Page 42 of Knot Ruined

I shove the stack aside and dig through the clutter until I unearth my phone, squinting at the screen. A group video call. Violet and Odette. Of course.

With a sigh, I swipe to answer and prop up my phone against a small stack of ‘qualified’ resumes, ensuring they get a good view of the absolute chaos I’m buried under. I came into my office in leggings and a soft pink sweater. At least I don’t have to wear shoes.

The moment their faces appear, Violet snickers. “Bitch, are you working?”

Odette, ever the enabler, grins. “Be nice, Vi. Our Fallon is a hero.”

They’re both laughing, and I let out a long suffering sigh, rubbing at my aching temples. I swear, my shoulders feel like they’re carved from stone at this point. How the hell am I supposed to get anything done when it feels like someone’s been using my spine as a tension rod?

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair and rolling my neck until it gives a satisfying pop.

My office is usually my sanctuary, a place of warmth and control, but today, it feels more like a war zone. The large mahogany desk that once looked sleek and professional is now covered in stacks of paper, resumes, and financial reports. The floor-to-ceiling windows on one side let in too much light, making my head throb harder, but at least they offer a view of the city skyline instead of the disaster on my desk.

“So what’s the crisis this time?” Odette asks, arching a perfectly groomed brow.

“My Boston location had a walkout,” I say flatly, gritting my teeth at the memory. “The manager refused to tell me why, and now I have to shut it down temporarily.”

“Oh, shit.” Violet’s face scrunches in concern. “What about the brides’ dresses?”

On the screen, she looks comfortably curled in her nest, makeup-free, hugging a bright purple pillow that’s only a few shades lighter than her hair. Lucky bitch. She looks so cozy, so unbothered, while I’m here drowning in responsibilities.

I let out another exhausted sigh as I start shuffling the stacks of resumes, separating them into dramatic piles—” Absolutely Not” and “Qualified.”

“Luckily, there were no outstanding orders—somehow. But something felt off, so I hired a financial investigator. Something about the numbers isn’t adding up, and I’m not about to get screwed over by someone playing dirty with my business.”

I almost laugh to myself at how ridiculous it sounds. But knowing my luck? It’s probably worse than I think.

Odette lets out a breathy sigh through the video, and I immediately take notice. She sounds slightly winded, and it takes me a second to really look at her.

Her orange-blonde hair is curled around her face, slightly damp at the edges from the wind. She’s dressed in workout clothes—leggings, a fitted top, and a light jacket tied around her waist. I squint at the screen, suspicion curling in my chest.

“O, what are you doing?”

Before she can answer, Violet groans loudly, throwing her hands up like she’s just discovered a crime scene. “O, come on. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Odette rolls her eyes dramatically, letting out another breath as she shifts the camera slightly. “I’m headed to the gym. Don’t worry, I borrowed Henry.”

The screen tilts, shifting the view, and Henry’s back enters the frame. My giant, intimidating, no-nonsense bodyguard, keeping pace just slightly ahead of her, his presence a silent but undeniable force. He’s dressed in his usual dark suit, barely even winded, his sharp eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

The second his gravelly voice rumbles through the speaker, some of the tension leaks out of my chest. “Hey, kid. Did your… friends get home okay?”

I exhale, not even realizing how tightly I’d been wound up until now. I didn’t realize how afraid I’d been of my best friends. I don’t know if I would survive without them. They are my one constant in this life. I know Mom loves me, but she has other priorities. I should call her.

“Oh, yes. Each one had a family member pick them up. Some needed a little extra help, but I think they’ll all be okay in time. Robert says hi, by the way.”

I keep my tone light, but we both know we’re being deliberately vague. I think Voss’ paranoia has bled into me because I can’t shake the feeling that discussing this too openly—even now—is dangerous.

Once Robert finished ushering the omegas inside, something shifted. It was like Callie fully came back to life. Thank the Gods, because she was really starting to worry me. She initially reacted to me, then returned to how she was when they arrived. The way she’d been staring blankly, barely reacting, barely breathing. It had sent something cold into my chest. But the second Robert was safe. It was like her soul snapped back into place.

There were more hugs, tears, and whispered promises that they’d be okay. Kingston made sure they all got home safely.

I spent time with each of them, ensuring they were clean, comfortable, and not alone. We had already stocked up on extra sweats before the rescue, knowing they’d need something warm and soft to slip into. The house had plenty of unused rooms, and we set them up in one of the larger, empty ones on the other wing. They refused to be separated, so we made sure they didn’t have to be.

I stayed with them as they called their packs, their families. Some of the conversations were quiet, soft sobs and whispered reassurances. Others were loud, frantic, packs demanding to know where their omegas had been taken. I held a few of them as they broke down mid-call, their bodies shaking with the weight of fear and relief crashing together all at once.

But my heart still aches the most for Mary.

She was the one they had the longest. She was so small, so frail, her body nothing but sharp angles beneath her oversized clothes. She was so weak she couldn’t even hold the phone, so I had to put it on speaker for her.

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