Page 46 of Knot My Type

"But this past month with you has proven me wrong. You're not a liability, Eliana. You're our strength. You see things we miss, you care in ways we've forgotten how to care, and yeah, your omega nature affects us—but it makes us better, not weaker."

He ran a hand through his too-long hair, looking almost vulnerable for a moment. "I've been guarding myself against that for years, afraid of what it would mean to truly bond with an omega. But maybe it's time I let go of that guard. And maybe you need to do the same."

The firelight danced across his features as he spoke, and I could smell the sincerity in his scent—that smoky, warm muskthat reminded me so much of my lost Alpha, but different too. Deeper, more complex, more real.

"We're not your old pack," Rhys added, his hand still covering mine. "We're not going anywhere, and we sure as hell aren't going to let anyone hurt you on our watch."

Fen smiled that quiet, knowing smile of his. "Besides, we've survived a month trapped in this cabin together. If we were going to fall apart, don't you think it would have happened by now?"

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising all of us. It tasted like relief and possibility, like the first warm day after a long winter.

"I suppose you have a point," I said, feeling lighter than I had in months.

Outside, the storm continued to rage, but inside our little cabin, surrounded by the scents and warmth of my packmates, I finally felt like I might be home.

Maybe it was time for all of us to let our guards down and see what we could build together.

The fire crackled, the tea grew cold, and for the first time since that terrible night in the forest, I allowed myself to hope that my omega nature might be a gift rather than a curse.

KAEL

Iwoke before dawn, as I always did, my internal clock more reliable than any alarm. The cabin was quiet except for the settling of old wood and the whisper of dying embers in the fireplace. But something was different. It took me a moment to place it—the howling wind that had been our constant companion for the past month had finally stilled.

Rolling out of bed, I padded barefoot to the window and pushed aside the heavy curtains. What I saw made me freeze.

Sunlight. Actual fucking sunlight, streaming through breaks in the clouds like golden spears piercing the gloom. The snow had stopped falling, and while drifts still buried the landscape in pristine white, I could see patches of dark earth showing through where the wind had scoured the ground clean.

The storm was breaking.

My chest tightened with an emotion I didn't want to name. Relief, maybe. Or dread. Hard to tell the difference when they both felt like a fist around my heart.

I found Rhys and Fen already in the kitchen, moving around each other with the easy familiarity we'd developed over the weeks. Rhys was manning the coffee pot while Fen worked on breakfast, the scents of bacon and eggs beginning to fill the air.They looked up when I entered, and I saw my own recognition reflected in their faces.

"You saw it too," Rhys said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." I slumped into one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table, suddenly feeling every one of my thirty-two years. "How long do you think before the roads are passable?"

Fen flipped the bacon with practiced efficiency. "Weather report last night said the plows would start running today if the snow stopped. Could be as early as this afternoon for the main roads."

The coffee maker gurgled, and Rhys poured three mugs without being asked. He set one in front of me, and I wrapped my hands around the ceramic, needing the warmth more than the caffeine.

"We need to talk about this," I said, my voice rough with sleep and something deeper.

"About what?" But Rhys knew. We all did.

"About Eliana. About what happens when she can leave."

The words tasted like ash in my mouth. After last night, after her confession and the way she'd finally started to let her guard down, the thought of her walking away felt like tearing off a limb.

Fen served up plates of eggs and bacon, the domestic normalcy of it at odds with the tension crackling between us. "She might not want to leave," he said quietly.

"Don't." I shook my head. "Don't do that. Don't give us false hope."

"Is it false?" Rhys settled into his chair, those green eyes of his serious for once. "You saw her last night, Kael. Really saw her. That wasn't someone looking for the exit."

I had seen her. Curled up on the couch in that oversized sweater, dark hair falling around her face, those matching dark eyes finally free of the haunted look that had shadowed them when we first found her. She'd been beautiful in that moment—not just physically, though Christ knew she was gorgeous in ways that made my alpha hindbrain go stupid—but beautiful in her vulnerability, her trust, her willingness to share the worst part of herself with us.

"Doesn't matter what I saw," I said, stabbing at my eggs with more force than necessary. "She's been trapped here for a month. Of course she's made the best of it. That doesn't mean she wants to stay."

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