Page 47 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Slowly, I reach out and take his hand.

“I’m Finn,” he says softly as he helps me up. “And I promise, whatever’s happening here, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

Chapter 15

Hailey

Each step away from the cabin feels like walking through molasses. Like my body is fighting the very idea of leaving the small space that has become my entire world these past few days. That foolish part of me even feels less secure at the thought of abandoning the alpha—St-Stone’s scent, which lingers in the clothes I wear.

But I follow Finn.

He moves with a confidence I’ve never seen in an omega before. His bare chest still rises and falls with slightly labored breaths—aftershocks from his panic attack, I think—but his steps are sure, purposeful.

Every snap of a twig makes me flinch. Every rustle of leaves has me searching for threats. But Finn’s sage scent wraps around me like a shield, keeping the worst of my panic at bay. What’s more is that he doesn’t seem afraid.

Once more, his sense of surety, his rightness in the world, his confidence, his freedom makes me dare to hope.

“Watch your step here,” he says softly, pointing to a raised root. His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it that speaks of barely contained emotion. “The path gets trickier in this section.”

I nod, unable to find my voice. Everything feels too big, too open after the confines of my cell back at the Academy. Even the cabin was too spacious. I try to see ahead, to get a sense of where we’re going, but the forest stretches endlessly in every direction. Every second that passes, my pulse beats harder at the thought of being so exposed.

When a bird calls overhead, I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s just a bird. Just a bird, Hailey!

Finn pauses, glancing back at me with those storm-gray eyes. Something shifts in his expression as he watches me grab a tree trunk with one hand, my fingers digging into the bark. His gaze travels from my white-knuckled grip to my rapid breathing, then up to the canopy above.

“That’s a Hermit Thrush,” he says softly, tilting his head toward the sound. “They’re shy little things, usually hide in the understory.” He points upward, movements slow and careful, like he’s trying not to startle me. “See that brown one with the spotted breast? The way its tail has that reddish tinge?”

I track my gaze to where he’s pointing, squinting against the dappled sunlight. There, on a branch not far above us, sits a small brown bird. Its melody rings out again. Clear, flute-like notes that spiral upward through the trees.

“They’re solitary,” Finn continues, his voice gentle as morning mist. “But their song…it’s one of the most beautiful in the forest. Some people call it the ‘Voice of the Northern Woods.’”

The bird tilts its head, studying us with bright eyes before launching itself into flight, disappearing deeper into the forest. I watch it go, my grip on the tree loosening slightly.

When I look back at Finn, there’s something different in the way he’s watching me now—like he’s seeing more than he’s saying, understanding more than I want him to know.

“Y-you know a lot about birds,” I whisper. It feels weird having a conversation like it’s normal. Actually speaking without being ordered to.

“Stone knows more.” His jaw ticks and he looks away. “He’s the one that taught me.” The moment is broken as he turns and continues picking his way through the trees. “We’re almost there,” he says. “Just a little farther.”

I want to ask where “there” is exactly, but words seem beyond me right now. Instead, I focus on his back, on the way those scars shift with his movements. They tell a story—one of pain, yes, but also survival. Whatever happened to him, he lived through it. He’s still here, still walking tall, still…free.

The thought makes a strange warmth rise in me.

Finally, after several long minutes, the forest starts to thin. Through the trees, I catch glimpses of something large and solid. A house? My steps falter as more details come into view. It’s beautiful—all warm wood and large windows, with a wraparound porch that seems to embrace the building.

Finn stops at the edge of the clearing, and I can see tension ripple through his shoulders. “This is home,” he says, but there’s something in his voice. Pain? Uncertainty? “We’ll go in through the back door. The others won’t be back until late.”

Others. The word makes my stomach clench. “The alpha?” I whisper.

He flinches slightly. “Stone won’t be back until tonight. Neither will…” he swallows hard. “Neither will the others.”

Others. There are more alphas? The revelation makes my heart stutter in my chest, but I force my feet to keep moving as Finn leads me toward the house. His earlier words echo in my mind: “Stone is one of my alphas.” One of. Plural.

The back door opens into what looks like a utility room. The moment I step inside, I’m hit with a wall of scents that makes my knees weak. Alpha. Multiple alphas. Their combined scents are so potent, so deeply embedded in the space, that I immediately have the urge to drop to my knees. But there’s something else, too. Something that makes my nose twitch and my head spin.

It’s like what Stone’s scent does to my head only compounded.

Finn’s scent is here too, woven through the alpha scents in a way that speaks of belonging. Of claiming. Of…pack.

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