Page 16 of Knot Broken

He nods like I’ve handed him a checklist and he’s already figured out the first ten steps. “Done. We’ve got a couple of options. I’ll show you after we get you settled.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat catching me off guard. They're serious. They want mehere.Comfortable. At ease.Home.

I don’t know what to do with that. I mean, I knew this is how packs are supposed to be. This is what I wanted. But knowing and experiencing are two vastly different things.

Dare climbs out last, slower, more measured than the others. His storm grey eyes track every shift in my posture,every flicker of emotion across my face. I can feel it; it is quiet attention. The way he’s already trying to read what I’m not saying.

His dark hair is tousled from the drive, a lock falling across his brow. He lets it stay. There’s something unguarded about him in this moment, even though I know he’s anythingbutunguarded.

“If you hate it,” he says, casual but firm, “we’ll find something else.”

He hefts the last two bags over his shoulder, not even breaking eye contact.

“I’ll buy a whole different house if that’s what it takes.”

The scent of bourbon wafts toward me—warm, grounding, familiar now. It wraps around my nerves and calms them instantly, even as his words hit me square in the chest.

“What—no,” I laugh, almost startled. “This house is beautiful. It’s perfect.”

And it is. Which is the problem?

Because I’m still standing here, useless, while three lethal alphas—my alphas—carry my belongings like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like they’regladto do it. I feel dumb that I wasn’t expecting this.

The inside of the house hits me like a soft breath after a storm—unexpected and warm in a way I hadn’t prepared myself for.

It matches the rugged elegance of the exterior, but still somehow surprises me. The entryway opens into a wide living room with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams that stretch like old bones overhead. A massive stone fireplace anchors the space, dominating the far wall like a protectivesentinel. It looks like it could swallow a grown man whole, and part of me wonders how many winters it’s seen, how many nights they’ve spent curled around it, waiting out the world.

The walls are painted in deep, earthy tones—charcoal grays, warm browns, and muted greens that calm the noise in my head. Thick, dark wood furniture fills the room—not modern or flashy, but solid, reliable. The kind of furniture that’s meant tolast.

But it’s the little things that make my chest ache.

A well-worn pair of boots kicked off by the front door. A half-read book resting open on the arm of a leather chair. A cozy blanket—soft and inviting—draped across the back of the couch like someone had just left it there a moment ago.

And it smells like them.

Espresso. Sage. Bourbon.

The scent wraps around me like a blanket, seeping into my lungs and settling into my bones. My omega stirs, purring quietly under my skin. I ignore her. Barely.

“How about a tour?” Jex asks, his voice gentle, his smile softer than I’ve ever seen it.

He gestures toward the living room as he steps ahead of me. “Main gathering area. Fireplace works like a charm. Couches are basically made for napping. Just don’t sit in Fox’s chair unless you’re ready for a dramatic monologue.”

Fox snorts from behind me. “Hey, if she wants the chair, she gets the chair. Just don’t drool on it.”

I roll my eyes as my sneakers scuff softly along the hardwood floors, the sound echoing faintly in the vast space. “You act like I’m some slobbering beast. I’m perfectly housebroken, thank you very much.”

Fox grins. “That remains to be seen.”

They lead me into the kitchen, and if the living room made my heart flutter, the kitchen stops it entirely. Gleaming countertops stretch out beneath rows of dark wood cabinets. The fridge is massive—industrial-sized stainless steel like the ones you see on cooking shows—and my mouth actually drops open a little.

Dare catches my reaction and smirks. “We like to eat. That’s fully stocked with whatever you want. If there’s something missing, we’ll get it.”

The idea oflivinghere still feels surreal. Like I’m trespassing in someone else’s dream. But the way they’re watching me—not pushing, justhoping—keeps tugging me deeper.

“Got it,” I murmur. “Food. Good.”

Fox chuckles and tilts his head toward the hallway off the main space. “Come on, doll. We’re just getting started.”

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