Page 71 of Hard Knot

The door shuts softly behind him, leaving just me and Felix in the room.

“So,” Felix says, his tone deceptively casual. “What’s your verdict?”

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking under the weight of my thoughts.

“I absolutely despise her,” I conclude, the words coming out harsher than I intended. “I don’t want her as an Omega.”

The room falls silent, and I can feel Felix’s stare, heavy and knowing.

When he doesn’t respond, I furrow my brow.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Duplicating the footage,” he says lightly like it’s no big deal.

I know it’s a big fucking deal.

“For blackmail?” I ask, my tone sharp.

“For you,” he replies, his voice maddeningly smug. “When you try to get rid of her, it’ll be nice to use this as the perfect blackmail to make you reconsider.”

He strides toward the door, leaving me alone with his parting words and the weight of what’s just happened.

The game just started…

And I lost.

Morning After Tempting Chaos

~FELIX~

The buzz of my phone jerks me from a deep sleep, the screen's glow painfully bright in the darkness.

6:00 AM glares at me accusingly.

"Fuck off," I mutter, slapping blindly at the screen until the alarm stops. The room falls back into blessed silence, and I burrow deeper into whatever makeshift pillow this is.

Fifteen minutes later, the alarm blares again.

"I swear to God, Felix," Carter's voice growls from somewhere to my left. "Shut that shit up before I get up and knock you out." A pained groan follows. "Fuck, my back hurts."

I force my eyes open, squinting at the blurry world around me. Everything's a fuzzy mess without my glasses, which...where the hell did I put them last night?

Memories start filtering back slowly as I pat around the surface next to me.

We'd ended up in the kitchen after the whole scene in Holmes's office. I remember watching Carter, of all people, actually cooking.

That was something I hadn't seen in years.

The memories are crystal clear in my mind.

Carter moving through the kitchen with practiced ease, pulling ingredients from cabinets and working with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserves for high-stakes negotiations.

Elizabeth had perched on the counter, her legs swinging as she watched him with fascinated amusement.

It reminded me so much of when we were younger.

Back when Carter would spend hours in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes from every culture he could find. His mother had encouraged it, always praising his creations and suggesting new techniques.

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