Page 105 of Knot Their Arrangement

Rain continues to fall as he delivers his ultimatum, each drop emphasizing his words like nature itself agrees with his judgment.

"If you're still here, I'll let the sniper finish what our Omega didn't out of the goodness of her heart, though you lot of fuckers don't deserve shit when your intentions was to fuck an innocent virgin Omega because you're starving for pussy." His disgust is palpable, coating each word like poison. "There's plenty of adult-only Alpha clubs where you can bang any Omega you wish with consent. Maybe think of that option next time you try to 'hunt' around these parts."

As if we'd let there be a next time.

The wounded men begin their pathetic retreat, literally crawling through mud and undergrowth. Blood trails mark their path, mixing with rain and earth to create macabre paintings on the forest floor.

Their leader lingers a few seconds longer, but he's smart enough to avoid looking in Trouble's direction. Something in his posture suggests he finally understands just how badly they misread this situation – how close they came to death rather than the easy prey they expected.

They disappear into the mist like the phantoms they tried to be, leaving only their blood mixing with rainwater as evidence of their presence. The forest seems to swallow them whole, erasing their existence as thoroughly as their pride has been destroyed.

The sudden silence feels heavy, broken only by the gentling rain. I notice the change in Trouble's posture a split second before it happens –the way her body starts to sway, the subtle loosening of her muscles.

It's like watching a string puppet whose lines are being cut one by one.

My arms are around her before she can fully collapse, catching her as her knees give out. Her body goes limp against me, and panic starts to rise in my throat.

The adrenaline that kept her going seemed to evaporate all at once, leaving her boneless in my embrace. But Ezekiel is already moving, dropping to one knee beside us with practiced efficiency.

The injectable he pulls out looks medical grade, its contents glowing slightly in the dim light.

His movements are precise as he administers it into her neck, the kind of steady hands that come from years of practice. Despite the obvious concern in his eyes, his hands remain steady, controlling the flow of whatever medication he's giving her with expert care.

"Breathe, Rhett," he says softly, and I realize I've stopped breathing.

The command in his voice helps center me, and pulls me back from the edge of the berserker rage that threatened to take over. I must look half-feral, ready to hunt down those men and finish what Trouble started.

The urge to chase them down, to paint the forest with their blood, pulses through me with each heartbeat.

"It's a recovery sedative," he explains, his calm tone acting like an anchor.

My heart still races, but the panic begins to subside. Medical training was part of his detective qualifications – if he says this is what she needs, I trust him completely.

Still, holding her unconscious form brings back memories of that week we shared, of protecting her from smaller dangers that seem laughable now.

The rain has slowed to a gentle mist as if nature itself is trying to soothe the violence we've witnessed.

Trouble's weight in my arms feels both precious and dangerous – this woman who can shoot like a trained assassin but still needs our protection.

The mask still covers her face, but I can feel her steady breathing, the way her body gradually relaxes into true sleep rather than collapsing.

What other surprises are you hiding, little Omega?

"The drug will help her recover and minimize side effects from the obvious shock of everything," Ezekiel explains, his voice carrying that calm authority that's saved countless lives in crisis situations. "But we need to get her to a medical center ASAP for proper treatment."

I don't need to be told twice.

In one fluid motion, I scoop her into my arms, cradling her against my chest like something precious. Her weight feels right there, like she's always belonged in my embrace.

If Ezekiel told me to run all the way to the hospital carrying her like this, I would – anything to ensure she gets the care she needs as quickly as possible.

Something in my expression must give away my thoughts because Ezekiel's lips quirk slightly.

"Damon and Kieran are already parked on the road in the 'ambulance,'" he says, emphasizing the word in a way that tells me it's probably one of Castellano's special vehicles – the kind equipped for both medical emergencies and potential firefights.

"You already know the drill," he continues, shifting into detective mode with practiced ease. "The driver hit you intentionally and proceeded to shoot at you. The Omega tried to protect you, getting injured along the way, and you had to hide because of the obvious reputation of this forest until I discovered you. Clear?"

"Clear," I repeat, already moving.

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