Page 96 of Knot the Last Chapter

Chapter fifty-six

Lila

The fire crackles low in the hearth, painting flickering amber light across the old stone walls. I curl deeper into the couch, the blanket tucked around my legs like a nest. Tyler’s arm is draped over my shoulders, his fingers idly tracing circles against the thin cotton of my sleeve. His warmth seeps into me like sunlight after a long winter.

My feet rest across Corwyn’s lap. He’s got one hand curled gently around my ankle, his thumb brushing a lazy rhythm against the inside of my arch. Every now and then he glances down at me with a soft smile that makes my heart flutter.

Rhys sits on the rug just in front of us, between the coffee table and the fire, legs stretched out long. His back leans lightly against the couch, and I rest my hand on his shoulder. He covers it with his own, the size of his hand enveloping mine, anchoring me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

It’s so simple.

So natural.

The way we fit together. The way none of them hesitate to touch me, to fold me into their space, their warmth, their home.I feel like I’ve lived entire lifetimes starved for this kind of affection and didn't even know it.

On the screen, some overly dramatic hero delivers a one-liner as a helicopter explodes behind him.

Rhys snorts. “That’s not even how jet fuel works.”

Corwyn doesn’t look up from his drink. “Says the man who once tried to fix a broken window with duct tape and optimism.”

Tyler chuckles. “It stayed up for almost a week.”

I grin and stretch my toes a little in Corwyn’s lap. “You three are like some kind of handyman comedy troupe.”

Corwyn winks. “Handsy-men, if you like.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, laughing. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s brilliant,” he says, completely unrepentant.

Rhys cranes his neck to look up at me with that serious, grounded expression that always makes me feel seen. “We’ll trademark it.”

“And put it on aprons,” Tyler adds, his mouth close to my ear, the low rumble of his voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I’m laughing so hard I almost drop my tea, and I realize this might be the happiest I’ve been in years. Not a spike of adrenaline or lust or heat—but joy. Warmth.

Home.

I wasn’t expecting that to sneak up on me so quietly. But here it is. Sitting in a house that used to be filled with shadows and silence, surrounded by three alphas who don’t make me feel owned or small or tamed—but real.

Valued.

I glance at each of them in turn. Tyler, whose closeness feels like a hum under my skin. Corwyn, whose fingers are still moving against my ankle, soothing and maddening. Rhys, whose strength is quiet and steady and impossible not to lean into.

My chest tightens—not with anxiety this time, but with something like awe.

Could this... work?

A pack?

Mypack?

They don’t interrupt when I fall quiet. They keep chatting and teasing each other, occasionally including me with a warm glance or a soft touch, as if I belong. And I do. Somehow, impossibly, I do.

But just as I’m thinking that, a scene in the movie catches my eye.

A dusty map. A coded message. A hidden keyhole carved into an antique wall sconce.

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