Page 76 of Knot Your Karma
Finally, her rigid shoulders drop two inches.
“Forever’s still just words until it’s tested,” she says, but her tone has lost some of its cutting edge.
The shop bell chimes and Reed walks in carrying two large duffel bags. Adrian follows behind him with a tactical-looking backpack and that quietly controlled energy that means he’s thinking three steps ahead of everyone else.
“Perfect timing,” Destiny murmurs, watching them approach our corner booth. “I was just starting to feel comfortable, which obviously means it’s time for the real interrogation.”
Reed slides into the booth beside Destiny with his usual grace, but instead of deploying his standard charming smile, he looks directly at her with unusual seriousness. “I need you to know something—when we figured out Karma is Blake’s ex, my first instinct was to protect my pack from complicated family drama. Then I saw her organizing displays while talking to them like old friends, and I realized Blake is the complication, not her.”
“Interesting.” Destiny’s voice stays carefully neutral, but I catch the way her posture shifts—still alert, but no longer actively hostile. “What changed your mind?”
“She makes antiques come alive with stories. She handles customers with patience and expertise even when they’re demanding and rude. She runs a business she loves despite barely breaking even because she’d rather struggle doing something meaningful than succeed at something hollow.” His voice softens with genuine admiration. “Blake threw away someone extraordinary because he’s too shallow to recognize her value.”
“I bonded her,” he says simply. “Permanent mate mark.” His eyes find Destiny’s directly. “That means if something happens to her because of Sterling, it doesn’t just hurt her—it breaks something in me that can’t be fixed. I need you to understand why we’re all going.”
Destiny blinks, espresso and cinnamon spiking with surprise. “You’re scared.”
“Terrified,” Adrian confirms without hesitation. “Bonding changes everything. Her pain becomes my pain, her danger becomes my danger. But her happiness also becomes my happiness, and she’s been happy with us in ways I don’t think she’s been happy before.”
He shifts into what I recognize as his problem-solving mode, pulling out his phone to reference notes. “Hotel rooms booked—adjoining suites with separate entrances and emergency exits. Rental car has GPS tracking and emergencyroadside service. Police response times for Beacon Hill average four minutes, but Sterling’s block has private security that could complicate things.”
“Did you just casually mention researching police response times for coffee shop approval?” Reed asks, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.
“Holy shit,” Destiny breathes, staring at Adrian like he’s some kind of fascinating alien species. “You actually researched police response times for a coffee date.”
“This isn’t a coffee date,” Adrian corrects with the patience of someone explaining basic construction principles. “This is a potentially dangerous confrontation with a millionaire collector who might be involved in maritime antique trafficking. Standard threat assessment when my bonded mate’s safety is involved.”
“Is it weird that you planning my theoretical rescue makes me feel incredibly safe and slightly concerned about what you think I might get into?” Karma asks, looking between all of us with something like amazement threading through her voice.
“Both reactions are completely reasonable,” Reed assures her solemnly, then grins. “Adrian researches escape routes for grocery shopping. This is actually restraint.”
“Proper planning prevents problems,” Adrian says simply, like this explains everything.
Destiny stares at him for a long moment, then slowly shakes her head. “Holy shit. You’re actually serious about this. All of you.”
The moment she says it, something shifts in the air around our table. Not just her words, but the recognition behind them—we unconsciously form a protective triangle around Karma without a single word between us. Reed leaning forward, me automatically checking sight lines, Adrian positioning himself to block the most direct approach to our booth.
Pack coordination without conscious thought.
“What’s the actual plan for tomorrow night?” Destiny asks, and her voice has shifted from interrogation to genuine concern.
“Sterling’s expecting us at eight PM for a private viewing,” I explain. “He specifically requested Karma’s expertise, which means he’s either testing her knowledge or planning to put her in a compromised position.”
“Probably both,” Reed adds. “Sterling’s the type who likes controlling multiple variables. He’ll want to assess Karma’s expertise while evaluating whether we’re actually a pack or just three guys competing for the same omega.”
“And if he reads you as competitors instead of pack?”
“He’ll try to exploit divisions between us,” I say, feeling my jaw tighten at the thought. “Offer deals that pit us against each other, create situations where protecting Karma requires one of us to sacrifice something important.”
Karma starts straightening the salt shakers. Then the napkin holder. Then the salt shakers again, her anxiety building with each small adjustment. “What if I’m not good enough? What if my expertise isn’t sufficient to handle whatever test he’s planning? What if I embarrass you all in front of someone who probably has graduate degrees in maritime history and considers people like me beneath his notice?”
The moment her voice wavers, three things happen simultaneously: my hand moves toward her elbow, Reed leans forward with concerned focus, and Adrian’s chair scrapes closer. We don’t even look at each other because we don’t need to—this is just what we do now.
“You’re Karma Rose,” Reed says gently. “You know more about maritime antique authenticity than most people learn in lifetime careers. Sterling may have money and connections, but you have genuine passion and expertise.”
“Plus,” Adrian adds, his construction-strong hand finding hers on the table and stilling her nervous movements, “we’renot depending on your knowledge alone. Pack strength comes from combining individual capabilities.”
“What Adrian means,” I translate, watching Karma’s death grip on the salt shaker finally loosen, “is that you handle maritime expertise, Reed manages diplomatic complications, Adrian covers security and logistics, and I coordinate overall strategy. No one has to be perfect at everything.”
