Page 93 of Knot Your Baby

“Take him back to Freya,” Thorne orders me as Zane carefully transfers the baby to my arms. His voice is deceptively calm, but his eyes promise retribution. “Zane and I need to have a conversation with our friend here.”

The operative kneels in the dirt, hands zip-tied behind his back, face bruised but defiant. I nod, understanding what’s about to happen.

We need to get out of here.

The sun is setting through the forest, and the sky is turning darker.

Freya hasn’t let go of Stone since I returned him. Her knuckles are white where she grips the blanket. She looks up as Thorne approaches, her eyes flickering over his bloody face as fear and relief battle in her face.

Zane jumps in the car next. “It’s done,” he says, his voice rough from exertion. “We’re clear to move.”

I catch Thorne’s eye. “And?”

“Someone contacted O’Hearn, telling him he was a father.”

“It must be Maya.” The name falls like a stone from Zane’s mouth.

Thorne nods. “I believe that’s the case, but let me deal with it.”

Freya makes a small sound of distress.

“I told you about her,” Zane says flatly. “She was obsessed with you and you never helped the matter.”

“I will deal with her. And I suspect Patrick O’Hearn will too if she is the one who gave him the information.” I watch Thorne’s face harden, then soften as he looks at Freya and their son. He reaches out, his bloodied knuckles a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch as he strokes his baby’s cheek.

“What now?” Freya says. “Are we safe?”

“We’re going home, and we’ll let no one touch you again,” Thorne says to Freya, wrapping a protective arm around her.

I catch Zane’s eye when Freya softens against Thorne’s hold. It’s not just her, though. We’ve both known Thorne and recognize the change in him.

Our pack is whole now. Different, but whole.

And God help anyone who tries to break it apart again.

Chapter 27

Freya

Cinnamon and baked applesmells fill the kitchen as I slide the tray of pastries into the oven.

It’s been three days since the ambush, since Stone was taken from me, and this is the first moment I’ve felt anything close to normal.

My hands still shake sometimes when I think about those harrowing moments, but these three alphas have purred around me for three days now, comforting me and letting me recover quietly in their home.

And now, I’m covered in flour with the rhythm of baking beneath my fingers, I know I’ve found my center again.

“Something smells amazing.”

I turn to find Thorne leaning against the doorframe, his powerful frame softened somehow by the casual black tee-shirt and jeans he wears. He’s been different since the hospital—since everything—and I’m still trying to understand the sudden shift.He knows about Stone now. And I’ve waited for him to ask me more. I suppose I’m also wondering why he hasn’t gotten annoyed that I did what I did that night.

“Apple cinnamon rolls,” I say, wiping my hands on the apron I borrowed from his kitchen. “I hope that’s okay. I just needed to...”

“Bake,” he finishes for me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Miller told me it’s how you process things.”

“He did.” I bite my lip to stop a smile creeping onto my face. The fact that they’ve been talking about me, learning about me, has a lovely warmth skittering through my chest. “It helps me think.”

Thorne steps into the kitchen, his movements careful, as if trying not to startle me. “Would you make something else for me? For lunch?”

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