Page 22 of Knot Shattered
Micha
August 27th
3:25 P.M
Odette’s phone slipped from her hand and hit the edge of the table with a sharp clatter. The sound sliced through the low murmur of diner chatter like a gunshot, sharp enough to turn heads—ours first.
All of us moved at once.
Her face had gone white—not just pale, but hollow, drained, as if all the blood had fled beneath her skin. Her eyes were wide and fixed, glassy with shock, her lips parted slightly, the shape of a breath that never quite came. Her chest rose and fell in tight, shallow bursts, panic building under her skin like a tide she couldn’t outrun. A tremor traced down her arm, barely visible, but enough.
I knew what this was. We all did.
Haze was the first to act. He slid out of the booth and into a chair in a blink. He pulled her into his lap and folded his arms around her small frame, careful but firm, bracing her against the world. His soft, steady vibration of a purr, deep in his chest. His head dipped to hers, lips brushing her hairline as he whispered something we couldn’t hear. Words meant only for her.
I reached for the phone, still glowing faintly where it had landed near her plate. The moment I turned it over, the world shifted.
Unknown: Missed your tears. Missed your screams more.
You still cry like that, pet? Don’t worry... I’ll find out soon enough.
My stomach turned to lead. The fury that followed was immediate, white-hot, and razor-sharp, but I forced it down. Now wasn’t the time.
Beside me, Ravik leaned in to read over my shoulder. The growl that broke from his chest was low, dangerous—almost feral. His hands curled slowly into fists, resting on the edge ofthe table like anchors holding him in place. His eyes darkened, his mouth pressed in a tight line that looked carved from stone. I didn’t need to look to know he was already seeing red.
Across from us, Salem never raised his voice. He didn’t panic. He reached across the table, slow and deliberate, and took Odette’s shaking hand in his. He guided it gently to his chest, pressing her palm against his heartbeat.
“Breathe with me, O,” he said, soft and low, like a whisper across still water. “In and out. Just like this. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
She was shaking too hard to respond.
Henry materialized at the edge of the booth. His presence hit like a freight train, but his movements were controlled. Quiet. Deadly calm.
I handed him the phone in silence. He took it, read the message with a stone-carved expression, and didn’t say a word for three heartbeats.
A string of curses slipped from his mouth, low and venom-laced. His tone was calm, barely above a whisper, but the violence in it was unmistakable. He didn’t care who had sent the message. He already knew what they were. And he knew exactly what he’d do to them when the time came. Under different circumstances, I might’ve admired the sheer artistry in his profanity. Now, all I could do was match the pulse of rage pounding through his bones.
“I remember, Henry.” Small. Raw. Cracked open like something delicate, finally breaking.
Henry stilled, then dropped into a crouch in front of her like someone had cut his strings. He made himself smaller, palms up, spine bent, eyes only for her. His body still thrummedwith fury, but none of it reached his face. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.
“What do you remember, baby girl?” he asked softly, his voice almost unrecognizable. Gentle. Careful.
Odette whined. The sound was muffled against Haze’s shoulder, but it cracked through the space between us anyway, sharp and aching. She curled tighter into him, and Haze’s purring deepened, his hand moving slowly up and down her back in soft, grounding strokes.
The ripple that moved through our pack was immediate and instinctive. My jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack a tooth. Salem’s hand tightened around hers, steady and unwavering. Ravik leaned in from the other side of the table, not speaking, but present, solid. His body radiated tension, his eyes never leaving her.
Odette drew a breath. It stuttered on the way in, like her lungs were fighting her, but she got it out. “I…” she whispered. “I remember... what they look like.”
Henry didn’t flinch. His expression never shifted. It was carved in love, grief, and the kind of devotion that could survive hell.
“That’s good, baby girl,” he said gently. “That’s really good. You’re so strong. You hear me? You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re not gonna carry this alone.”
And I realized something then. It wasn’t just protection Henry offered her. It wasn’t obligation or guilt or professionalism. It waslove. Fierce, father-shaped love that bent the world around it. I mean, I knew that to begin with, but seeing it is entirely different.
And we would follow his lead and not force her to speak. Not digging for the rest of the story, she wasn’t ready to give. Because our omega was strong. And when she was ready to tell us what she saw in that dark—
We would hunt them down.
