Page 72 of Knot Your Karma
“Meaning?” Reed moves to steady my elbow with the efficiency of someone who’s appointed himself omega stability coordinator.
“Meaning Sterling Ashworth currently has the compass, thinks he owns it legitimately, and has zero reason to sell it for anything less than a fortune we don’t have.” I lean into Reed’s support despite my pride. “My current net worth hovers somewhere betweenconcerningandplease don’t decline my grocery card,so this feels like bringing a pricing gun to a yacht fight.”
“Assess the threat, identify leverage points, turn the situation to our advantage,” Declan says. “Standard approach.”
“Plus you’re not just any omega trying to negotiate with Sterling.” Adrian looks up from his organizational charts. “You’re Karma Rose, maritime expert who knows more about provenance and authenticity than half the dealers on the East Coast. Strong foundation.”
“You’re right. I do know this world. How these collectors think, what motivates them, what makes them nervous enough to make mistakes.” My hand drifts to my neck where Adrian’s claiming bite throbs pleasantly under my sweater collar. “Though I should probably work on my confidence before accidentally challenging a millionaire to maritime trivia and losing my shop as collateral.”
“Exactly.” Reed moves toward the front door. “Sterling thinks he’s dealing with desperate family members who’ll pay anything to recover their heirloom. He doesn’t know he’s actually dealing with an expert who can expose questionable provenance if things get uncomfortable. Also, he definitely doesn’t know about your secret weapon.”
“What secret weapon?”
“You talk to compass collections like they’re people. That’s either the most endearing thing in the world or a sign you’re completely unhinged, and honestly? Either way, it’s going to throw him off his game.”
“I should check on the shop.” October afternoon air tastes like salt and possibility and the first hint of coming winter. “Make sure whoever’s been watching it hasn’t accidentally sold my most valuable pieces to tourists for twenty dollars and good Yelp reviews.”
“About that.” Something in Reed’s voice suggests either excellent news or interesting complications. “Funny how family details get buried under life-changing omega claiming and criminal compass conspiracies. I called my sister Fate tocover for you. She’s been running things since your heat started.”
I stop walking so abruptly Declan bumps into my back, his hands finding my waist to steady me. “Your sister? Reed, you never mentioned having a sister, which seems like the kind of family detail that might have come up during previous conversations about, oh, everything.”
“Between the compass drama and pack bonding and generally falling for an omega who steals family heirlooms, somehow I forgot to mention that my little sister has mystical intuition and runs a crystal shop when she’s not providing cosmic commentary on people’s love lives.”
“Mystical how?”
“She reads tarot cards and believes in universal signs. Also really good at knowing exactly what people are looking for before they know it themselves.” Reed gives me a look. One I’m starting to learn is all mischief and trouble, and I won’t admit that it gives me butterflies in my stomach. “Which makes her perfect for antique shop management and possibly cosmic intervention in compass-related drama.”
As we approach What Goes Around, I can see through the front windows that the shop is definitely standing and operating normally. But something feels different—warmer, more welcoming, like someone who understands the spiritual significance of old objects has been arranging things with intention.
The bell chimes when we push through the door, and subtle changes greet me. Lighting feels warmer, creating soft pools that highlight key pieces without harsh shadows. Someone has arranged crystals among the maritime displays—not randomly, but with deliberate purpose, as if they’re meant to enhance the energy rather than just looking pretty.
“Good afternoon.” A melodic voice calls from the back. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Fate emerges from behind the maritime section, and okay,she’s definitely Reed’s sister—same warm brown eyes, same way of moving like she’s never bumped into furniture in her life. But where Reed gives off that smooth diplomatic vibe, she’s got this ethereal thing happening that makes me think she probably knows what phase the moon is in without checking an app. Her dark hair has these little braids woven through it, and she’s wearing flowing fabrics that somehow look both practical and like she might start reading my aura, which would be mortifying because I’m pretty sure my aura is just anxiety and coffee fumes right now.
“Karma.” She moves toward us with a sunrise smile. “I’m Fate. You look radiant for someone who just weathered her first heat with a new pack.”
Heat floods my cheeks so fast I probably resemble a tomato. “Is it that obvious? Because I was hoping forslightly tired but professionally competentrather thanomega who clearly spent forty-eight hours being thoroughly claimed in ways that probably violated noise ordinances.”
“Honey, you’re glowing with satisfied omega energy.” She breathes deeply, eyes closing with obvious pleasure and relief. “Your scent tells the whole beautiful story.”
Fate’s gaze finds my sweater collar where Adrian’s claiming bite hides. “And that alpha mark is broadcasting ‘permanently claimed’ loud enough to reach the harbor. Exactly as it should be.”
I press my hand to my neck automatically, and Fate’s smile widens with genuine delight.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Claiming bites are meant to announce pack bonds and omega protection. Adrian chose his placement perfectly.” Her mystical intuition picks up on something deeper. “The universe has been aligning things for this moment for months.”
Fate says this with the kind of cosmic certainty that would sound ridiculous from anyone else, but somehow when she says it, I almost believe the universe actually has beenplotting to get me properly claimed by three alphas and steal Blake’s compass for poetic justice.
“How do you know it was Adrian?”
“Because he’s been radiatingI marked my omega and now I need to make everything perfect for herenergy since you walked in.” Fate glances at Adrian with obvious fondness and knowing amusement. “Alpha nesting behavior is absolutely adorable.”
Adrian’s cheeks actually flush, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, those storm-gray eyes find mine with a look that makes my heart do something stupid and probably medically concerning.
“So,” I say, desperate to change the subject before we delve deeper into claiming bite mysticism, “how has the shop been? Any disasters? Maritime emergencies requiring expert intervention or divine guidance?”
“Actually, wonderful.” Fate moves toward the front counter, gesturing at a ledger that looks significantly more organized than I left it. “Your customers are lovely—so many interesting stories about family pieces and inherited treasures. Mrs. Patterson brought in a ship’s chronometer that belonged to her great-grandfather, and I helped her understand its significance.”
