Page 155 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“There you are,” she says when she spots me. “Finn said you were having a meaningful relationship with some dirt, but we were starting to wonder if you’d fallen into a hole.”

“Just a strategic retreat to get clean,” I reply, noting Finn’s absence. “Where is he?”

“Kitchen,” Jax answers, adjusting a floor pillow to his exacting standards. “Making enough snacks to feed a small army.”

I head that way, finding Finn surrounded by an impressive array of movie night provisions—popcorn in various stages of preparation, a tray of sliced fruits and cheeses, cookies cooling on racks, and what appears to be homemade pizza dough rising on the counter.

“Planning to feed the neighborhood?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

He looks up with a grin, flour dusting one cheek. “Just a pack of hungry alphas with insatiable appetites. The garden looksgreat, by the way, even with the Stone-shaped indentation in the middle.” He snorts a laugh through his nose.

“It’ll look better when it’s actually planted.” I move into the kitchen, reaching past him to steal a piece of cheese from the tray. “Need help with any of this?”

“You can take the finished popcorn bowls to the living room,” he suggests, nodding toward three enormous bowls filled with different varieties. “Plain butter for Ren, who’s boring; caramel for Hailey, who has the sweet tooth of a five-year-old; and spicy cheese for you, Jax, and me, because we have superior taste.”

I gather the bowls, pausing beside him for a moment. “I was serious about the garden being adjustable. If you want different herbs or vegetables than what I planned, just let me know.”

Finn looks up at me, his expression softening from playful to genuinely touched. “It’s perfect, Stone. Truly. I might have some suggestions later, but mostly I’m just…thank you. It means a lot.”

I nod, accepting his gratitude.

By the time everyone has gathered in the living room, the space has been transformed into a comfortable nest of cushions, pillows, and soft blankets arranged on the floor before the large screen. We settle into our usual positions—Jax at the center with his back against the couch, Hailey curled against his side, Ren stretched out by her side, and Finn and I completing the loose circle.

“Okay, horror movie virgins,” Finn announces, holding the remote like a prize. “Prepare yourselves for a classic of the genre. ‘The Haunting of Hyde Manor’ is horror at its finest—minimal gore, maximum terror.”

“Remind me why we agreed to this?” Ren asks dryly, though he makes no move to object as Finn starts the film.

“Because Hailey used her big doe eyes and pouting lower lip,” Finn supplies helpfully, “and you’re all suckers.”

“Especially you,” I remind him, “since you apparently ‘wholeheartedly supported her choice.’”

“Only because I know exactly who’s going to end up clinging to whom when the jump scares start,” Finn replies with a grin. “And it’s not going to be me.”

His confidence proves slightly premature. As the film progresses, I notice Finn edging gradually closer to my side.

By the halfway point, he’s practically in my lap, his hands clutching my arm tightly every time the music swells. “Scared?” I tease, leaning down to nuzzle his hair. He glares up at me, but the effect is ruined by the flush creeping up his neck.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he pulls my arm tighter around him, burying his face in my chest when the next scare comes.

Hailey, on the other hand, makes no pretense of bravery. At the first major scare, she dives face-first into Ren’s chest with a squeak of genuine fright, peeking out cautiously only when he assures her the scene has passed. Ren, for his part, seems torn between amusement at her reaction and a protective instinct to shield her from even fictional threats.

Jax watches with the analytical eye of someone who appreciates craftsmanship, occasionally commenting on camera work or sound design. His arm remains securely around Hailey, thumb tracing soothing patterns on her shoulder when tension builds in the film.

Me? I’m more entertained by my packmates’ reactions than the film itself, especially when a particularly effective jump scare causes Finn to jolt against my side.

When Hailey shrieks and buries her face completely in Ren’s shirt, refusing to look at the screen until the scene changes, Finn seizes the opportunity for distraction. He grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl at my side and launches it at me, timing his throw to coincide with a loud sound effect from the movie.

“AAAH!” he fake-screams dramatically.

The popcorn hits me square in the face, several pieces sticking in my hair. I turn to him with exaggerated slowness, lifting one eyebrow in silent warning. Finn responds with an expression of such exaggerated innocence that Jax snorts with suppressed laughter from across our circle.

“Something wrong, Stone?” Finn asks sweetly, blinking up at me with wide eyes that dare me to retaliate.

“Just thinking about all the ways I could make you regret that,” I reply mildly, plucking popcorn from my hair with deliberate care.

“Children, please,” Ren interjects dryly. “Some of us are trying to watch people be terrorized by supernatural entities.”

“Some of us are being terrorized by supernatural entities,” Hailey mutters into his chest, still refusing to look at the screen.

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