Page 32 of Knot My Type

"She deserved to know," I say.

"She did," he agrees, moving to lean against the dresser. His long frame makes the furniture look smaller, and he has to be careful not to hit his head on the light fixture. "What did you think, Eliana? Now that you know what kind of criminals you've tied yourself to?"

There's a lightness to his tone, but I can hear the real question underneath. Rhys has been carrying his own guilt about that night, his own worry about what it means for our future. He helped me escape, helped me build this pack, but he's never stopped wondering if we did the right thing.

"I think," Eliana says carefully, "that you're both idiots if you think I'd change my mind about anything because you protected a child."

Rhys's eyebrows rise, and a slow grin spreads across his face. "Idiots, huh?"

"Complete idiots," she confirms, but there's affection in her voice. "Did you really think I'd be horrified that my alphas have a conscience?"

"The thought had occurred to us," Rhys says dryly.

"Well, you were wrong." She looks between us with exasperation that's equal parts fond and frustrated. "You saved someone who needed saving. You've spent three years building something good out of something terrible. You've given me a home and a family and safety I never thought I'd have. So no, I'm not horrified. I'm grateful."

The conviction in her voice, the absolute certainty, makes something tight in my chest finally loosen. For three years I've been waiting for judgment, for someone to look at what I did and see only the violence. But Eliana sees the choice behind the action, the desperate need to protect that drove me to kill.

"There's more," I say, because she deserves the whole truth. "The Thorne sons – they're still out there. Still looking forus. And they don't just want me, they want all of us. Anyone associated with their father's death."

"How close have they gotten?" she asks, practical as always.

"Close enough," Rhys answers. "We've had to move three times in the past year. They're persistent, I'll give them that."

"Are we safe here?"

"For now," I say. "This territory is well-protected, and we've got allies who'll warn us if anyone comes sniffing around. But it's not permanent. Nothing is, with them still out there."

She nods, processing this information with the same calm acceptance she's shown everything else. "Then we stay alert and we stay together. Whatever comes, we handle it as a pack."

"Just like that?" Rhys asks, sounding almost amused.

"Just like that," she confirms. "Unless you were expecting me to pack my bags and run screaming into the night?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," I admit.

"Well, you can uncross it." She finally releases my hand, but only to scoot over and pat the space beside her on the bed. "Now come here. Both of you. If we're going to be a pack, we might as well act like one."

Rhys and I exchange a look, something passing between us that doesn't need words. Three years of partnership, of watching each other's backs and building something from nothing, has given us a connection that goes deeper than friendship. And now, with Eliana accepting all of it – accepting us – that connection feels stronger than ever.

I settle onto the bed beside her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Rhys takes the chair near the window, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and for a moment we just sit in comfortable silence.

"Tell me about the girl," Eliana says eventually. "The omega you saved. What happened to her?"

"She's safe," Rhys answers. "The Riverside pack took her in, gave her a proper home. Last I heard, she was mated to a good alpha, has a couple of pups of her own now."

"She sends us a card every year," I add quietly. "Christmas cards, with pictures of her family. Never signs her name, but we know it's her."

"She remembers," Eliana says softly.

"She remembers," I confirm.

We sit with that for a while, the weight of it settling around us like a blanket. One terrified sixteen-year-old omega, now grown and safe and happy because three strangers decided to do the right thing instead of the easy thing.

"No regrets," Eliana says finally, and it's not a question.

"No regrets," Rhys and I say in unison, and for the first time in three years, I actually mean it.

The rain outside has picked up again, drumming steadily against the windows, but it doesn't feel ominous anymore. It just feels like weather, like the natural rhythm of the world continuing around us while we sit here in our small bubble of warmth and acceptance.

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