Page 34 of Chain Me Knot

As twilight deepens, I notice cameras mounted at strategic points around the property, their small red lights blinking against the darkening sky. Watching. Always watching.

A soft knock at the door tightens my chest.

“Emma?” Soren's voice filters through the wood. “Are you hungry? I've prepared dinner if you'd like to join us.”

I hold my breath, willing him to go away. Despite the hunger gnawing at my stomach, despite the smell of food that reaches even here, I can't face them again. Can't navigate another meal of careful conversation.

Seconds tick by, leaving me to wonder if they’ll give me a choice. If their words are meaningless. Then his footsteps retreat down the hallway. He didn't demand a response. Didn't open the door to check on me. Just... accepted my silence and left.

And I…don't know how to process.

Full darkness falls. Hunger becomes a constant, painful companion. I know how to endure starvation, but now... now there's food available. Phoenix said the kitchen was open to me anytime. Said I could help myself. Easy words, but do they mean them? Is this another test? Another way to catch me breaking rules I don't know exist? My head is so fucked up I just don’t know. I’m driving myself insane and that gnawing hunger isn’t helping. Now I’ve been able to eat, my body is hyperaware of what it needs and my stomach demands food.

I creep downstairs. A light shines from the living room, voices drifting out—tense, serious. I freeze on the bottom step, torn between retreat and the promise of more food just beyond the kitchen door.

“—emergency hearing tomorrow morning.” An unfamiliar male voice, slightly tinny through what must be a speakerphone. “Pack Carmichael is demanding immediate return of their 'property.' Their lawyer is good.Connected.”

I press against the wall, hardly breathing.

“We’ll find another way. One that doesn't require her to trade one form of bondage for another,” Asher says.

“I'm doing what I can on my end. But... prepare for the worst. Winters rarely rules against documented ownership. Just get me that letter. I’ll extend the process as long as I can.” The voice I don’t know speaks.

“We're not letting them take her. I don't care what the law says,” Phoenix says.

“We won’t. Even if it means our badges,” Asher confirms.

My hand flies to my mouth, stifling the small sound that escapes. They'd risk their careers? Criminal charges? For me? That's...impossible. Alphas don't sacrifice for omegas.

Too late, I realize the conversation has stopped and I look up to find three pairs of eyes fixed on me from the living room doorway.

Chapter Thirteen

Emma

Ilock my knees when all I want to do is run back to the safety of my bed. Not that it's my bed, or that it's safe, or will stop alphas scrutinizing my every move, but my stupid omega instincts aren't reasonable. The Carmichaels did whatever they wanted to me. I had no control over my body, even when my mind screamed to get the fuck away, my body still begged on my hands and knees for them. I'll never forget their laughter when I pleaded for their cocks, writhing for them in my own sweat and filth—that cruel, satisfied sound seared into the darkest corners of my soul. I crush the thought and stomp it down, down, down.

I clear my throat, trying to wet the desert in my mouth. “You'd risk criminalcharges? For…me?”

“We’d riskeverythingfor you, omega. If we haven’t been clear enough, let us tell you now without any question. No matter what happens to us, you will never go back to Pack Carmichael.” Asher rasps the words over gravel in his throat and steps toward me, one hand extended, but he moves too fast. Too sudden. My survival instincts engage against the largest threat in the room. I stumble backward, shoulder blades hitting the wall behind me, all reaction and no grace.

He’s not the only threat. They all are. Big, powerful alpha threats that make my insides quiver, with deep growls and delectable scents that fuck with my mind, and I don’t want that. Don’t want my stupid, senseless omega side lusting after alphas. That path has offered nothing but misery. If there was a way to carve it out of me, please hand me the knife. I’ll willingly sever any body part if it means peace.

Asher freezes, and I’m not sure he’s even breathing as his hand drops to his side. “I'm sorry, Emma.”

I ignore his deep frown and the flash of pain on his face as a torrent of his emotions unleashes into me. I read them all as quickly as I name them. Fear that he's frightened me again. Self-loathing for his inability to approach me correctly. Despair at the damage done. Joy that I'm here, speaking to them. Hope that somehow this—whenever thisis—can be fixed.

But underneath the whiplash of emotions is a current of unmistakable lust—not predatory or demanding, but present nonetheless.

The last emotion sets my nerves on fire. I don't want another alpha lusting after me, no matter how different they seem or how their scents sink into my skin, warm my bones and prime my body to release a gallon of slick.

“Just—stay away from me.” Gods, please just stay away.

Asher backs up three full steps, giving me space I didn't expect. “I shouldn't have moved so quickly. I should have known better.”

I hate that I feel unhinged. Hate it even more that they see it and what makes it worse is the fact he acknowledged it. That he listened to me and backed off is a miracle in and of itself.

It’s not something I’m going to dwell on. “You didn't answer my question. Did you mean what you said? That you'd risk everything to keep me from going back to them?”

---