the cabin. The sunlight filters through the canopy, creating dappled patterns on the forest floor. Everything looks so peaceful, so normal. Like my world isn’t crumbling with each step I take.

I pass the old maple where Ren once carved our initials, myfingers brushing the bark as I walk by. The marking is still there, though weathered now: J+S+R+F, enclosed in a rough heart. How long ago was that? Before everything changed? BeforeIchanged?

The path curves around the lightning-struck oak—the one that looks like a grasping hand reaching for the sky. Its blackened branches do seem to claw at the clouds today, like they’re trying to tear holes in the perfect blue expanse above. I remember the storm that struck it, how we all huddled together in the nest, how Jax held me close when the thunder made me jump.

My chest tightens at the memory. When was the last time any of them held me like that?

I can’t remember. Because they’ve all been holdingherinstead.

The cabin comes into view through the trees, and I freeze, heart pounding against my ribs. It looks exactly the same as it always has—weathered wood, small porch, windows slightly dusty from disuse. Or what should be disuse.

Because there’s something different. Something in the air. A presence.

Herpresence.

I know I’m not imagining it. I haven’t gone mad, have I? This isn’t all in my head.

I stand there staring at the cabin, hoping that some voice of clarity will come and tell me this is all one big misunderstanding.

Releasing a long, slow breath, I take the first step.

I’m here now. I might as well find out for real.

As I creep closer, I stay in the shadow of the trees.

The steps to the porch will creak if I try to climb them—I remember that from previous visits—so instead, I edge around to the side window. The one that looks into the main room. The one where I used to spy on Stone and wonder why he would rather be on his lonesome all the way out here instead of being with me.

At first, I see nothing through the glass. Just the familiar furniture: the small table, the cot in the corner. But then?—

My heart stops.

There’s a thick, fluffy blanket on the cot. One that makes me want to dip my face in it and wrap it all around me. Perfect for an omega. And there, snuggled under the fluffy layers, is a face.

The world stops spinning.

I was right?

My heart splinters and cracks into a thousand pieces.

I was right. Only now do I realize that this entire time, I hadn’t truly believed it all. That I’d really been hoping I was going insane.

A breath chokes from my chest, forcing me to breathe as my focus fastens on the omega’s face. Even in sleep, she’s beautiful. Her hair spreads across the pillow in perfect waves—deep brown roots transitioning to caramel and honey-blonde highlights that catch the morning light streaming through the window. The curls add dimension to the color, making the gradient between shades look artistic, intentional. Vibrant. Glamorous.

Everything about her looks soft, perfect. The way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. The gentle curve of her lips. The peaceful expression that says she feels safe here. Protected.

A small sound escapes me—part whimper, part keen—before I can stop it. So fucking weak. So fucking useless. I should have been born an alpha. Fuck, even being a beta would have been better than this. Would have saved me this pain.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. Her eyelids flutter, and I duck below the window, heart racing. Seconds tick by like hours as I press myself against the cabin wall, barely breathing.

When I finally dare to look again, rising slowly to peer through the glass, the bed is empty. The blanket lies rumpled where she was sleeping, but she’s gone.

I scan the room frantically, but it’s dark in there with only the morning light from the window seeping in. And there’s no sign of her. Did she hear me? Is she hiding? Calling my alphas to tell them I’m here?

The thought sends panic coursing through me. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have seen?—

But Ididsee. Can’tun-see.

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