Page 120 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

He nods. “Heath wasn’t acting alone. She had—has—protection at high levels. Which means even with the public exposure, even with the evidence your omega released, there’s a risk this all gets buried.”

The implications sink in slowly, a cold weight pressing against my chest. If Heath has allies within law enforcement, within the justice system itself, then the danger to our pack hasn’t passed. It’s simply evolved.

“Do you have names?” I ask, leafing through the documents with greater urgency.

“Not yet. But we’re close.” Riordan watches me process this new information. “Whoever it is has access to evidence storage, police databases, witness protection protocols. That narrows the field.”

I close the second folder, my mind already racing through contingencies, protective measures we should implement. “Whyshare this with me? This goes past what I did to help your cousin.”

Riordan offers a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re partners now, aren’t we? Twenty percent stake in your Burlington operations buys a certain level of transparency.” He leans forward slightly. “Besides, your pack has a vested interest. If Heath’s protectors decide you’re a loose end that needs tying up…”

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. The threat is clear enough.

“What do you suggest?” I ask, not because I need his guidance but because I want to gauge his intentions.

“For now? Vigilance. Security. We’re tracking Heath, and we’ll continue investigating her connections here.” He stands, signaling that our meeting is concluding. “My people will be in touch with updates. If you learn anything relevant, I expect the same courtesy.”

I rise as well, tucking both folders into my jacket. “Understood.”

He extends a hand, which I take after only a brief hesitation. His grip is firm, direct, like the man himself. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m genuinely sorry about what happened to your mates. No omega deserves what Heath and Caldwell were doing—trafficking, forced heats, auction blocks. It’s medieval.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises me. For all their ruthless methods, the Ashgraves do have a moral compass.

“Thank you for this,” I say, nodding toward the folders in my jacket. “And for your help at the facility.”

“Partners,” he says again, releasing my hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

He’s about to move away when I remember something else. “Hey.”

Riordan pauses. Looks at me.

“There’s a missing omega. One who escaped with Hailey. Her name’s Vi. She has purple hair. That’s all I know. If your men see her…”

Riordan nods. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

Meeting concluded, I retrace my steps through the warehouse, mind churning with the new information. Heath’s alive and on the run. Caldwell’s possibly still alive as well. Corruption within law enforcement threatening to unravel the case against them. And through it all, the constant, gnawing fear that our pack remains vulnerable.

The black sedan is waiting where I left it, the driver impassive as ever when I slide into the backseat.

“Where to, sir?” he asks.

“Downtown,” I reply, not wanting to return directly home until I’ve had time to process everything Riordan shared. “The train station.”

As the car pulls away from the warehouse, I scan our surroundings out of habit, noting the desolate landscape of abandoned buildings and empty lots. We’re nearly back to the main road when movement in the side mirror catches my attention—a dark sedan pulling onto the road behind us, maintaining a careful distance.

It could be nothing. A coincidence, another vehicle happening to leave the industrial district at the same time. But coincidences aren’t something I’ve ever put much faith in.

I watch the sedan for several minutes as we navigate back toward the city center, noting how it mirrors our lane changes, maintains a consistent distance, never quite closing the gap but never falling too far behind either.

“The black sedan three cars back,” I say to the driver, keeping my voice casual. “Do you recognize it?”

He glances in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowing slightly. “No, sir. Not one of ours.”

“How long has it been behind us?”

“I noticed it as we were leaving the warehouse district,” he admits. “But I assumed it was additional security for Mr. Ashgrave.”

I shake my head, continuing to monitor the vehicle. “No. Their security is more discreet.” Decision time. The old me—the one who operated alone, who kept the pack at arm’s length—would handle this myself. Find a way to lose the tail, double back, identify the threat and neutralize it if necessary.

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