Page 29 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

More dangerous, somehow.

I strain against the restraints, testing their give. Nothing. They’re padded where they touch my skin. Not for comfort, I know, but to prevent marks. Merchandise can’t be damaged where clothes can’t hide it. That was always Widow’s first rule.

A door slides open somewhere behind my head. Footsteps approach. Someone wearing heels. My heart rate spikes, the monitor beside me betraying my fear with a quickened beep.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to join us.”

That voice. Smooth as honey, cold as ice. Veyra Heath steps into my field of vision, immaculate in a tailored ivory suit, not a hair out of place. My heart lurches at the sight of her, reminding me of all those times I’d heard that exact same voice, and had no face to put to it. That’s not the case now. They didn’t put a blindfold on me. Guess it’s not necessary anymore.

She studies me with the detached interest of a scientist examining a lab specimen.

“Do you know what time it is, little pig? Nearly ten in the morning. You’ve been unconscious for nine hours.” She sighs, checking something on the tablet in her hand. “The sedative was meant to wear off hours ago. Always so difficult, even down to your biology.”

I try to speak, but my mouth is dust-dry, my tongue sticking to the roof. Veyra notices and holds a straw to my lips. Despite everything, I drink greedily. The water is cool, slightly sweet. Probably laced with something, but I’m too thirsty to care.

My gaze slides back to her, all my fear and hatred for this bitch wrapped up in one.

She catches the look in my eyes, and a soft laugh snorts through her nose. “Brave, aren’t you?”

I don’t know what she means. I only know that I want my hands free so I can claw that disgusting smile off her face.

“Do you think your alphas are coming for you?” she asks when I finish, setting the cup aside. Her tone is conversational, as if we’re catching up over coffee. “Your…pack, I believe you call them?”

I say nothing, but my traitor heart beats faster, the monitor’s beeping increasing slightly.

Veyra’s smile is thin. “I thought as much. How sweet.” She sets the tablet down on a nearby tray and perches on the edge of my table, her weight causing it to shift slightly. “They’re not, of course. Coming for you.”

“You don’t know them,” I manage to say, the words scraping my throat.

Her laugh is musical, genuine amusement lighting her eyes. “Oh, you fat pig. I know them better than you do.” She leans closer, her scent—jasmine and something distasteful—suffocating me. “I know exactly what they are. What they want. Why they kept you.”

A muscle in my jaw twitches. “You don’t know anything about my pack.”

“Yourpack?” Veyra’s eyebrows lift, her smile widening. “My dear, you were never part of any pack. You were a project. A charity case.” She straightens, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from her suit. The smile on her face bleeds away under her skin as if it was never there. “Do you have any idea how much money you’ve cost me? How muchtrouble? The client who wanted you was willing to pay seven figures.Seven. And you ran.”

I bare my teeth. “Go choke on a knot.”

Her eyebrow arches. Then she laughs, bright and delighted. “Oh, you’ve gotten feisty.” Her fingers trail along the edge of the table, nails painted the same glossy black as her shoes. “Did they make you believe you were pack? That you mattered?”

I don’t answer. My pulse hammers in my throat, but I won’t give her the satisfaction.

Veyra blinks, watching me. “You’ve changed. Grown a spine since you left us.” She taps a manicured finger against her lips. For a moment, she simply watches me. The fact makes my skin crawl.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, suddenly tired of the games. “Why bring me here instead of just killing me?”

“Kill you?” Veyra looks genuinely shocked. “Why would I destroy such a valuable asset? No, no. You’re going back into the program. After some… reconditioning, of course.”

The words send ice down my spine, but I refuse to show it. I’ve been through her “reconditioning” before. I survived. I’ll survive again.

“It won’t work,” I tell her, meeting her gaze directly. “Not anymore.”

“Because of your alphas?” She makes a dismissive sound. “Please. Ren Ironwood is damaged goods—a rebellious heir who thinks he can play hero. Stone Ironwood is all muscle and no finesse. And Jax Ironwood? In way over his head. His business is failing, and so is his pack.” She leans closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “They never wanted you, Hailey. They only wanted to spite me.”

I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. “You think this is about you? That they even knew who you were before the gala?”

Something flickers in her eyes—doubt? Surprise? But it’s gone before I can be sure.

“It doesn’t matter what they knew,” she says, recovering smoothly. “What matters is what happens now. To them. To you.”

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