Page 107 of Chain Me Knot

I glance up, unsettled. “Security will involve cops too. They'll have APBs out on us. Doesn't help that we're technically wanted by half the precinct.”

I can’t help pushing to my feet again, unease crackling along every nerve. “We need a contingency if this shit goes sideways fast. What if they get spooked and try running with Leah in the chaos, or if she panics and tries bolting? We all know the kind of shape she's likely to be in.”

Soren rubs his fingers over his mouth. “Our original strategy still holds. All nine of us will enter together. No one splits up. Nobody wanders off solo. Once we have Leah secure, we make absolutely sure the commissioner doesn't slip away in the confusion. Anyone involved—and that includes Pack Carmichael, Carmichaels’ buyers, and the commissioner’s hired guns—doesn't get out.”

“All of it while staying incognito, until the exact moment we decide to let hell erupt.” Asher folds his arms over his chest. “Everyone wears body cams. All conversations, every second of footage recorded clearly. This isn't just a rescue anymore. It’s crucial evidence to clear our names. It has to be ironclad, undeniable.”

Cole’s voice rumbles through the speaker. “I’ll back it all up real-time off site. Any attempt by the commissioner to push back or bury this will trigger a full dropto every investigative journalist, press contact, and internal affairs hotline in the city.”

As reassuring as his confidence is, I can't shake the bitter truth that we’re teetering close to a line we can't come back from. Our tactics, however noble, certainly don't fall neatly into the bounds of law and order. Pack Blackwood can’t risk leaving any openings that could later see the whole thing dismissed in court. If Asher and my packmates end up incarcerated, repercussions won’t stop there. Pinnacle Therapeutics would grind to a halt, depriving countless omegas of support, medication, and protection they desperately need.

We simply can't let it get that far.

I clear my throat, interrupting the grim silence. “We might need an ace up our sleeve. One powerful enough to legitimize our actions and testify on our behalf if this blows back legally. Someone inside, independent, unimpeachable.” I shift as the others watch me, saying the only name who might be close to trustworthy. “Someone like Kevin Dawson.”

Soren’s brows lift sharply. For the first time since we began the planning, he stills briefly, hands pausing above his keyboard. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

I hesitate. “I'm not a hundred percent sure, but when Pack Carmichael tried to file emergency proceedings against us, he stepped up. He's risked his neck to help us before and there's no love lost between Dawson and the way omegas are treated within the system. Acting with the blessing of the head of the Legal Affairs Department would give us protection at the highest legal level.”

Adrian grunts over the line. “Hell of a gamble but you’re not wrong. Someone like Dawson in our corner would lock down any charges we bring against the commissioner. Make them bulletproof.”

Asher straightens, eyes narrowing, clearly weighing the risks. At last, his gaze turns decisive, echoing confidence that steadies my frayed nerves. “I'll make the call. I’ll vet Dawson and if he’s on board I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed. He's either completely with us, or we leave him in the dark. But, you’re right, if he steps in, his presence means the legal difference between winning or losing this fight.”

All I want at my core is to forget the plan, storm through those doors, and tear Pack Carmichael limb from limb for what they did to Emma. Rage flushes hot through me, blurring the edges of the building’s blueprint.

“Simmer down, Phoenix. We need you clear-headed, not blinded. We can’t afford anyone making mistakes when it’s time for us to act.” Asher lays his large, solid hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I take a measure of comfort that our prime has our back. Of course he does.

I just want this over. I want Emma safe. I want justice finally served so we can all live free, but there’s so much at stake, so many ways we could lose everything.

So many ways we could lose Emma.

A waft of sweet honeysuckle, wild and unmistakably Emma, drifts down the hallway. Her scent slips beneath my tension and goes straight to my cock. My thoughts derail, all strategy forgotten.

It’s been hours since I’ve seen her, touched her, or heard her soft voice.

Far too fucking long.

I glance through the kitchen window, noticing how the sky’s shifted to deep indigo, shadows pooling thick in the corners. Shit. The night’s dropped fast, and we’ve been so wrapped up in contingency planning, not one of us bastards has checked on our omega. Guilt stabs sharp through my chest. That’s not right. She’s been on her own too long.

I push back my chair, the legs scraping loudly across the floor. “I’m going to check on Emma. I need…hell, I just need her. She’s the only one who can calm me down after this much strategy.”

Soren gives me a knowing look, lips twitching, while Asher’s face softens with unspoken understanding. We’d all fight to the death for her, but sometimes we forget how she can steady every damn one of us with nothing but a smile.

“Okay, brother. I’ll finish up the call. Go and make sure our girl is doing okay,” Asher says.

Pushing out of the tension-filled kitchen, I follow the trail of her scent through the house, letting the sweet honeysuckle guide me. She’s everywhere inside thishouse now, making it feel like home more than our condo ever has, but the fragrance grows thickest as I near her bedroom.

This place is different now.

Real.

Every surface, every soft blanket or smooth bit of wood, carries some trace of Emma. Her honeysuckle has woven into the walls, her quiet presence soaking into every room. Our old condo? Nothing like this. It was always just the three of us, the air thick with coffee and leather and the leftover scent of takeout. Comfortable, sure, but empty in ways I never wanted to name because I never thought we’d be lucky enough to meet our omega. Our scent-matched mate. I can’t picture her there, surrounded by bare walls and sharp corners, with nowhere to curl up and make her own.

Here, though…it’s all her. Softness layered over strength. Light in places we never thought could feel safe. Somehow, without meaning to, she’s claimed this space. Not as a guest, but as the heart of something bigger than us all.

That realization unsettles me. It stirs up a nervous kind of awe, the sense that everything is changing, shifting into something we’ll never come back from. Part of me fears needing this softness, fears how much I crave it now.

When I step into the doorway, I find her sitting in the chair by the window, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as she watches the waves roll along the horizon beneath a darkening sky.

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