Page 31 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

Veyra’s smile doesn’t waver. “Such faith. Such devotion.” She places a cool hand on my forehead. “Tell me, little pig. What makes you so certain they’ll risk everything for an omega they’ve known for what? A month? Two? Less?”

Through the growing haze, a memory surfaces. Finn’s arms around me after a nightmare, his voice rumbling in his chest.You’re ours now, sunshine. Nothing changes that.

“Because,” I say, meeting her gaze with what little clarity I have left, “they love me.”

Something flickers in Veyra’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or uncertainty. For a heartbeat, her composure slips.

Then her expression hardens. The room spins, walls contracting and expanding with each heartbeat. The monitor beside me wails as my pulse races, my body fighting the drug.

“Impressive resistance,” I hear Veyra say, her voice coming from very far away. “Note that for the file.”

Another voice responds—a beta, I think. “Should we administer a second dose?”

“No. Let’s see how this plays out first. Prepare the cognitive assessment.”

Their voices fade as the drug pulls me deeper. I’m drowning in cold fire, my consciousness fracturing into a thousand pieces. Each shard holds a memory:

Finn, Stone, and me gardening, a smear of dark soil on his jaw as he laughs.

Stone purring for me after I had that panic attack.

Jax helping me calm down when my pre-heat flared.

Ren tending to my feet after I chased after him in the forest.

The memories blur, edges softening, colors fading. I fight to hold on to them, to anchor myself in the truth of who I am, who we are together.

But the drug is relentless, scouring my mind like bleach, leaving emptiness and a hot rising need in its wake.

No. No, I won’t let it take them from me.

I focus on one memory, the most recent, the most vivid. The moment before everything went wrong at the gala.

The five of us, standing together. Finn in that gray suit, his smile bright enough to light the room. Stone watchful and proud. Jax relaxed, but alert. Ren, his eyes warm when they met mine.

And me, in that dress, feeling beautiful for the first time in my life. Feeling safe. Feeling home.

Home.

The word echoes through the emptiness, a beacon in the darkness.

Home.

Not a place. People. My people.

The drug claws at the memory, trying to tear it away, but I hold on with everything I have.

“Heart rate still elevated,” a distant voice reports. “Brain activity unusual for this stage of absorption.”

“Increase the dose,” Veyra orders. “We need her compliant for the assessment, and before we deliver her to Cee. There’s not much time.”

Another needle, another burning cold spreading through my veins. The world darkens further, but still I cling to that single memory.

Home. Pack. Mine.

“Cognitive dampening at sixty percent,” the beta reports. “Seventy. Eighty…”

Veyra’s face appears above me, blurry and indistinct. “Can you hear me, little pig?”

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