Page 113 of Knot Your Baby

Cheers are all around, and I close my eyes, savoring the moment. La Petite Rose is open, and my heart is full.

“It looks like we’re open for business,” Zane whispers in my ear.

“You can do this, Freya,” Miller says as I glance at the customers lining up at the door.

“Thank you.”

“Love you, Freya.” Thorne presses a kiss on my temple as my mother, holding Stone, opens the door.

She gets a few looks, but she doesn’t react like she normally would. Instead, she says, “This is my daughter’s bakery. Isn’t it wonderful?”

I smile.

After all the darkness, all the pain, all the doubt—this is where my life was heading. I’m in the arms of my pack and surrounded by love while building a future sweeter than any pastry I could ever create.

Epilogue One - Miller

Two months later

The hospital corridor isfinally quiet after the chaos of the morning rush. I check my watch—two more hours until my shift ends. Two more hours until I can see her.

I flip through the chart of my last patient, a young omega with a broken arm, and a story about falling from a helicopter when a man tried to kidnap her. After asking more questions, I leave her to make a call to the number assigned to omegas in danger and wait.

“Dr. Miller,” a nurse calls from the station. “We’ve got a walk-in with chest pains.”

I nod, tucking the chart under my arm. “I’ll be twenty minutes. I have an issue to deal with.”

“I’ll pass it onto Dr. Holmes.”

This is what I love about emergency medicine. Not only helping omegas deliver babies into the world. But the constant motion, the problem-solving, the knowledge that every moment matters. But lately, I’ve watched the clock more and more, eager for the moment I can walk out those doors and into the life I’ve built with my pack.

With Freya.

Three hours, one omega now saved, and two minor emergencies later, I’m finally free. I change out of my scrubs in the locker room, checking my phone to find a text from Thorne:

Meeting at the bakery. Important. Bring the paperwork.

My heart races as I respond,

On my way.

The drive to La Petite Rose takes exactly seven minutes. I’ve timed it repeatedly, always calculating the fastest route between the hospital and wherever Freya might be. It’s not an obsession; it’s preparation. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I see the dangers omega’s face. Hell, our omega did too, recently.

It’s also because I love to see the smile on her face whenever I get home.

The bakery is quiet when I arrive, the afternoon lull setting in after the lunch rush. Through the window, I can see Zane wiping down tables while Thorne sits in our usual corner, his laptop open. Freya is behind the counter, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, flour dusting her apron as she pipes delicate rosettes onto a cake.

I pause for a moment, just watching her. The concentration in her eyes, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her tongue peeks out between her lips as she focuses—I could watch her forever.

The bell chimes as I enter, and her head snaps up. The smile that spreads across her face makes my chest tighten.

“You’re early,” she says, setting down her piping bag.

“Slow day,” I reply, walking over to drop a kiss on her lips. “Just mild catastrophes, nothing major.”

“Your favorite kind,” she teases, returning to her work.

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