Page 32 of Knot Happening

"You can't tell anyone!" The words burst out of her with desperate intensity. "Please, Theo, you can't tell anyone about this. Not Adam, not your packmates, not anyone in town. Please."

The desperation in her voice confirms what Marcus has been suspecting for months. She's terrified of being discovered, of having her secret exposed.

Belle's a hidden omega who's been suppressing her nature, probably for years. This explains everything about the way she always seems to hold herself slightly apart from everyone else. It explains why our scents cut through her suppressants when no other alpha's can, why she gets nervous around us specifically, why there's always been this underlying tension whenever we're near her.

Marcus suspected it, and now I know for certain. She's ours. She's been ours this whole time, and she's been hiding from us.

"Okay," I say softly, trying to project calm even though my alpha instincts are going haywire. "I won't tell anyone. But Belle, you're going into heat. You need…”

"I forgot my suppressants," she interrupts, her voice breaking completely. "I stayed late to finish the new book display, and I was so focused that I forgot to take my evening dose. I haven't missed a dose in years, not since..." She trails off, wrapping her arms tighter around herself like she can physically hold her biology in check.

"Since when?" I ask gently, though I think I can guess. Late presentation, probably. It's more common than people think, especially for omegas who spend their teens and early twenties convinced they're betas.

"Since I presented last year.” Her confession is barely audible, whispered like a secret she's never spoken aloud before. "Late presentation, emergency heat that lasted for days. I swore I'd never go through that again without being prepared."

My heart clenches at the vulnerability in her voice, at the fear written across her face. She's been carrying this secret for a year, managing her nature entirely on her own. No pack support, no alpha guidance, no omega community to help her understand what she was going through. Just her, alone, trying to navigate something that's supposed to be shared and supported.

"How long since your last heat?" The question slips out before I can stop it, my alpha instincts demanding information so I can better assess the situation and figure out how to help her.

“Last year,” she whispers, and the admission hits me like a physical blow. "The suppressants... they stop everything. But now..." She gestures helplessly at herself.

No wonder this heat is hitting her so hard thather body is probably desperate to make up for all that lost time, all those missed cycles. Suppressants aren't meant to be used continuously for that long without breaks. The biological and psychological effects of complete omega suppression can be severe.

"Belle, listen to me." I lean forward slightly, catching her glassy gaze and holding it. "You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you or take advantage. But you need help getting through this. Do you have somewhere secure to go? Someone who can take care of you?"

She lets out a bitter laugh that turns into a whimper halfway through, the sound so broken it makes my chest ache. "Take care of me? I don't... I've never..." She shakes her head, dark hair falling across her face. "I handle everything myself. I have supplies at home, that I need to get through this alone."

Alone. The word hits me like a physical blow, reverberating through my chest with the force of a gunshot. She's planning to go through heat completely alone, the way she's been handling everything else in her life. No support, no comfort, no one to make sure she stays hydrated and fed and safe during the most vulnerable time in her biological cycle.

The thought of her suffering through this in isolation, scared and confused and fighting her own biology, makes something savage and protective rise in my chest. No omega should have to endure heat alone. It's not just cruel, but dangerous. Dehydration, malnutrition, psychological trauma from the isolation during such a vulnerable time. The medical literature is clear about the risks.

"You don't have to do this alone," I tell her, putting every ounce of alpha authority I can muster into my voice without making it sound like a command. "I know we don't know each other well, but I can help. Platonic help," I add quickly when her eyes widen with something that might be panic. "Food, water, making sure you're safe. Nothing more than that unless you want it."

She stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see the war happening behind her eyes. The independent part of her that's been managing everything solo for a year, that's built an entire identity around self-sufficiency and control, warring with the omega part that's desperate for alpha care and comfort. The part that knows, on a biological level, that she needs support to get through this safely.

"Why?" she finally asks, her voice so small I have to strain to hear it. "Why would you want to help me?"

The question catches me completely off guard. Why would I want to help her?

Because she's our omega, even if she doesn't know it yet. And I don’t want her suffering alone, and in the space of fiveminutes, everything I thought I knew about Belle Hartwell has been turned upside down, and I'm discovering that the woman I was mildly attracted to is actually the missing piece of a puzzle I didn't even know we were trying to solve.

"Because you're too chatty for your own good," I say instead, trying to lighten the moment with the kind of gentle teasing that's always seemed to make her smile. "Too pretty. And too much of what..." I stop myself before I can finish that thought. Too much of what we need.

But she catches it anyway, her eyes sharpening despite the haze of heat that's clouding her judgment. Even in the grip of biology she can't control, her mind is sharp enough to pick up on unfinished sentences and implications.

"Too much of what?" she asks, and there's something almost desperate in the question, like she needs to know what I see when I look at her.

"Nothing," I say quickly, realizing I'm walking into dangerous territory. "The point is, you don't deserve to suffer through this alone. Let me help."

She's quiet for several heartbeats, her breathing still rapid and shallow. I can see the internal struggle playing out across her features. Her omega nature is probably screaming at her to accept help, while her rational mind is listing all the reasons why trusting an alpha during heat is dangerous.

Then, so quietly I almost miss it: "It scares me."

"What does?" I ask, though I think I know. This vulnerability, this loss of control, this need for support from someone she barely knows.

"This. You. The way you make me feel even when I'm not..." She waves a hand vaguely at herself, gesturing to her current state. "How am I supposed to trust my judgment when my body is screaming at me to trust you with everything?"

The honesty in her confession takes my breath away. She's afraid of her own biology, afraid of the way heat compromises her ability to make rational decisions. The connection she feels to me, the way her omega nature recognizes something in me that her conscious mind isn't ready to acknowledge.

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