Page 48 of Knot My Type

After breakfast, Eliana helped Fen clear the dishes while Rhys and I moved to the living room. I found myself gravitating toward the window, watching the slow transformation outside as more patches of earth revealed themselves through the melting snow.

"You're brooding," Rhys observed, settling onto the couch.

"I'm thinking."

"Same thing, in your case."

I shot him a look, but there was no heat in it. He was right, and we both knew it. I'd always been the brooding type—too serious, too intense, too quick to shoulder the weight of the world.

"She's going to want to leave," I said, voicing the fear that had been eating at me since I'd seen that first ray of sunlight.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Have hope?" Rhys leaned forward, his green eyes intense. "Kael, that woman has been through hell. She lost everything—her pack, her alpha, her sense of safety. And in the past month, we've given her something she thought she'd never have again."

"Temporary shelter."

"A home," he corrected firmly. "A family. A pack that actually gives a damn about her wellbeing instead of seeing her as a liability."

From the kitchen came the sound of Eliana's laughter, bright and unguarded. Fen had probably said something dry and witty—he had a talent for catching her off guard with his quiet humor.

"Look at her," Rhys continued. "Really look. Does that seem like someone who's counting down the hours until she can escape?"

I wanted to argue, but the truth was I'd been watching her all month. I'd seen the gradual relaxation of her shoulders, the way her smiles came easier now, the growing trust in her eyes when she looked at us. She'd stopped flinching when we moved too quickly, stopped positioning herself near exits, stopped sleeping with a knife under her pillow.

"She's healing," I admitted.

"With us. Because of us." His voice gentled. "I know you're scared, man. We all are. But running scared isn't going to protect any of us from getting hurt."

The sound of the front door opening interrupted whatever response I might have made. Fen appeared in the doorway, his usually neat hair mussed by wind.

"Roads?" I asked.

He nodded. "Main highway's been plowed. Side roads will take longer, but..." He didn't need to finish. We all knew what it meant.

"How long?" Rhys's voice was carefully neutral.

"Hour, maybe two, before someone could make it up the mountain road to get her."

An hour. Maybe two.

I closed my eyes, feeling the walls of our temporary paradise cracking around us. In an hour, Eliana could walk out of our lives as suddenly as she'd entered them. She could disappear back into the world, and we'd be left with nothing but memories and the lingering scent of omega in our space.

"We should tell her," Fen said quietly.

"Yeah." I opened my eyes, surprised to find them burning. "We should."

But neither of us moved. Rhys stayed frozen on the couch, his usually expressive face carefully blank. I remained at the window, watching the sun break through the clouds with all the enthusiasm of a man watching his own execution.

"Guys?" Eliana's voice from the kitchen doorway made us all turn. She stood there with a dish towel in her hands, her expression curious but tinged with growing concern. "Is everything okay? You all look like someone died."

The innocent question hit like a physical blow. Someone had died—the version of ourselves that had existed in this cabin for the past month. The pack we'd built in isolation, protected from the outside world by walls of snow and storm.

"The storm's breaking," I said, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat.

Understanding dawned in her dark eyes, followed quickly by something that might have been pain. "Oh."

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