Page 164 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

Stone wordlessly hands him the letter. Ren joins us moments later, drawn by the sudden tension resonating through pack bonds. By the time both have read the message, the kitchen vibrates with barely contained rage, their protective instincts in full flare.

“Absolutely not,” Ren states flatly. “You’re not meeting with them.”

“They have no right,” Finn adds, his usual softness replaced by hardness. “No right to contact you, to demand anything, to even acknowledge your existence after what they did.”

“How did they even find you?” Stone asks, practical even in anger. “Your location has been kept private.”

“They dropped it off at the gym,” Jax says. “That means they know she’s Ironwood, and that we’ve claimed her, but they don’t know exactly where she lives. That’s why there’s no return address on this envelope—it was dropped off in person.”

The realization that my parents don’t know where I actually live provides a small measure of relief, quickly overwhelmed by the larger implications of their contact. After years of doing nothing to save me, after selling me like property, after everything that’s happened,now they reach out? Not with apology or explanation, but with a demand.

“I’ll go,” I hear myself say, the words forming before conscious decision.

“What? No!” Finn’s protest is immediate and vehement. “After what they did to you? Theysoldyou, Hailey. Totraffickers.”

“I know what they did.” My voice sounds calmer than I feel, a strange detachment settling over me as I reclaim the letter from Jax’s hand. “That’s why I need to go. To finish this. To close this last open door.”

The alphas exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them that I’ve learned to recognize—assessment, strategy, protective calculation.

“Not alone,” Jax says finally, not a request but a statement of fact. “We’ll be there.”

“If they see you, they won’t show,” I point out. “You read the note. ‘Come alone or not at all.’”

“Fuck that.” Stone frowns. “We’ll be in the diner, but not with you. Close enough to intervene if needed.”

I consider arguing further, insisting on handling this final confrontation truly alone, but the determined expressions surrounding me make it clear this is a non-negotiable point. And truthfully, I’m grateful. The thought of facing my parents without my pack’s strength supporting me makes my stomach clench with a fear I thought I’d moved beyond.

“Okay,” I whisper, hating that my voice has gotten small again. “But you let me handle it. No matter what they say, what they do.”

“Agreed,” Ren says after a moment, speaking for all of them. “Your lead, our backup.”

“Friday,” Finn notes, checking his phone for the date. “That’s tomorrow.”

“Good,” I say, surprised by the certainty I feel. “I don’t want this hanging over us any longer than necessary.”

The easy joy of our shopping day has evaporated, replaced by a familiar tension I’d hoped was behind us. But as I look around at my pack, at the four faces watching me with unwavering support and fierce protection, I find my resolve strengthening rather than wavering.

This is the final piece, the last lingering connection to my old life that needs addressing.

“We’ll be ready,” Jax assures me, pulling me into a protective embrace that the others quickly join, surrounding me with pack scent and solidity. “Whatever you need from us, however you want to handle this, we’re with you.”

Within that circle of unwavering support, I feel my momentary fear transforming into something stronger, more determined. I’ve faced Heath and survived. I’ve testified before cameras and emerged stronger. I’ve watched my captors die and found peace in the aftermath.

I can face my parents. I can finish this last chapter and close the book for good.

“Thank you,” I say simply, looking around at the four people who have become my real family, my true pack, my home in every sense that matters. “For everything.”

Chapter 35

Hailey

Jim’s Diner squats at the intersection of two streets, a grimy establishment that’s seen better decades. The neon sign flickers intermittently, several letters permanently dark, creating an unintentionally ominous “J_m’s D_n_r” effect against the twilight sky.

“Charming locale,” Ren observes dryly as we look at the establishment from our parked car across the street. “Very on-brand for your parents.”

I say nothing, but silently agree with his assessment. This diner represents exactly the kind of place my parents frequented—cheap, anonymous, slightly disreputable. Fuck, Ma even worked there for a bit.

The choice to meet here feels deliberate. A reminder of where I came from.

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