Page 45 of Knot the Last Chapter

It’s subtle. Not the crashing wave I always imagined heats would be. More like a slow burn, like a match catching and smoldering, winding through my blood, stirring things that shouldn’t be stirred.

I pace the room once, twice, then collapse on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.

I remember my mother’s voice. Gentle but unwavering.

You’ll know, darling. Not just in your body. You’ll know in your bones, in your soul. The one meant for you, the one who sees all of you and chooses you—your scent will find theirs and something will settle. Like puzzle pieces snapping together.

But what if the pieces don’t snap?

What if they twist and tangle and knot up inside me until I can’t breathe?

And what if I want it?

I think about Jake. My big brother, protective to a fault. A solo alpha who’s made it his mission to advocate for omegas in a world still built to control them. He’s always warned me about packs.

They’re not designed for your safety,he’d said.They’re designed for dominance. For order. For keeping omegas in line. Even the good ones forget that sometimes. Doesn’t mean they’re bad people. But it means you have to be smarter. Stronger.

And I am. I’ve lived on my own. Worked in a competitive, cutthroat industry. Built myself up from nothing after that first rejection. I am strong.

But I feel like I’m unraveling here. And I need to go.

No more close quarters. No more charged glances and overwhelming scents and half-spoken promises. I need space. Ineed clarity. I need to remember who I am when I’m not lit up by three different alphas like a live wire.

I open the wardrobe and find a raincoat—soft, navy, oversized. Definitely Rhys’s. I shrug it on, the inside lined with something warm and dry. Misty watches me from the bed, tail twitching, eyes half-lidded like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, zipping up. “I’m just going to the boathouse. Just for a second.”

It’s still raining, but the wind has calmed. I can hear it now through the window, a steady patter instead of a roar. If I wait for the storm to kick up again, I might miss my chance.

I grab my phone, throw it in a waterproof pocket. There were boots by the kitchen door. Hopefully Rhys is no longer in there, and I can slip out.

Misty meows softly.

“I’ll be back,” I promise.

And then I’m slipping into the hall, heart pounding, hoping no one sees me before I reach the door.

I just need a cell signal. I just need to breathe.

The kitchen is empty, the fire in its hearth dying down to embers. I quickly slip on boots sitting by the door. They’re a little big, but they’ll do.

I crack open the back door and the wind slams into me like a wall.

Cold and furious, it yanks at the edges of the coat, trying to strip it from my body. Rain lashes my cheeks in hard, stinging drops, and the night smells of wet earth, pine needles, and electricity. I plant my feet, squinting into the dark, and force the door closed behind me.

The mansion looms behind me, warm and golden through the windows. Ahead, the path down to the boathouse is little more than a winding ribbon of gravel slicked with rain and shadows.

Branches thrash overhead. Water pools along the edges of the trail. The wind howls in my ears, loud enough to drown out the pounding of my heart.

I press forward.

Every step is uncertain, the mud slick beneath my boots, the rain sharp against my skin. I pull the hood tighter around my face, breathing through the panic clawing at my chest.

I think I remember the way. The boathouse isn’t far—just down the path and past the bend. But the dark makes everything unfamiliar. The storm is turning the whole island into something else. Something primal and unforgiving.

Lightning flashes behind the clouds, a silver flicker that catches on the branches and glistens off puddles. Thunder rolls low in the distance, not yet overhead but close enough to make my gut twist.

I just need to reach the edge. Just enough signal to tell my family I’m okay. To tell Jake not to worry.

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