Page 133 of Knot Their Arrangement

"The lockdown went up earlier today, but she'd already taken off after calling for backup in terms of financial protection." A bitter laugh escapes me. "Apparently some big business shit requires calling in the big guns to protect the space so those with loads of mula are hesitant to continue blackmailing."

"She was with Knox, the owner of Knox Gym," I continue, remembering the reassuring presence of the massive Alpha who's been one of our strongest allies. "Though I didn't like leaving her in that state but I’m sure Knox can be of support."

My fingers trace patterns in the dust on the windowsill – the only sign that cleaning wasn't someone's top priority during this evacuation.

"Besides, what could I possibly do anyway? I'm just an 'average' Omega cut off by her family for being a runaway bride and now I’ve just brought a pack I just met to my little safe spot since I'm going to marry them in like a day." The sarcasm in my voice can't quite hide the underlying anxiety. "Totally not sketchy at all."

I notice Damon smirk at that while Ezekiel moves to my side, a hand gently laying upon my lower back as if to give me some level of moral support.

"Then anything left here isn't as vitally important?" Ezekiel asks, his tone suggesting he's already forming plans and contingencies.

I appreciate his touch but also the fact he’s focused and wants us to do a final review of this place just in case I don’t leave anything behind.

Walking to my room, I wrinkle my nose at the odd smell that greets me. Either the movers reeked, or someone else had been here – though they clearly found nothing worth taking after realizing we'd already cleared out.

"Astraea took everything of value," I confirm, scanning the now-barren space that used to be my sanctuary. The missing photos hurt most – all those captured moments of happiness and friendship now safely hidden away somewhere. "Anything left is kind of the stuff where if the house burned down, I'd survive."

My hand drifts to the empty closet where my carefully curated wardrobe used to hang.

"All the valuable clothes and heirloom pieces from my family are probably tucked away except..." I trail off, remembering the one treasure Astraea wouldn't know about, the one thing I kept hidden even from my best friend.

The room feels wrong without all my personal touches – the fairy lights that used to twinkle along the walls, the collection of romance novels that filled custom-built shelves, the soft throws and pillows that made this space feel like a nest rather than just a bedroom.

But the wrongness goes deeper than missing possessions. There's a sense of violation here, like someone's trampled through my safe space with muddy boots.

Astraea must have worked quickly to clear everything out.

She knows me well enough to understand which items hold real value – not just monetary worth, but emotional significance.

The traditional garments passed down through generations, the jewelry that tells our family's story in gold and precious stones, the carefully preserved documents that prove our royal lineage despite my father's attempts to erase it.

The dogs' absence speaks volumes about her level of concern.

She wouldn't have taken them unless she truly believed there was serious danger. Our four-legged companions aren't just pets – they're trained protection animals, capable of detecting threats and alerting us to danger.

The fact that she felt they needed to be evacuated suggests she anticipated real trouble.

Approaching the bed, I grip the edge of the mattress with determined purpose.

Though it looks substantial, years of use have worn it down to almost nothing – just another hand-me-down that's served countless Omegas seeking refuge in the Safe Haven. The lightness makes it easy to lift, revealing the wooden floorboards beneath.

My fingers find the loose panel with practiced precision, muscle memory guiding me to the exact spot where I've hidden my most precious possession.

The board comes up easily, revealing an ornate box adorned with deep red and sapphire blue gems that catch what little light filters through the windows.

A satisfied smirk plays on my lips as I lift the box from its hiding place.

Opening it reveals the true treasure within – a bedazzled bracelet that puts the box's decoration to shame. The piece is a masterwork of traditional craftsmanship, nearly three inches wide and crafted from solid gold that's been worked into intricate patterns representing our family's history.

Precious stones form complex mandalas across its surface – rubies and sapphires arranged in sacred geometric patterns that tell stories of our lineage.

Each gem has been hand-set with perfect precision, creating a piece that's both jewelry and historical documents. The way the stones catch the light makes them seem alive like they hold memories of all the strong women who've worn it before me.

The bracelet's weight feels significant as I slide it onto my wrist, though whether that's from the actual gold or the generations of history it represents, I'm not sure.

The familiar touch of it against my skin brings comfort – this tangible connection to the powerful women in my family's past.

"What is that?" Ezekiel's voice comes from the doorway, his tone carrying genuine curiosity.

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