Page 71 of Knot Your Karma
This morning I woke up as a thoroughly claimed omega still processing pack meanings. Now they are discussing forever, ceremonies, taking Blake’s discard and transforming it into the foundation of something beautiful.
“I can’t—” Voice cracks completely. Stop, breathe, try again. “You want forever? With me?”
“Easy there, gorgeous.” Reed’s voice shakes slightly despite steady words. “We’re discussing pack bonding with someone brilliant and passionate and brave enough to fight for what matters. Someone who sees value in things others discard. Someone who brings maritime artifacts alive with stories and talks to compass collections like they’re people, which is honestly my favorite thing about you.”
“Someone who stole a family heirloom from spite?—”
“Someone who fought back when someone tried to destroy her.” Adrian’s voice carries quiet steel that spikes sandalwood protective and sharp. “Someone who refused victim status. Someone who took control of her story and built something better from the pieces.”
“Adrian builds everything to last.” Declan’s eyes find the covered bite mark with reverence and possession. “When he commits to foundation—building or bond—it’s permanent. No shortcuts, no temporary fixes.”
I look around the table at three men who have somehow become everything I didn’t know I was searching for, theircombined scents creating harmony that smells like home and safety and possibility I never dared to imagine.
“You really want this? All of it? Pack bonding and ceremony and dealing with my trust issues and how I reorganize spice racks when anxious and probably say inappropriate things to maritime artifacts when I think no one is listening?”
“Especially the compass conversations.” Reed’s says with genuine affection. “Definitely my favorite. Though I’m curious about your filing system for particularly chatty sextants.”
“We want all of it.” Adrian’s hand engulfs mine. “Every neurotic organizational habit, every passionate expertise ramble, every way you make the world more interesting just by existing. Solid foundation.”
“We want you.” Declan’s voice carries absolute certainty that settles in my bones like truth. “Everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you’re becoming. Pack bond, bonding ceremony, forever—if that’s what you want too.”
Tears come freely now—happy and overwhelmed and grateful beyond words. I press my free hand to my mouth, but the sob escapes anyway—relief and joy and disbelief wrapped in sound that makes all three lean closer with protective concern.
“I want it.” Voice breaks with the magnitude of admission. “Want all of it. Want forever with you, want the compass to mean something beautiful instead of broken, want to build something that actually lasts instead of hoping things don’t fall apart.”
“Then that’s what we build.” Declan reaches across to wipe tears with gentle thumbs. “Something that lasts.”
“But first,” Reed stands to refill my coffee, “we need to figure out how to make it happen without anyone ending up in jail. Or having to explain to my mãe why her son’s callingfrom federal prison.”
“Blake’s ceremony is three months out.” Adrian taps his timeline chart. “Fixed deadline. Work backwards from there.”
“For what?”
“Getting the compass back.” Something shifts in Declan’s voice. “And making sure Blake understands some things matter more than his convenience.”
“This could get complicated.” Someone needs to acknowledge the reality of challenging Sterling Ashworth and his network. “Potentially very legally complicated, requiring excellent lawyers and possibly fake passports.”
“Everything worth doing is complicated.” Adrian echoes earlier words. “Question is whether we face it together.”
“Together.” I look at each in turn.
“Pack handles pack business.” Reed raises his coffee mug in mock toast, sunlight catching rising steam.
“To pack business.” I lift my own mug with barely shaking hands. “And making Blake’s biggest mistake into our greatest blessing.”
“To true north.” Declan’s voice roughens with emotion. “And finding our way home.”
When our mugs touch, the soft clink sounds like the most important ceremony I have ever attended. Coffee sloshes slightly, and Reed laughs—warm and genuine and full of possibility.
We drink to that—to pack and possibility and beautiful justice of stolen compasses becoming symbols of everything good instead of everything broken.
And that feels like the most perfect kind of magic.
Karma
The warm glowof pack and possibility lasts exactly until I stand from the breakfast table and discover that a three-alpha claiming leaves you with the structural integrity of overcooked pasta.
“Okay, so that was beautiful and life-changing and I’m absolutely on board with the wholesteal Blake’s compass for our own bonding ceremonyplan.” I grip the table edge as my legs remember they’re supposed to support weight instead of feeling like jelly. “But now I have a very practical question about how we actually make that happen without ending up in federal prison or worse.”
