Page 49 of Knot the Last Chapter

I write back, hoping it goes through before my phone powers down.

Carver Island.

For a brief moment, the storm calms down and I hear a “ding.” My brain short-circuits. That sound—

Not from my phone.

From somewhere close.

I frown, trying to lift my head. The world spins.

And then—footsteps.

Strong, fast. I try to open my mouth to call out, but my throat’s too raw, too hoarse. My limbs too heavy.

Then I feel it. Arms. Warmth. I think I hear Misty meowing, but I’m not sure.

The scent I now know like my own heartbeat—pine sap, fresh rain, and a wild, aching longing.

“Lila,” he says, voice shaking.

And I know it’s Tyler.

Before everything fades to black, I manage one thought: Tyler is Pine.

Chapter twenty-seven

Tyler

Moments earlier

The wind screams against the kitchen windows, rattling the panes hard enough that I almost miss it—the soft scratch-scratch-scratch of claws at the door.

Misty.

She’s soaked through, her thick fur plastered to her narrow frame, but her wild green eyes are sharp and alert. She paws frantically at the kitchen door, glancing back at me, then pawing again. A meow cuts through the roar of the storm. Urgent. Demanding.

My gut clenches.

“Where is she?” I murmur, already grabbing my jacket.

Rhys and Corwyn had split off in the opposite direction. We were going to comb the woods behind the east trail, but I know now—Misty knows something. She's leading me.

I throw open the door, and wind slams into me like a freight train. I nearly stumble, then right myself, teeth grit against the rain lashing across my face. It cuts like tiny needles, soaking through the fabric of my coat within seconds.

Misty darts forward, skimming low to the ground, her tail flat. I follow without hesitation, boots sinking deep into muddy earth with every step.

The scent hits me.

Lila.

Even through the storm, through the bitter cold and soaked terrain, her scent burns through me like lightning. That unmistakable omega scent that haunts me, teases me, calls to the most primal part of me.

She’s out here. She’s hurt.

“LILA!” I bellow, voice ripped away by the storm. The wind tears it from my throat, scattering it like leaves. But I keep calling, straining against the gale.

Behind me, I think I hear Rhys shouting my name, maybe Corwyn too. But it’s all drowned out by the roaring in my ears and the pounding of my heart.

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