Page 18 of Knot Shattered
I wiped my eyes, breathless from laughing, leaning briefly into Micha’s side for support. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“We’re yours,” Haze corrected brightly, brushing his hand through my hair like I was something precious, breakable, and somehow indestructible. “Ridiculous is just part of the package.”
Before I could retort, Micha chuckles, his voice dipping into that low, serious timbre that made my stomach flip for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“We actually came for a reason, sunshine.”
I raised an eyebrow, wiping marble dust off my hands onto my shorts. “Besides the group tackle?”
Micha’s lips twitched in amusement. “Besides that, yes.”
Salem gave me a small, quiet smile. “We wanted to invite you to lunch.”
“Lunch?” I repeated, startled by the normalcy of it.
Ravik nodded, his dark eyes softening. “Just… lunch. With us.”
“To get to know you. Properly,” Haze added, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet like an overexcited but slightly demented golden retriever.
Something in my chest gave a little, startled flutter. They didn’t want to interrogate me. They didn’t want to fix me. They just wanted me.
Dusty, messy, healing, laughing, me.
I looked between them, four hopeful faces. Each different, each shining with patience and genuine affection, and I felt the walls I’d been living behind shift, just a little.
I smiled. Small at first, but real. “Lunch sounds really nice. I just need to shower and change.” I glance down at my dirty baggy jeans and my old holy Metallica tee shirt.
Ravik
August 27th
1:48 P.M
Blueberry pancakes.
The smell slipped into my senses, and I hoped it never left. My omega was so precious. I could see the haunted look in her eyes that she tried to hide. She was so strong. I’m glad she told us there was something she was healing from. I couldn’twait to find those bastards. The things I will do to them will make Voss look sane. I forced myself to relax my jaw, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tension in my body. She turns her pretty blue eyes toward me, mid-laugh, across the table at something Salem said. I wish I were a softer man.
I focused instead on my hands, on the old scars crisscrossing my knuckles. Silent proof of what I was good for, what I’d always been good for. I wasn’t a soft man. I didn’t have Micha’s patience, or Salem’s easy calm, or Haze’s infectious light. All I knew how to do was fight. Break things. Burn bridges. Protect what mattered with blood and bone and brute force. She needed gentleness. She deserved it.
And I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could change what I was, not overnight, maybe not ever. But I could offer her something just as fierce, just as certain. I would let the others be soft with her. Let them be the steady hands she leaned into when the memories got too heavy. I would be the wall between her and anything that ever dared to touch her again.
I blinked, dragging myself out of my own head, grounding back into the present before the weight of my anger could swallow me whole.
The diner around us was simple, worn-in, and perfect for what we needed. Vinyl booths faded from too many summers of sunlight, old jukebox lights flickering in the corner, cracked black-and-white tiles underfoot. It smelled like grilled burgers, strong coffee, and fresh pie.
Odette sat across from me, tucked neatly between Micha and Haze, a faint flush still lingering high on her cheeks from laughing too hard at something dumb Haze had said. She wore a black crop top knotted casually at the side, showing a teasing sliver of sun-kissed skin above the high waist of a dark navypencil skirt. The soft material hugged her hips in a way that made it very difficult to keep my mind on the conversation. Her heels tapped lightly against the tiled floor when she laughed, the silver buckles flashing in the low diner light. She looked radiant, reckless, and fragile all at once—like a storm barely contained inside a glass bottle.
“Okay, okay, my turn!” Haze said, half-rising in his seat like an overeager kid, bouncing slightly as he slapped his palm against the table. “If you could be any animal, what would you be?”
Odette giggled into her hand, shoulders shaking with the effort to hold it in. Micha gave Haze a long-suffering look. Salem sighed, sipping his coffee like he was already regretting every choice that led him to this booth.
“I swear to God, Haze,” Salem said dryly, “if you ask me another icebreaker question, I’m transferring packs.”
Haze ignored him completely, eyes locked on Odette with shameless enthusiasm. “Well?” he prompted. “What’s your animal, my sun?”
Odette pretended to think seriously for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hmmm… probably a cat,” she said finally, grinning mischievously. “Sleep all day, knock things off shelves, demand snacks and affection on my own terms. But like a panther, so it's completely inconvenient to do any of that.”
Haze clutched his heart theatrically, slumping against Micha’s shoulder. “I knew we were soulmates.”
