Page 130 of Knot Their Arrangement

"I made it very clear we had the intention of marrying Kamari." His tone suggests this was less a statement of intent and more a declaration of war. "But they were very firm with retaliation and further emphasized cultural and spiritual factors that would deem our pack not a good fit for Kamari."

"Cultural and spiritual implications my foot," Ezekiel huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. "We're ten times more culturally diverse than those bastards." His scowl deepens as he adds, "They're all clearly picked by favoritism and nothing more. Or better yet, ranked by who's the biggest douche bastard of the lot."

The crude assessment of my father's chosen pack draws a surprised laugh from me despite the gravity of the situation. Trust Ezekiel to cut through all the formal posturing and call it exactly what it is — a collection of men chosen not for compatibility or care, but for their willingness to maintain the status quo of male dominance.

The bluntness of his observation somehow makes it easier to breathe, to push back against the crushing weight of inevitability that's been pressing down on my chest since Damon started speaking. Because he's right – this has nothing to do with cultural preservation or spiritual bonds.

It's about power and control, about keeping Omegas submission through tradition and fear.

Looking around at my pack –and when did I start thinking of them as mine?– I see nothing but strength and determination. No defeat, no resignation, no acceptance of my father's interference as final.

Instead, I see four powerful Alphas, each unique in their abilities and influence, united in their desire to protect what they consider theirs.

They consider me worth the trouble I’ve already caused just by our unexpected crossing of paths.

The contrast between them and my father's chosen pack couldn't be more stark.

Where those men seek to diminish and control, these Alphas want to elevate and support. Where that pack would force submission through tradition and fear, this one offers protection through genuine care and respect.

The sunlight streaming through the windows catches the crystal tumbler Damon set down, creating rainbow patterns across the marble counter.

They dance and shift with each slight movement, beautiful and unpredictable – like the hope trying to bloom in my chest despite years of learned caution.

"What exactly were our options despite the obvious emphasis of our motives to claim our princess?" Kieran's question carries that analytical tone he probably uses in high-stakes financial negotiations, already looking for angles and possibilities.

Damon shifts slightly, his posture somehow becoming even more authoritative.

"I made our position absolutely clear regarding Kamari's status as our intended Omega." His golden eyes narrow slightly as he continues. "They presented various cultural and legal obstacles, but I informed them we would be attending their apparent ceremony in two days."

The mention of a ceremony makes me frown, understanding exactly what ritual they're invoking.

"It's called Samarpan Ka Utsav," I explain, the Hindi words feeling heavy on my tongue. "It's basically a public stance of proposal and marriage before a gathering of powerful individuals."

My hands twist in my lap as I elaborate, knowing they need to understand the full implications.

"It's not just any ceremony…it's a display of power and influence. The ultimate approval must come from the leading elder who has the money and power in the industry to back them up."

A bitter smile crosses my lips as I think of how things used to be.

"Before my father, it was my grandmother who held that position of authority." My voice softens as I mention her, memories of her quiet strength and hidden defiance surfacing. "But she fell extremely ill, and to be truthful, I have no idea if she's still with us or not in the land of the living."

The admission hurts more than I expected – this uncertainty about someone who meant so much to me.

"My family practically gatekeeps any information unless it benefits them to share something." The words carry years of frustration and pain, of being cut off from the few people who truly cared about my wellbeing.

Looking around at these men who've shown me more genuine care in twenty-four hours than my father's chosen pack did in years, I feel the familiar weight of resignation settle over me. There's no point fighting against the inevitable. No matter how much they might want to protect me, some traditions are too deeply entrenched to overcome.

A heavy sigh escapes me as I set Kieran's book aside with careful reverence.

"I should get ready to leave," I say quietly, hating how defeat colors my tone. "There's no point fighting the inevitable."

The words taste like ash in my mouth, but they carry the weight of experience.

How many times have I seen hope crushed beneath the wheels of tradition and power? How many others have tried to help me only to be overwhelmed by the sheer force of my father's influence and connections?

These men, powerful as they are, don't understand the intricate web of cultural obligations and spiritual manipulation that my father has spent years weaving.

They can't comprehend how thoroughly he's integrated himself into every aspect of our community's power structure, how carefully he's cultivated his image as a guardian of tradition and proper values.

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