Page 31 of Ruin Me Knot
He freezes when he sees her huddled on the floor against the second couch, taking in her rigid frame before looking to me for explanation.
"Leah is awake, brother." I make my voice as easy as I can manage. "There’s soup in the pot on the stove, Gabe. Mind making up a bowl for our girl?"
He gets my unspoken message, flicking a look at her before turning away. Instead of bombarding her with questions, he runs a smooth commentary. "Of course. I picked up real bakery rye while I was out. This place near the corner throws flour on the loaves right when they come out. Smells like home in there."
He retreats to the kitchen and returns with a generous bowl of beef and vegetable stew. It’s hearty, exactly what she needs.
I nod to the coffee table. "Set it there so she can reach it easily."
Gabriel places the bowl down and backs away. "Ronan, you want some too?"
Ronan nods. "Of course. Can’t beat Jax’s soup."
Gabe walks back into the kitchen where he clunks around dishing up more bowls. Ronan probably isn’t hungry, but we’ll all eat if she does.
Leah doesn’t move. She stares at the steam, unblinking, as if soup might be a trick. Her hand curls over her stomach, jaw working, hunger warring with suspicion. I bite back the urge to urge or coax. There’s nothing I can do but give her space and hope she finds enough trust to reach for it.
Gabriel brings in more bowls, his movements measured and easy. He slides them onto the table one by one, sets down the bread, thick-cut and glossy with melted butter. Salt and herbs wind through the room. It smells damn good.
Ronan gives Gabriel a grateful clap on the shoulder before reaching for his bowl and spoon. We all know the trick, act like it’s just a meal, nothing more, don’t hover or push, don’t let the desperation show on your face even if all you want is to see her eat something, anything.
Leah’s gaze flicks between the bowls and our faces. I can imagine what’s clawing through her head. Old tricks, drugged meals, consequences for every mouthful. She stays locked against the couch, a storm in her eyes, not reaching for anything.
I cross my legs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I set my bowl in my lap and pick up my spoon. The soup is hot, salty, thick with tender vegetables and chunks of beef. I blow on the edge, then take a bite and let out a low hum.
Gabriel shoots me a crooked grin, shoving a wedge of bread into his own bowl, then pops a bit in his mouth before glancing at Leah. "Yeah, this’ll warm all of us from the inside out," he says, his tone casual and light.
Ronan takes a slow spoonful, glancing at Leah as if he’s just checking the curtains for a draft. We all dig in, pretending this is a normal night and the air isn’t strung so tight you could pluck a note from it.
Chapter Fourteen
Leah
The food smells like heaven and torment. My stomach pinches so tight it’s nauseating. I can’t remember the last time I ate. The guards at the facility gave me scraps, just enough to keep me alive. My belly aches so sharply I wrap my arms around it, as if holding myself could make the pain go away.
Their spoons clink on their bowls as they eat. It smells delicious. The warm, earthy aroma of beef and bread wraps through the air and makes my mouth water. They trade comments. Soft, meaningless things about crumbs and kitchen supplies, about how this bread really is as good as Gabriel bragged.It’s familiar. A wrenching comfort. I used to have these kinds of meals with my parents where we’d talk and laugh like the world couldn’t hurt us.
But there’s no way to forget who I’m with now. Not when every line of Ronan’s jaw, every ripple in Jax’s arms speaks how easy it is for them to put me in my place. The sensible thing would be to tear my eyes off them and pretend they don’t exist.
But my body doesn’t care about sensible. My skin buzzes, nerves humming from the inside out, sliding deep down into bone. It scares me, how much my Omega craves their scents, their voices, their presence. Something inside me pounds, hungry and urgent, and I’m terrified of it. I trust nothing about this part of me. Every time it rises, I want to bury it with the rest of my bad memories.
But Gods, I want to eat. I want to reach across the table, grab that hot bread, and gulp down the soup until my stomach expands so much it hurts. I grip my own wrist to keep my hand still.
They’re all on the floor with me. Ronan leans back against the opposite couch, broad hand loose around his bowl. Gabriel chews his bread with a little smile, as if nothing on earth could catch him off-guard. Jax sits cross-legged, massive and calm, his eyes never fully off me. They’re terrifying, beautiful in a ruthless way. It’s a problem, because there’s a part of me that wants to crawl closer.
But I can’t forget. My heat is making everything crackle with want and I can do nothing about. I clench my thighs tight, glance down, check for any ache, any wrongness in my body. I don’t hurt down there. I’m not used or stretched or raw. They used their fingers. Their talented mouths and tongues but no one penetrated me with their cock. They helped me, cared for me, dressed me in this robe instead of the towel.
They kept their promise.
They didn’t lie to me and take what they could when I lost my mind to the heat and that’s…confusing. They could have. I would have welcomed their cocks.
I should still be out of my mind because of my heat. At the facility I would wake up in a pool of sweat and slick, wrung out and nauseous, not remembering how or who threw me back into my cell.
I don’t remember anything once a heat hits. Why am I now awake, aware, and present? The haze simmers in the background though, and a weird chemical taint burns off my skin. That hasn’t been there before, but Hardwick did inject me with one last huge dose of chemicals she clearly expected me to die from.
Then again, I’ve never had a heat with my scent-matched Alphas, so who knows if how I’m reacting is normal or not. This is unchartered territory.
I’m so tired, everything in me drooping, eyelids weighted, head heavy and floating. The exhaustion isn’t just in my bones. It’s sunk into the lining of every thought, making it impossible to move off the floor. Hunger is still a sharp ache, but even that’s dulled by fatigue bearing down on me.
