Page 22 of Knot Their Arrangement

No one quite knew what to make of me. To most people, I looked like a tanned Korean, but that simple categorization missed the complexity of who I was. The way I carried myself, my mannerisms, even my way of thinking – it was all influenced by both cultures in ways that often conflicted.

"You know what's funny?" I continue, feeling unusually reflective. "I spent years trying to find some sort of middle ground, some way to balance both sides of my heritage. Until eventually, I just... stopped caring."

"That's when I met you," Damon adds softly.

"You and Rhett," I agree. "Suddenly I had people in my corner who didn't try to categorize me…didn't expect me to choose one identity over the other."

It's not that my parents weren't supportive – they were, almost fiercely so. My Father, proud of his Indian heritage but open-minded enough to embrace Korean culture for my Mother's sake. And my Mother, who learned to cook curry alongside her kimchi, who wore saris to Diwali celebrations with the same grace she wore hanbok to Seollal.

However parental support, while crucial, is different from peer acceptance.

My parents could create a safe space at home, but they couldn't protect me from the outside world's confusion and occasional hostility.

"There was something in her eyes," I say, thinking back to the Omega. "Something that reminded me of myself at nineteen, when I was running from those goons who tried to force me into their pack."

A shiver runs down my spine at the traumatizing memory. The injustice and racism one can experience in a world that loves to use those who are deemed “worthy” in the spur of the moment.

Even after ten years, the memory of that night still weighs heavy. The terror of being hunted, of knowing that as an unmated Alpha, I was seen as prime recruitment material for packs looking to expand their territory.

Only if it gave them advantages.

In my case, diversity was only encouraged if it meant giving the pack an extra bonus or two every month for looking “outside the box”.

"You went quiet again," Damon says, but his voice sounds closer now.

No longer coming through the phone.

I look up to find him leaning against my car, a cigarette held elegantly between his fingers while his phone remains pressed to his ear. Our eyes meet, and the intensity in his gaze makes my blood heat.

Fuck…this man still drives me insane.

You’d think after knowing each other for over ten years the intense connection would simmer a bit.Or a lot.Yet, with this criminal mastermind, it keeps getting hotter and hotter.

Or I’m just smitten as fuck.

"Those goons are six feet under for a reason," he reminds me, his voice carrying both through the phone and the night air between us.

I take the remaining steps needed to close our distance, watching as he exhales a stream of smoke to the side before pushing off my car.

We stand face to face, his 6'5" frame giving him just enough height advantage to make me tilt my head slightly to maintain eye contact.

The air between us crackles with familiar tension. This is how it's always been with us…this magnetic pull that defies logic and law alike. My detective badge feels heavy in my pocket, a reminder of all the lines we're not supposed to cross.

Damon leans in, his lips nearly brushing my ear as he whispers.

"Anyone threatens what's mine and they enjoy finding out the consequences."

His words send heat coursing through my veins.

And my cock…

It's been this way since the night he found me – bloody and cornered in an alley similar to the one I just left.

I was a rookie in many areas. Trying to be the good cop when I didn’t even have the credentials to be snooping around like some sort of hero. It was a foolish mistake that landed me in that tight dilemma — a rookie cop in the making about to be jumped by villainous crooks who aren’t afraid to get dirty.

Aren’t afraid of spilling blood.

Damon had appeared like an avenging angel, except angels don't typically leave seven bodies cooling on the pavement. Him with his getaway ride, Rhett in the driver seat, ready to get us out of that situation before the sirens of approaching officers could ring through the chilled night.

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