Page 43 of Knot the Last Chapter

Lila.

That quiet moment earlier when she looked at Rhys and Corwyn with warmth—and then at me with a wall of cool detachment. The flicker of recognition. The way her posture stiffened. She smiled, sure, but it was the kind of smile you offer a stranger you don't trust, not someone you’ve been texting deep confessions of the soul, not to mention sexting.

It gutted me.

I keep reliving that unbearable moment when her eyes found mine and froze. She knew. Not from my voice or my scent. No, this was older, deeper. Recognition from another life, back whenshe was the quiet omega girl trailing after her brother, scribbling in a notebook on the porch.

And me?

I’d been a dumb alpha with too much bravado and not enough sense.

The mansion is quiet, candlelight and firelight casting long, golden shadows on the walls. I pass by the kitchen without registering the scent of coffee or wood smoke. I hear Rhys somewhere on the far side of the house, hammering boards into place over a window just in case the wind kicks up again. Corwyn’s likely in the library. Maybe I’ll go see what he’s up to.

And then it hits me.

Her scent.

Bright and impossible to ignore, warm and a little wild. Not yet turned toward heat, but edging close enough that my instincts react instantly. She smells like sunlight warming old paper, the edge of a summer storm, and something uniquely, devastatingly her.

I turn the corner—and she crashes into me.

It’s not graceful. Her head is turned slightly back toward Misty, who trails her like a shadow. She walks straight into my chest with enough force to make both of us stumble.

My arms wrap around her before I can think.

She grabs my biceps, steadying herself. I feel her hands through the thin cotton of my shirt like a brand. Her body presses lightly into mine. Her breath catches.

And then we’re just… frozen. There, in the quiet hush of the hall, between the storm outside and the deeper one building inside me.

She smells like memories I can’t hold on to and wants I can’t escape.

I don’t breathe. Because if I do, I’ll lean in. I’ll say too much.

She starts to step back, but I catch her wrist—not hard, not possessive, just a plea.

“Wait,” I say, voice low and rough. “Why are you mad at me?”

She exhales through her nose. Her body stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You really don’t remember?”

I blink. “I… I remember you’re Jake’s sister. You came out to the island a few summers. Always had that notebook. Always writing.”

“Exactly.”

Her voice is flat. Measured. But I can see the way her throat moves when she swallows. The way her hands tremble at her sides.

“I looked up to you,” she says softly. “You were older. Confident. The cool older boy who seemed like he had it all figured out. One summer, I showed you something I’d written—a mystery I’d been working on for weeks. I was so proud of it. You laughed. Said it was cute. Said it read like a Scooby Doo rerun.”

Her voice doesn’t rise, but it lands, right in the center of my chest.

“I was fourteen,” she says, lowering her voice further. “An omega already trying to fight the world’s expectations. I wanted to believe I had a voice. That someone like you might see it. Believe in it. Instead, I stopped writing. I pushed it all down. I went to the city, got the job, did the safe thing. Because somewhere inside me, I thought, 'He’s right. I’m not good enough.'“

I stagger back half a step, like her words hit me physically.

“Lila… I didn’t know. I didn’t mean—”

She folds her arms, hugging herself. Her voice shakes now. “I know. And I shouldn’t have let one boy’s opinion change everything. But it did. And it sucked.”

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