Page 89 of Knot Gonna Lie
“Forever, then.” Her smile shone brighter than the sterile lights. “Because I’m never letting any of you go.”
Seth chuckled quietly. “Breakfast soon. We should get dressed before Luca tears the ship apart looking for us.”
But Elara’s hand twined with mine again, unwilling to let go. “Together.”
I squeezed her fingers, marveling at the impossible truth of her claim, the mark pulsing with her heartbeat.
Forever wouldn’t be long enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ELARA
The training deck stretched before us, utilitarian gray broken only by equipment racks and the circle of clan members already warming up. Stella moved through combat forms with lethal grace, each strike cutting air with practiced precision. Her auburn hair caught the overhead lights as she pivoted, transforming from security guard to warrior in the space between heartbeats.
“About time.” She straightened, wiping sweat from her brow. “Thought I’d have to drag you from that nest myself.”
Heat crept up my neck. The morning’s intimacy still clung to me—Seth’s careful hands checking my palm, Jaxom steadying me as I dressed, Luca making breakfast for the clan. He wasn’t as skilled in the kitchen as the others, but the effort mattered. The way my pack cared for me made me feel as treasured as I hoped I made them feel.
Domesticity that felt foreign, yet achingly right. The memory of their bruises beneath my fingers, the way they’d submitted to my inspection—it all lingered like phantom touch.
“She needed rest.” Luca’s hand pressed against my back, warmth bleeding through my training clothes. The simple athletic wear felt strange after days in his shirts and borrowed luxury. “Yesterday was—”
“The restaurant fight proved she needs this.” Stella’s eyes hardened, soldier overtaking friend. “Station omegas learn submission. Renegade omegas learn survival. Which do you want to be?”
The question hit deeper than she knew. The blood and terror of my last night on the station still lived under my skin—Owen’s gamma hand reaching, my grip tightening on my broken crystal weapon, the savage satisfaction of striking back, of defending myself.
But beneath that triumph lived terror. Without my pack’s intervention, without their strength...
“I want to protect myself.” My voice stayed steady, even as my chest tightened. “And them.”
Something in Stella’s expression shifted—approval with an edge of respect. “Good. Then we start with basics. Your body’s your first weapon, your instincts your best guide. Everything else is refinement.”
The clan closed around us, their presence heavy but steady. Tobias leaned against the wall, deceptively casual, eyes sharp. Maia adjusted sleek bands on her wrists—gravity dampeners repurposed from her engineering kit. Sylas stretched slow and deliberate, scars writing history across his arms.
Even Xavier stood at the edge, detached but present. Our conversation from the night before hovered between us—his admission that my scent meant nothing to him, not repulsive but incompatible. The understanding we’d reached an agreement. He’d do his duty if needed, nothing more. The boundaries gave us both peace.
“First rule,” Stella said, beckoning me forward. “Omegas have advantages alphas ignore. Lower center of gravity. Flexibility. Size that makes you harder to pin. Use them.”
I stepped into the circle, hyperaware of my pack’s attention. Seth stood near a med kit he’d set up despite protests, gray-blue eyes shadowed with worry. Jaxom flexed his bitten hand unconsciously, the mark still fresh enough to ache. Luca radiated alpha pressure, his instinct to shield me barely contained.
“Tobias.” Stella’s command cut sharp. “You’re up.”
“Seriously?” His grimace betrayed his reluctance. “I’m not fighting—”
“You’re teaching.” Stella’s tone brooked no argument. “Slow demonstration. Show her how alphas typically attack, let her feel the patterns.”
He pushed off the wall, each step exaggerated with obvious reluctance, telegraphed. When he reached for my arm, the movement came so slow I could track every muscle’s engagement. His grip stayed gentle, careful, but even that careful touch sent my instincts screaming.
Not pack. Not mine.
“See how he grabs?” Stella circled us, sharp-eyed. “Control first—arms, shoulders, always. Your advantage? You’re smaller, faster. Don’t let them get that grip.”
Tobias dropped my arm like it burned, retreating with visible relief. The space he gave me felt respectful, not dismissive.
“Again. Dodge this time.”
His reach came slow. I twisted away, Stella’s words guiding me. Instinct and flexibility worked together, movement flowing more natural than I expected.
