Page 79 of Knot Your Karma
The simple statement makes my chest tight with emotion I can’t name. They’d give up the compass—the symbol of their pack future, the beautiful justice of taking Blake’s loss and transforming it into their blessing—to keep me safe.
“You can’t mean that.”
“We absolutely mean that,” Declan says, pulling into the Dunkin’ parking lot with controlled movements that speak to barely leashed protective instincts. “Sterling can play whatever games he wants, but he doesn’t get to endanger you for maritime antique entertainment.”
Their commitment hits me like a physical weight, which sounds dramatic but apparently having three people choose you over a priceless family heirloom does things to your emotional stability that probably require professional terminology.
For months, I bought into Blake’s whole assessment that I was too much work, too needy, too high-maintenance foranyone to choose me over convenience, which in hindsight seems like exactly the kind of thing a guy with performance spreadsheets would say.
But here are three men who’d choose me over a priceless family heirloom without hesitation.
My phone buzzes in my lap, interrupting the emotional moment. Unknown number, Boston area code.
My blood goes cold.
“Don’t answer it,” Reed says immediately, diplomatic instincts reading my tension through pack bonds and body language.
Too late. My thumb hits answer before my brain can stop it.
“Hello?”
“Karma.” Blake’s voice fills the car through the speakers, familiar and condescending and carrying that particular tone that means he wants something and expects me to provide it without question. “We need to talk.”
All three of them go completely still, which is somehow more terrifying than if they’d started yelling.
“Hang up,” Declan snarls. “Right fucking now.”
Reed lunges forward between the seats. “Don’t let him?—”
“We need to talk,” Blake continues, and Adrian’s whole body goes predator-still.
“No,” Adrian says, voice deadly quiet. “We don’t.”
But my thumb is already moving toward the speaker button, and my pack goes collectively tense, ready to intervene the second Blake crosses a line.
“Blake.” My voice comes out steadier than expected despite my heart hammering against my ribs. “How did you get this number?”
“Declan’s been asking around the family about the compass, which naturally came to my attention. Then I see social media posts from that quaint little coffee shop near your... establishment. Something about ‘cosmic justice’ androad trips. Rather juvenile, but not difficult to piece together.” His voice carries that smugness that means he thinks he’s being clever. “This is a fascinating development.”
Declan’s hands grip the steering wheel like he’s strangling it. Reed’s breathing becomes sharp and controlled. Adrian calculates the distance to Blake through the phone with the focus of someone planning structural demolition.
“I don’t know what you think is happening?—”
“I think you’ve manipulated my brother into helping you profit from stolen property,” Blake interrupts. “Classic omega victim behavior—find strong alphas and convince them you need rescuing.”
“That’s enough,” Declan cuts in, voice carrying command authority that makes the car windows vibrate. “You don’t get to?—”
“Blake,” Reed interrupts with diplomatic steel that could cut glass, “you lost the right to have opinions about Karma’s life when you made spreadsheets rating her performance.”
Adrian says nothing, but his scent goes so dark with controlled violence that I taste copper on my tongue.
I hold up my hand—my choice, my fight. “Let me handle this.”
“But I know what you really are, Karma,” Blake continues with that familiar condescending tone that used to make me apologize for existing. “You’re the same needy, clingy omega who couldn’t handle a mature relationship.”
The old me would have crumbled. The old me would have stammered apologies and tried to prove I wasn’t those things.
But the old me didn’t have my guys.
