Page 45 of Knotting else Matters

He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, towering over her, his expression never changing. “If you ever make Olivia feel like that again—if you ever treat her like she’s less, like she doesn’t belong—you will answer to me. Is that understood?”

Lena’s shoulders stiffened, her eyes dropping to the polished marble floor, her head bowing, the perfect, obedient submission of someone who knew exactly where they stood.

“Yes, Alpha.” Her voice was barely a whisper, tight, strained.

“Good.” He turned away without another glance, his hand brushing against my arm, a gentle, grounding touch that sent a rush of warmth through me. “Come on, Olivia.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I followed him, my breath coming in sharp, shaky bursts, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shatter.

But even as we stepped out onto the cool, crisp night air of the garden, the heavy weight of Lena’s words still clung to me like a poison. And the quiet, fierce possessiveness in Adrian’s voice echoed through my mind, leaving me even more breathless.

It wasn’t until we reached the car that the tight, jagged knot in my chest finally snapped. My vision blurred, my breath catching in a sharp, desperate gasp, and before I could stop myself, the tears spilled over, hot and furious.

I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth, trying to choke it back, trying to force myself to stay calm, stay composed. But it was useless. The weight of Lena’s words, the sharp, familiar ache of them, the cruel, cutting truth buried beneath their polished venom—it was too much.

“Get in,” Adrian murmured, his voice low, steady, a quiet command that left no room for argument.

I didn’t even look at him. I just obeyed, sinking into the passenger seat, my fingers trembling as I wiped at my cheeks, the sharp, stuttering breaths coming faster, harder. The cool leather pressed against my back, the faint, lingering scent of cedar and something darker wrapping around me like a balm.

The driver’s door clicked shut, but he didn’t start the engine. Didn’t say a word. Just… silence. Heavy, warm, starlit silence.

And then, without looking at me, without shifting his gaze from the night sky stretching out above the garden walls, he reached over and took my hand. His fingers slipped through mine, warm, strong, steady.

“I felt you.”

The quiet, rough whisper of his voice sent a shiver through me.

“I felt your sorrow. Your sadness. That twisted ache in your chest.” He squeezed my hand, his grip firm but not crushing, a quiet, solid comfort. “It’s this bond. This broken, fragile thing I forced on you in my moment of madness. It’s not complete, not a real claim, but it’s enough. Enough for me to feel it when you hurt.”

My throat tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip didn’t waver.

“And now I know why you left.”

The words hung between us, a soft, heavy truth. His dark eyes stayed fixed on the starless sky, the faint, silvery light of the moon washing over his sharp, perfectly composed features.

“I didn’t—” My voice broke, and I swallowed, forcing the words out. “I didn’t leave because of her. Not just her.”

“I know.” His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle against the back of my hand. “But she’s part of it. Isn’t she?”

“Lena’s always been…” I choked on a laugh, bitter and sharp. “She’s always been disappointed. Always expected me to be something I wasn’t. To be perfect. To be Sophie.”

His hand tightened around mine, a faint, reassuring pressure. “And you’re not Sophie.”

“I’m not anyone.” The words slipped out, raw and jagged. “Not here. Not in this perfect, polished pack of perfect, polished wolves. I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing.” His voice sharpened, a quiet, fierce edge threading through the calm. “Don’t you ever say that.”

I laughed again, shaking my head, staring at the blurred, shimmering lights beyond the windshield. “It’s easy for you to say. You’re the Alpha. You’re everything they want me to admire, to obey, to…”

“To fear?” His voice softened, a quiet, almost bitter amusement. “You don’t fear me, Olivia.”

“No. I don’t.” I leaned my head back against the cool leather, closing my eyes, the soft, steady warmth of his hand grounding me. “But they want me to. They want me to bow, to obey, to play my part. And I never could.”

“Good.” His thumb traced another slow, soothing circle against my skin.

I didn’t have the energy to fight him on that. Not now. Not when my chest ached, my throat burned, and my hand shook against his.

“I just… I didn’t want to come back. I didn’t want to feel this again. To be nothing. To be…”

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