Page 102 of Knot Your Karma
The two words land like a gavel ending a trial. Sage flinches as if physically struck, then leaves without another word, the shop bell chiming her departure with cheerful indifference to the drama it’s just witnessed.
The silence that follows feels loaded with aftermath. The afternoon light seems brighter somehow, dust motes dancing peacefully again while the antique clocks resume their comfortable rhythm, as if the shop itself is exhaling relief. Fate stares at the door as if she’s expecting Sage to reappear.
“Well,” Sterling says finally, adjusting his cufflinks one more time. “That was enlightening.”
“Sterling, I—” I start, but he holds up a hand.
“Karma, my dear, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to explain. Nothing to justify.” His smile is warm and paternal, transforming his entire demeanor from arctic authority to genuine care. “What you have is a job offer from someone who values your expertise, your integrity, and your character. What you also have, apparently, is at least one person who fundamentally misunderstood the situation.”
“But she was right about the compass?—”
“She was right about the facts. She was completely wrong about the implications.” Sterling moves closer, his presence reassuring rather than intimidating, expensive cologne mixing with the shop’s familiar scents. “My dear, I told you when I made the offer—I know everything. I ran a comprehensive background check. I know about Blake, about the theft, about your reasons. I also know about your character, your expertise, and your worth.”
“You knew?” My voice comes out small, vanilla finally beginning to settle back toward its normal sweetness.
“I knew. I hired you anyway. I hired you because of who you are, not despite your past mistakes.” Sterling glances toward Declan, whose protective tension remains palpable. “And it appears I’m not the only one who sees your value.”
Declan moves closer, his large hand finding my shoulder with gentle pressure that settles my scattered nerves. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” I lean into his touch without thinking. “I just... I can’t believe she actually tried to blackmail me in front of you. What was her endgame there? Did she think you’d be impressed by her entrepreneurial spirit?”
“I can,” Sterling says drily, straightening his expensive coat. “Unfortunately, the antique trade attracts its share of opportunists. People who mistake others’ integrity for weakness, who think ethical behavior can be exploited rather than respected.”
“What happens now?” Fate asks quietly, finally setting down the ship’s clock. “I mean, legally speaking? Should we call someone?”
“Nothing,” Sterling says firmly. “Ms. Morrison made some vague threats but nothing actionable. And more importantly, she’s just learned that pursuing this particular vendetta would be professional suicide.” His smile has sharp edges that speak to decades of navigating high-stakes negotiations. “Word travels quickly in the maritime antique community. By tomorrow, everyone who matters will know that she attempted to extort my head assessor. Her reputation won’t recover.”
“That seems harsh,” I say, though I’m not sure I mean it.
“That’s appropriate,” Sterling corrects, adjusting his glasses. “People like Ms. Morrison rely on others being too polite, too scared, or too isolated to fight back. Today she learned that some people have backup.”
“Pack,” Declan says quietly, his hand still steady on my shoulder. “You have pack now.”
The simple truth of that statement hits harder than Sage’s threats. Six months ago, I would have faced this alone, probably would have paid whatever she demanded just to make the problem go away. Today, I had Sterling’s professional protection and Declan’s alpha backup without even asking for it.
“Thank you,” I say to both of them. Gratitude explodes in my chest, too big for words. “For standing up for me. For not letting her get away with it.”
“Thank you,” Sterling replies, “for being worth standing up for.”
The shop bell chimes again, and this time it’s Reed and Adrian walking in with coffee cups and concerned expressions. They take one look at the residual tension in the room and immediately go alert—Reed enters first, ocean spray immediately sharpening as he scans the room, Adrian close behind with sandalwood going protective, both automatically flanking the exits.
“Okay, so clearly something happened,” Reed says, immediately scanning the room as if he’s assessing a diplomatic crisis, coffee cup forgotten in his hand. “Scale of one to international incident?”
“Define international incident,” I say with a shaky laugh, leaning deeper into Declan’s steadying presence. “Sage Morrison just tried to blackmail me in front of Sterling and got thoroughly destroyed for her trouble.”
“Blackmail?” Adrian’s sandalwood goes sharp with protective concern, his entire frame shifting into alert readiness. “What did she want?”
“Money. Credit. Access to Sterling’s network.” I lean into Declan’s solid presence. “Basically, she wanted to be paid for her discretion about the compass situation.”
“Bold strategy,” Reed says, setting his coffee on thecounter and automatically positioning himself where he can see both entrances. “Terrible execution, but bold.”
“Bold of her to assume discretion was for sale,” Adrian observes, moving with deliberate quiet to complete our protective circle.
“Bold of her to assume I was still vulnerable,” I correct. “Six months ago, she would have been right. Today, she learned that threatening someone with pack and professional backing is a losing strategy.”
“Well,” Reed says with satisfaction, “I’m sure she won’t make that mistake again.”
“I’m sure she won’t get the opportunity,” Sterling adds. “Word spreads quickly in our community. By next week, everyone who matters will know exactly what kind of person she is.”
