Page 17 of Knot Ruined

For all the pain and the hours wasted, all we got out of him was one pathetic scrap of information.

M.

That’s it. Just a single goddamn letter.

I stare at the mess before me, frowning, irritation coiling in my gut like a slow burn. He could have just told us more and saved himself from suffering, but men like him? They never learn.

With a sigh, I wipe the blade of my knife against his torn shirt, watching as he shudders involuntarily, his remaining eye fluttering like he’s trying to hold on.

Pointless.

I turn away, rolling the tension from my shoulders as I step out of the pit. Kingston and Jace are already ahead of me, their footsteps steady, unhurried.

Marco falls into step beside me as we leave the building, crumbling the empty peanut bag. I glance at him, already knowing what needs to be done. “Call a cleaning crew,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “We have a wedding to get ready for.”

Marco snorts, popping the last handful of peanuts into his mouth before grinning. “Good luck with that.” His laugh follows us to the SUV, low and amused, as I slide into the back seat, exhaling slowly.

Honestly, we might need it.

Chapter Four

Fallon

February 14th

5:06 P.M

I stare into the mirror, heart hammering, because the woman looking back at me isn’t me. She’s poised, elegant, ethereal—nothing like the woman I’m used to seeing.

My breath catches as I lift a trembling hand, fingertips grazing over the delicate cascade of tiny flowers woven into my hair. The soft curls are pulled back just enough to frame my face, a few wisps left loose to brush against my cheekbones, making the look feel effortless, almost whimsical. My makeup is softer than I expected, enhancing instead of concealing, making my blue eyes seem brighter, my skin fresh, glowing like I belong in a fairy tale.

A subtle shimmer of glitter dusts my cheekbones and collarbone, catching the light with every breath, like I’m wearing the last remnants of a star-streaked sky. My lips, painted in a deep nude shade, feel unfamiliar. The color makes me look more mature than I’ve ever felt.

The dress is everything. Ethereal, breathtaking, like something out of a dream I never dared to have.

My hands hover over the fabric, fingertips barely grazing the soft layers of sage green tulle that flow down my body, pooling at my feet like mist rolling over the forest floor. It’s delicate but structured, the bodice wrapped in intricate folds that hug my curves, cinching at my waist before cascading down in weightless, gossamer waves.

A high slit parts the fabric as I shift, revealing a teasing glimpse of bare leg, a contrast to the softness of the dress, reminding me that beneath all this delicate elegance, I am still me.

But the cape—oh, the cape.

It drapes over my shoulders, a glittering waterfall of sequins and sheer fabric, catching the light like it was woven from stardust. Every subtle movement sends a shimmer dancing across the walls, the tiny flecks of gold and silver making me feel less like a bride and more like something untouchable—something divine.

I exhale slowly, pressing a hand to my stomach, my pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. I should be nervous. I should be second-guessing everything. But as I take in the way this dress makes me feel—like I belong in it like it was made for me, a small, quiet certainty settles deep inside my chest.

I don’t know what’s waiting for me at the altar. But I feel ready for the first time since this whole arrangement began. I hope this can be a good marriage. When I’ve tried to find someone or a pack in the past, they have always found some fault in me. The one that got me the most was I was too “dark” of a person, and they wanted someone more cheerful. Whatever the fuck that meant.

“Fallon? Oh my—”

My mother’s voice catches on a gasp, and when I turn, I see her standing just inside the room, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other clutching her chest like she’s trying to steady her heart. She’s wearing a gorgeous light yellow suit. I love that. It looks fantastic on her, and I’m happy she stayed true to herself.

Her amber eyes shimmer, caught somewhere between pride and overwhelming emotion, and for a moment, she looks like she doesn’t know whether to throw her arms around me or start sobbing.

I lift a warning finger, already feeling the telltale burn behind my own eyes. “Mom, if you cry, I’m going to cry, and then we’ll both be a mess.” She lets out a watery laugh, dabbing at her eyes, but I see the way she’s drinking me in, memorizing this moment. Before the emotion can swallow us whole, the door pushes open again, and Violet and Odette slip inside, bringing a wave of energy and warmth with them.

Violet, of course, is the first to react.

“Oh my god.” She stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide, jaw-dropping. Then, in true Violet fashion, she lets out a dramatic sigh, fanning herself. “You look sexy as fuck. If your husbands don’t want you, I’ll take you.”

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