Page 15 of Knot Going Down
Jose exhales sharply, looking away. “It’s not personal, Lucas.”
That actually makes me laugh. A real one this time. “Caralho.” Fuck.“You’re my pack. And now we are what? Just done?”
No one answers.
The weight of their silence presses in on me, but I keep my easy smirk in place, refusing to let them see even a hint of what’s really unraveling inside. I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling like this is just another conversation. Just another minor inconvenience.
“Alright,” I say, voice light, almost accomplishing amused, even as my heart aches in my chest. “Message received.”
9
EMILY
Ava should be here. She’s already missed most of the closing ceremony, which is weird because she normally lives for this kind of thing. I thought she’d at least be here for the concert. She loves to dance, and she’s been so excited to see Backyard Hearts perform live. I know she was upset about not medaling, but I didn’t think she was upset enough to miss this.
I hang back on the outskirts of the crowd, trying to take slow breaths. I’d rather be anywhere but here right now. I only came because I thought Ava would be with me. Oddly enough, she’s somehow become my comfort person.
I’m incredibly happy Meggie is now officially with my brother and the rest of Pack Hart, but we both know her being in a pack will alter our friendship at least a little. It already has.
I don’t want to be alone, and Ava’s been, well, she’s been nice, and she’s been with me through everything these past two weeks.
The music hits like a wave—loud, all-consuming, vibrating through my ribs and straight into my throat. Lights flare across the Paris night, sharp and dazzling, painting the crowd in electric blues and burning gold in the open-air stadium. I canbarely hear my own thoughts over the roar of thousands of voices singing in fractured harmony. The fireworks sparkle in the distance, too perfect, too surreal, like something out of a dream I haven’t fully caught up to. A dream closing. This chapter of my life is done. A silver medal in my suitcase, and a full camera roll on my phone.
The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and the warm haze of summer, each breath tasting like someone else’s heartbeat. I’m pressed in on all sides—strangers bumping shoulders, laughing, shouting, crying—and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m floating or falling. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. And I can’t look away. This is the experience of a lifetime, and I don’t want to miss out, but everything is so loud. And there are so many people everywhere.
I take a steading breath and plant my feet. This—the Paris Olympics of 2024—is a once in a lifetime experience, and I don’t want to miss any of it. Who knows if I’ll make the cut for the next Olympics. I hope I will, but that’s four years from now, and a lot can happen in four years.
Someone bumps my shoulder. “Sorry,” I squeak, recoiling on myself, unsure if they even heard me.
I wish Meggie was here. She and her men moved up their flight and left early after Dante hurt his shoulder in their final water polo match. They wanted to get back to the States as soon as possible for his surgery. I think Meggie was also tired of pretending not to be an omega and just wanted to get away from the crowds. I don’t blame her. But I really wish I wasn’t alone right now.
Declan was supposed to be here to help work security, but after Knox tried to escape, Declan didn’t want to leave him. And keeping track of him in a crowd like this would have been a big headache. So the two of them are back at the hotel. Which is probably where I should be, too.
Declan and Knox being near each other is messing with my head a little. It’s weird having worlds collide like that. Maybe I should leave and go see them. Or go find Ava and make sure she’s okay.
The band starts up, and the crowd surges forward on all sides of me. People scream and sing along. I’m pulled by the press of bodies. Each touch makes me want to curl in on myself. I clutch my hands together over my stomach. Deep breaths. This is fine. It’s an experience I need to have. People will ask me what I thought of the closing ceremonies. I can’t tell them I didn’t go. I’m supposed to be here.
“Emily! Emily,docinho.”
Lucas fights his way over to me, eager and sweaty, dancing to the beat of the music. He looks stunning and happy. His long hair is in a messy knot on his head, his muscled arms on display in a tank top, athletic shorts showing off his thick thighs. He grabs my hand and drags me forward until we’re right in front of the stage.
Bass rattles in my chest, each beat sharp and endless, layered with screaming synths and wild electric guitar. The lights strobe in dizzying patterns, painting everything in flashes of gold and ultraviolet. Athletes leap onto the stage, dancing with reckless energy, their movements exaggerated by the frenzy around them. The crowd surges with them, a tidal wave of bodies jumping and shouting and singing in too many languages at once.
Lucas is grinning, soaked in sweat and joy, his eyes shining like he belongs to this moment in a way I never will. He grabs my hand, pulling me closer to the chaos.
“Come on!” he yells, trying to get me to dance, to laugh with him, to let go.
But I can’t.
Everything is too much. The floor shifts under my feet. My breath catches in my throat, tight and shallow, like I can’t quite pull in enough air. My hands are shaking. I try to move, to say something, but the words dissolve before they reach my mouth.
Lucas turns back, still smiling. Until he actually sees me.
His smile drops. “Emily?” he says, softer, closer. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
I can’t. I don’t want to fall apart here, not like this. But the panic’s already in my blood.
Then his arms are around me.
