Page 58 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Look, Ren—” Jax starts, then stops. His jaw clenches. This is hard on him. He isn’t only walking on eggshells around Finn, he’s having to do it with Ren, too. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s not okay,” Ren says flatly. “None of this is okay.”

The truth of those words settles like lead in my stomach. My mind drifts back to the cabin, to Hailey. It’s just another reason why telling them of her existence is so hard.

“We’re trying,” Jax says quietly.

“Are we?” Ren’s voice is cold. “Because from where I’m sitting, we’re just making everything worse.”

Jax’s jaw clenches again and the silence envelops us once more.

Time feels like it’s ticking by slowly, as if it’s been moving at a snail’s pace all day. Meetings dragged into other meetings until my brain went numb. Tapping my phone screen, I see the time is just after midnight.

I’ve been gone the whole day. I hope the omega, Hailey, is alright. She’s not like Finn. Of course, she isn’t. Finn has had a relatively regular life as an omega while Hailey suffered at the hands of some cruel organization I still can’t find any intel on. Finn is used to being alone, and even if that’s not right—omega’s need to always have some level of comfort and surety—he’s stable.

Since discovering Hailey, this is the longest I’ve left her alone in that cabin. I have to hope she stays put. Three days trying to gain her trust and it feels like we’re barely moving.

I let out another huff of a sigh and Jax’s gaze finds mine in the rearview.

“We have to tell him,” Jax suddenly says. “But we have to all agree to. We have to tell Finn exactly what happened two and a half years ago.” His words hang in the air between us, demanding an answer I’m not ready to give. A flash of silver pulls my attention to the road—a car weaving erratically ahead. My heart jumps into my throat.

Jax’s curse is drowned out by squealing tires as he slams the brakes. The seatbelt bites into my shoulder as our SUV pitches forward, the world tilting as the silver sedan cuts across our lane, close enough I can see the driver’s oblivious face in their side mirror.

“Fuck!” Jax curses, gaze flicking back to the rearview. But this time, his gaze doesn’t find mine. It goes to Ren.

The silver sedan speeds away into the darkness, but we’re all frozen in place, the echo of screeching brakes still ringing in my ears. Through our bond, I feel the moment Ren’s composure shatters—his anxiety spikes sharp like broken glass beneath my skin. His breathing changes first, becoming shallow and quick, though I know he’s trying to hide it.

“Pull over,” I say quietly to Jax, already reaching for Ren.

Ren shakes his head, his fingers now white-knuckled against his thigh. “I’m fine,” he manages, but the words come out tight, strained. “Keep going.”

But I can feel how his heart is racing, how the memories are crowding in—the screech of metal, the sickening crunch, Finn’s scent thick with blood. Through our bond, the echo of that terror bleeds through, no matter how hard he tries to contain it.

Jax is already steering the SUV to the shoulder. The moment we stop, I slide closer to Ren. My hand finds the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair there as I press my forehead against his. I expect him to shove me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets me stay, my thumb stroking slow circles against his hairline.

His scent floods my senses—sandalwood tinged with smoke. The alpha in me responds instinctively, wanting to soothe, to claim, to protect. When his breath ghosts across my lips, my body stirs with familiar heat. Even now, even with everything broken between us, the pull is undeniable.

“Breathe with me,” I murmur, keeping my voice low and steady. “Just breathe.”

Ren shudders against me, and I feel the moment his control slips. His alpha scent deepens, becoming richer, more potent. My fingers tighten in his hair, drawing a low sound from his throat that ignites warmth that spreads low in my gut. The bond between us pulses with shared need, with memories of countless nights spent burning away our demons in each other’s arms.

But now isn’t the time. Not with Finn hurting, not with a strange omega in our territory. Still, when Ren’s hand finds my thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise, it takes everything in me not to respond. To not give in to what we both desperately need.

When was the last time we kissed? Even during Finn’s last heat, everything had been mechanical, clinical. We’d done what was needed, driven by biology and duty, but there had been no tenderness. Just pain and primitive instinct and the hollow echo of what we used to be.

My fingers continue their soothing motion against Ren’s nape, and gradually, his breathing starts to match mine. His scent is still sharp with anxiety, but the edge of panic begins to fade.

He draws in a shuddering breath, then another. His hand finds mine in the darkness, gripping hard enough to hurt, but I don’t pull away. I can feel him fighting it, trying to push down the panic, to maintain control. But his scent is saturated with distress, sharp and bitter with fear. The kinds of things you don’t want to smell on an alpha. The kinds of things he works so hard to hide from Finn every day.

In the front seat, Jax has turned around, his worry pulsing through our bond. We watch as Ren struggles to piece himself back together.

When my gaze finds Jax’s, I give him a slight nod. Jax is right. We need to tell Finn. We need to tell him why everything changed in the last two years.

Ren pushes against me, shoving me away. The ice in his eyes would chill me if I wasn’t used to it.

“Back off. I said I’m fine.”

Jax releases an audible breath from the driver’s seat. “You’re not fine. None of us are fine.”

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