Page 97 of Knot Their Arrangement

Blood trails down her face from what must be injuries from the crash, mixing with rain and tears. Her eyes hold the same defiance I remember, though it's tempered now by exhaustion and something deeper – a bone-deep weariness I understand too well.

She's even more beautiful than I remembered.

Not just physically, though years have refined her features into something that would stop traffic even without the traditional attire. It's the way she carries herself, the strength that shows through despite her obvious fear and fatigue.

My mind flashes back to that first meeting.

I wasn't supposed to be there either – a teenager trying to understand the "family business" by following my brother to his dealings.

I wanted to know how real men made money in our world, thought I could learn something about power and respect.

Instead, I learned about desire.

She called herself Trouble, and the name fit perfectly – not because she was dangerous, but because of how she made me feel while we got lost in chaos and mischief. At the time, the nickname fit her perfectly, no different to mine.

Riot…

Her scent hit me first, a combination of sweetness and spices that made my mouth water and my head spin.

I'd scented Omegas before, of course. Growing up in the underground racing scene, you encountered all types. But this was different. She hadn't even presented yet –I could tell by the subtle variations in her pheromones– but something about her called to me on a molecular level.

And only to me.

That was what made it special.

Others walked past her without a second glance, but to me, she was a beacon in the darkness. Her scent wrapped around me like destiny, like something I'd been searching for without knowing it existed.

I remember watching others fail to react to her presence and feeling special: chosen. Like the universe had created a frequency only I could tune into, a song only I could hear.

Then I got to meet her. Talk with her. Learn tiny tidbits while the sizzling connection between us was almost hypnotic.

I knew she was younger and I should stay away, and yet I couldn’t dare do that. I didn’t want to be far apart from this woman who seemed to light my insides up while making me feel uniquely different to the rest of the world that shunned me away.

One thing lead to another, and suddenly seven days had gone by like a whirlwind. Riot and Trouble causing mischief and chaos everywhere we went.

Until it ended abruptly.

That’s when I was forced to see what power can do…

That was when I was forced to realize that it was my status that saved me that night.

Nothing more.

I catch onto her first movements as she slowly turns like a possessed robot. I don’t know the extent of what she endured in the car ride, but if I think about it, I’ll dare lose my mind.

Lose this controlled edge that would tip and hunt every single individual who dared harm her in any shape or form.

That’s why that fucker in the car got a taste of Karma the best way I know how.

She moves toward me with mechanical precision, like a wind-up doll approaching its maker. Every step seems to cost her tremendous effort, and I can read the internal battle in her posture – the way her mind must be screaming at her to run while something deeper draws her forward.

She thinks I might kill her.

The realization hurts more than it should. But then, what else could she think? She just watched me execute Maharaja without hesitation. The boy she knew would never have done that – but then, that boy died years ago, burned away by necessity and revenge.

She also probably doesn’t recognize me. Not with this mask. The single layer of protection ensures I can go wild in my pursuit of vengeance and mayhem.

All those who’ve witnessed this mask hate to see me coming. The reaper of judgment is in the midst, ready to slay anyone who tries to ruin his era of reign.

---