Page 11 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

It’s sound. Logical. Frustratingly, infuriatingly so.

“And while we’re playing detective, what happens to Hailey, huh?” I barely maintain the whisper, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“We’ll find her,” Jax promises, his expression hardening with resolve. “But we do it smart. And we do it together.”

I take a deep breath, forcing the rage down, compartmentalizing it into a cold, sharp focus. “Fine,” I say again. “Let’s go.”

We re-enter the gala, the contrast between the cool night air and the stifling warmth of the ballroom momentarily disorienting. The party continues uninterrupted, most guests blissfully unaware of the violence that occurred just outside. The music plays on, champagne flows, laughter rises and falls in waves.

It’s nauseating.

I scan the room, searching for that sleek black dress, that midnight hair. Veyra is still here—I can feel it. She wouldn’t leave, not when doing so might raise suspicions. No, she’d stay, play her part, maintain the façade of normalcy while her people take Hailey God knows where.

And there she is, still holding court near the marble staircase, surrounded by admirers and sycophants. Her smile is polite, practiced, but there’s a predatory edge to it that I can’t believe I missed before.

“There,” I murmur to Jax, nodding in her direction. “By the stairs.”

He follows my gaze, his expression hardening. “Surrounded by people. Big players in the game. The governor. Head of police. This isn’t the place, Ren.”

But I’m already moving, cutting through the crowd with single-minded determination. People step aside, responding instinctively to the barely contained violence in my posture, the alpha rage that must be rolling off me in waves.

I hear Jax curse behind me, trying to keep up, but I don’t slow down. All I can see is Veyra. All I can think about is Hailey in the hands of the Academy. All I can feel is the burning need to make someone pay.

Veyra sees me coming. Of course she does. Her dark eyes track my approach, her expression betraying nothing, not even a flicker of concern. Just that same polite, distant smile, as if I’m simply another guest coming to pay my respects.

I’m halfway across the room when conversations begin to falter, heads turning to follow my progress. I must look like a storm approaching—all barely contained fury and wild intensity.

But then…she smiles. Gaze locked with mine, the bitch smiles.

I stop a few feet away from her. For three pounding heartbeats, the gala disappears. There’s only her jasmine scent cutting through the copper stench of Finn’s blood on my cuffs. Only the way her smile stays perfectly measured while her right thumb taps twice against her glass.

She knows I know.

The knowledge only feeds my rage, confirming what I already suspected. Veyra knew who Hailey was the moment she saw her tonight. Knew what her presence meant. Knew what she had to do to protect her secrets.

And now Finn is injured and Hailey is gone, all because I wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t vigilant enough, wasn’t strong enough to protect what’s mine.

By the time I reach her circle, the tension in the air is thick enough to cut. Conversations around us have died, guests watching with the avid interest of spectators at a bloodsport.

“Mr. Ironwood.” Her voice carries across to me. “How is your omega? The poor thing seemed quite…distressed earlier.”

The stem of my glass snaps in my fist. Champagne and blood drip between my fingers. I don’t remember picking it up.

“Ren.” Jax’s warning vibrates through the hand clamped on my shoulder.

Veyra’s security detail shifts as I step forward. The governor leans in to whisper to her. She dismisses him with a laugh that makes my molars grind.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Ironwood?” she asks. “You seem rather…disturbed.”

My hands flex at my sides. I could cross the distance before her bodyguards clear their holsters. Could drive that broken glass stem into her carotid and watch her perfect composure bleed out on the pristine white tiles?—

Jax’s grip becomes vise-like. “Look,” he hisses against my ear.

The Minister of Defense. Two Supreme Court justices. Even the mayor. All watching me like I’m an unstable chemical about to combust.

Veyra’s smile widens.Checkmate.

What a bitch.

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