Page 92 of Knot Your Baby

“And I’ll bring him.” He swallows. “I promise I won’t fuck up. Trust me.”

She nods, biting her lip. “Then lock me inside. Just get my baby back.”

Thorne holds her sobbing face in his hands to look at him. “Breathe Freya. In and out. Please breathe for me and then I know I can leave you.”

“I’m fine. I’m breathing. I’m not dropping. I just need Stone. Please!”

“We need to go.” In the distance, I watch as a figure passes the bundle to another black-clad operative who sprints toward the tree line. This is the work of professional work. That can’t be good.

“Just go,” Freya yells.

Minutes later, we’re following the attackers to their vehicles beyond the tree line.

The operative and Stone disappear into the forest, but the security guard assures us he's a seasoned tracker in these woods.

We follow, silent and focused, ears tuned to the smallest snapping twig.

Five minutes in, I catch the scent. An unfamiliar alpha male scent and his adrenaline is spiking.

“He’s moving that way.” I point northeast toward the ridge. “Hopefully, he is slowed down by holding the baby.” I hope that’s why I can smell him, and we’re gaining ground.

“I’ll go this way,” the security guy says.

“I’ll come with you.” Thorne runs behind.

When I finally catch sight of the operative holding Stone, he’s running from the tree line to a small clearing where a helicopter waits. Rotors spin. Another operative stands by the open door, gesturing urgently.

My heart drops. Just one hundred meters and Stone is in the air.

Not happening.

I choose my moment, then step into view and point my gun. “That’s far enough.”

The operative with the baby hesitates, turns, and assesses me. “This isn’t your fight, Doctor. This baby belongs to my boss.”

My eyebrows raise slightly. He knows who I am. Interesting.

“The baby belongs to my pack,” I say calmly, despite the rage building in my chest. “I’m taking him back now.”

The operative shifts the bundle, and I glimpse tiny fingers. My throat tightens. “The baby belongs to Patrick O’Hearn, and he wants his bloodline.”

Patrick O’Hearn.The name registers immediately—the alpha hole boss of an Irish mobster pack, notorious for his dodgy dealings. But something doesn’t add up.

“O’Hearn knows damn well that the baby is not his bloodline. Why the hell does he think that?” I ask, taking a careful step forward. “I have the blood work to prove it.”

“And Patrick O’Hearn has paperwork saying otherwise.” The operative’s eyes dart to the helicopter, then back to me. “Freya Rose attended the wellness clinic. Mister O’Hearn has been waiting forever for his scent match so he could have a baby, but he’s getting older, and this one is good enough.”

“The baby isn’t his and Freya didn’t attend the clinic.”

“Of course you’re going to say that, but the truth is, the omega got pregnant with his child.” He holds Stone to me. “And he wants him.”

Before I can process that, the forest on the other side of the helicopter erupts with movement. Thorne bursts into the clearing, eyes wild, followed closely by Zane while the security guy creeps to the helicopter. He deals with the pilot and the second operative, ensuring the helicopter won’t be taking off.

I step forward, gun high, but still positioning myself to intercept if the baby is dropped. But it’s unnecessary. Thorne moves with deadly precision, disarming the operative holding his son before the man can even raise his weapon. Like they know how the other thinks, Zane grabs Stone from his arms and turns his back to protect our son.

The infant is somehow sleeping peacefully, unaware of the blood spattered across his father’s shirt.

Thorne stands in the clearing, while Zane cradles Stone against his chest with a gentleness that contrasts with the violence I just witnessed.

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