Page 33 of Knotting else Matters

“Sure, but it’s nice of you. Especially since you two… well, let’s just say you don’t exactly get along.”

I snorted, wiping the sweat from my brow with the towel. “She’s… spirited.”

“Spirited?” Karl chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. I was worried she’d be miserable here, but… I don’t know. Maybe she just needs some time.”

“Time for what?”

“To feel like she belongs.” Karl’s voice softened, and something in his expression changed—warmer, a little sad. “Liv’s been through a lot. More than she lets on.”

I remembered the scene at my parents’ house, the subtle, venomous way Lena had smiled, the casual, sharp remarks she’d thrown at Olivia like daggers.

“And how’s that divorce going with your human?”Lena had asked, her voice dripping with fake concern.

I’d watched the way Olivia’s shoulders tightened, the way her smile became brittle. But it was the next comment that made something in me snap.

“Is he picking you clean?” Lena had pressed, her tone light, almost cheerful.“Humans are so… selfish. Always taking. That’s why mating is different. It’s sacred.”

I’d never seen Olivia’s face so pale, her jaw so tight. But she didn’t break. Not there. Not in front of them.

My wolf, however, had snapped to attention. A low, possessive growl rumbling in my chest, sharp and sudden. Because that was the moment I realized—she was free. Unclaimed. Not tied to anyone. Not bound by a mate.

Fair game.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand human marriages. I knew the concept, understood the vows they exchanged, the bonds they claimed to share. But wolves? Wolves were different. Mates were sacred. Lifelong. Untouchable. And even the most reckless, Alpha-hole side of me would never touch another’s mate.

But Olivia was no one’s. Not anymore. And when I’d seen the way Lena had twisted that knife in her, the way she’d made Olivia feel small, feel worthless… my wolf had snapped to another decision.

If Lena ever disrespected her daughter like that in front of me again, I wouldn’t hesitate. My wolf was ready to rip out Lena’s throat.

“Adrian?” Karl’s voice pulled me back, his smile fading slightly, concern flickering in his blue eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I lied, forcing the tension in my shoulders to relax. “And Olivia will be fine too. She’s tough. Stronger than most give her credit for.”

Something softened in Karl’s gaze, a hint of relief. “I’m glad you see that. Just… try to make her feel comfortable, okay? She’s been through hell. And Sophie… well, Sophie worries about her.”

“I will.”

Karl smiled, his usual cheerful demeanor returning as he grabbed his towel. “Good. Now, come on. Let’s see if you still remember how to spar, old man.”

The mats were a familiar comfort beneath my bare feet—soft enough to prevent any serious injury but firm enough to ground me, to remind me of every sparring match I’d ever won, every lesson in control and power. And Karl, of course, was grinning like a fool, his towel tossed aside, his stance light and easy.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this, old man?” he taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his arms loose, ready.

“I was ready before you were born.” I smirked, rolling my shoulders, letting the familiar focus settle over me. “Try not to cry when you lose.”

“Oh, I won’t cry. But you might.”

He moved first, fast and low, aiming a sharp jab at my midsection. I twisted, sidestepping, catching his wrist and yanking him forward, using his own momentum to send him stumbling. But Karl recovered with the ease of someone who’d been doing this since he could walk. He spun, his leg sweeping out in a low arc.

I jumped, narrowly avoiding his kick, and threw a punch that he blocked, our forearms clashing with a sharp, satisfying crack. The grin never left his face.

“Not bad,” he panted, circling me. “But you’re slowing down, big brother.”

“Or maybe you’re just getting predictable.” I lunged, feinting a right hook before ducking low, sweeping his legs out from under him. He crashed to the mat, laughing even as I lunged to pin him.

But he twisted, rolling us both, his knee pressing against my ribs, one arm trying to lock my shoulder.

“You know,” he grunted, his breath hot against my ear, “I should probably apologize.”

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