Page 117 of Chain Me Knot

“You’ve been here before?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

He offers a small, rumbling chuckle as he glances at me. “Nope. First time. But we all studied the floor plans inside and out. We went over every layout, every exit and stairwell. I know this building like the back of my hand.”

Relief bites through my anxiety. Of course they’d do that. Ronan leads us out onto a landing overlooking the grand ballroom three stories below. The echo of music and dozens—no, hundreds—of voices float up on a glittering current, rising through ornate railings and gilded archways.

The crowd is a living sea, the lights from crystal chandeliers washing over shimmering gowns, sleek tuxedos, and jewels that wink at every turn. Alphas and betas shoulder against each other, everyone striving to be seen. The air is charged: excitement, hunger, ambition moving in ripples across the crowd. It’s a world away from the quiet shadows up here.

On the third level, the pace is slower. Just a scattering of older alphas and betas, men in dark suits with lines of silver at their temples, talking quietly in small circles or staring down at the spectacle. There’s a sense of a preference to watch rather than mingle with the crowd below. I realize, with a grateful breath, that I would never survive in that mass. The energy is suffocating from here. I don’t think I could even draw breath if I were pressed between them.

My eyes search, heart clenching, but I spot none of my alphas in that jostling throng. Just strangers, secrets, and flashing teeth beneath velvet lights. I try to tell myself that’s a good thing. Blending in was always the plan.

A waiter drifts by with a tray balanced high, crystal flutes shimmering with pale bubbles. Ronan snags two, handing one to me with a murmured, “Hold this. It’ll help us look like we belong.”

I swallow, turning the glass in my fingers. “I don’t want to drink it.”

He leans close, voice pitched for my ears only. “You just have to hold it. Watch.” He lifts his own glass and mimics a sip, the movement smooth and natural. But this close, I see the trick—his lips never actually touch the champagne, and not a drop leaves the rim.

It’s a small deception, but it settles me. Ronan has more control over this night than I imagined.

There’s a subtle shift in the current below. A ripple in the music of voices, laughter thinned to hush. I peer down to see Axel Turns stride through the grand front doors, the crowd parting for him like oil from water. He’s flanked by his pack—two enormous alphas in formal wear so dark and sharp they look like hired executioners. Their bulk dwarfs the fragile omega between them: Aubrey, small and heartbreakingly delicate, sandwiched tight between their bodies.

The commissioner radiates authority, head high, prowling forward with the impatience of a man used to getting everything he wants. Aubrey, so much smaller, willow-thin in a pale suit, doesn’t even look up. His gaze is fixed on the polished floor, shoulders rounded in on himself. Even from far above I see how he shakes, his body trembling.

Aubrey walks with his pack, locked in by his bonded alphas on either side, moving in perfect step as though this is all choreographed, yet his spirit is utterly alone within that group.

Rage flares in my chest, hot and white, coiling behind my ribs until I’m shaking. The commissioner, swaggering like a king, is the architect of this living hell—the one who built the prison Aubrey can’t escape, the one who shatters omegas likeLeah, myself and so many others. The urge to drive my nails into the handrail is so strong my fists ache with it.

How dare he? How dare he walk in here adored and untouchable, with that beautiful, terrified omega caged by his side? The urge to scream, to tear him down in front of everybody, burns through my veins like acid. If there were ever a doubt about what we had to do tonight, there isn’t anymore. He’s hurt my alphas, my sisters, every omega who’s ever looked out of a cage. I want him ruined. Exposed. I want to see him shake the way Aubrey does, stripped of all his power, knowing what it means to be afraid.

I grit my teeth and blink away the sting in my eyes, grounding myself in the quiet rage and the knowledge that tonight, finally, he will not be untouchable. Not anymore.

Body heat warms my back as Ronan adjusts his stance behind me. Close, but not close enough to touch, his presence is a solid warmth. For a heartbeat, I think he’s drifting nearer for the view, but then I realize he’s shielding me. Making himself a silent wall between me and the spiral of malevolence below.

His voice is a low, rumbling promise in my ear. “This is the last night the commissioner walks free. His omega won’t be caged like that again. None of them will. I swear it.”

His certainty, so quietly spoken, so absolute, so full of righteous fury, lodges under my breastbone, pushing back the tightness and letting me breathe just a little deeper. I nod, unable to trust my voice, letting the comfort and protection of his promise sink into wire-drawn nerves.

The room is packed, and everywhere I look there’s security. Uniformed officers line the walls and doors, earpieces glinting. They’re shoulder to shoulder, the perimeter too tight for comfort. My instincts tighten, every cell in my body prickling with the reminder that this must be the commissioner’s doing because of what he’s here to do.

Trade omegas as though they’re property.

“We have to move and look like we’re blending in,” Ronan says quietly.

He leads us in an unhurried stroll down the hallways. We don’t loiter anywhere, drifting slowly but with seeming purpose along the wall, never letting ourselves stand out. Just a couple among many, gliding from one vantage point to another, but scoping out as much as we can. Faces blur and lights flicker, and I feel the press of eyes. Not just the security, but partygoers, alphas, betas, even the predatory glances from some omegas’ packs who notice a stranger among them. I might be in disguise, but there’s only so much I can do to hide my omega designation.

A sharp, twisting cramp clenches through my belly, so sudden I pause, hand tightening on the railing as I ride it through. Ronan’s dark eyes sweep over me, concern flickering in his gaze. “Are you all right?”

I force a small, brave smile, willing my frame to straighten. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just stress.” My voice is steady, even if my heart is not.

Twice I’ve cramped tonight. Or is it three? With the stress of everything I haven’t been keeping track. Gods, please don’t let this be a heat spike. I just have to hold off for another hour or two. Just until we can save Leah. I can fall apart later.

His silent companionship keeps me moving when all I want to do is double over and hide. I draw on his strength, holding myself together for one more breath, one more moment, knowing the real collapse has to wait until Leah is free.

The air curdles and something sick and cold winds through my gut when I spot Pack Carmichael stride through the entrance. Bile creeps up my throat, and Ronan has my back again, taking my elbow when I stumble.

“You can do this, Omega,” he says.

I lock my knees and send him a sharp nod, willing my stomach to settle as they enter as though they own the place, dressed in sharp suits, expensive watches, and shoes glossed to a mirror shine. I see that their smiles are practiced and blinding, their laughter too loud, pulling attention to them like moths who have no idea their wings will get singed when they fly too close to the flame.

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