Page 56 of Knot My Type

"Ours," she whispers as we settle around her, still connected by knots and newly formed bonds. "Finally ours."

"Finally," Kael agrees, his voice rough with emotion.

The heat doesn't break immediately—it rarely does after the first claiming. But something settles in all of us, a bone-deep satisfaction that speaks of completion. We arrange ourselves around her in a tangle of limbs and shared warmth, creating the nest she needs to feel safe and claimed.

"Sleep," Rhys murmurs against her hair. "We'll be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

"Promise," we all say together, and for the first time since this began, she truly relaxes.

As she drifts off surrounded by her pack, her new bonds settling into place like missing puzzle pieces, I can't help but think that sometimes the best things come from the worst storms. She came to us broken and running, and now she's choosing to stay, to build something new and beautiful from the ashes of her old life.

Outside, I can hear the distant sound of snowplows clearing the roads. The world is opening up again, full of possibilities and choices.

But inside our nest, surrounded by the scent of our omega and the warmth of our pack, I know we've already made the only choice that matters.

RHYS

Iwatch Eliana through the kitchen window as she sits at the small wooden table on the back porch, her laptop balanced on her knees, fingers flying across the keys with an intensity I've never seen before since the three months that she has been here. The morning light catches in her dark hair, creating subtle highlights that make my chest tighten with something I'm still learning to name. She's been out there since dawn, completely absorbed in whatever world she's creating on that screen.

The storm finally broke yesterday evening, leaving behind crystalline air and patches of blue sky that seem almost too bright after weeks of gray. The snow is already beginning to melt in earnest, creating small rivulets that trickle down from the eaves and pool in the yard. Spring is coming early this year, and with it, the end of our enforced isolation.

The end of whatever this is between us.

I pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot Fen made earlier, inhaling the rich aroma that mingles with the lingering scents of bacon and eggs from breakfast. Kael insisted on cooking this morning, probably as an excuse to bang around the kitchen and work off some of the restless energy that's been building in allof us. The knowledge that Eliana could leave at any time now sits heavy in the air, unspoken but present in every glance, every careful word.

"She's been out there for three hours," Fen observes quietly, joining me at the window. His hazel eyes track Eliana's movements with the same careful attention he gives everything else. "Hasn't even looked up once."

"Writing," I murmur, taking a sip of coffee that tastes bitter on my tongue. "It's what she does."

What she'll go back to doing in her own life, in her own space, without us.

Kael emerges from the hallway, still pulling on a fresh shirt. His dark hair is damp from the shower, and he moves with that controlled energy that tells me he's been thinking too hard about things he can't control. His eyes immediately find Eliana through the window, and I watch his expression soften in a way that would surprise anyone who doesn't know him like Fen and I do.

"Roads should be clear by afternoon," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "Main highway's been plowed twice since yesterday."

The words hit like stones dropping into still water, sending ripples of awareness through the kitchen. None of us respond immediately, but the tension ratchets up another notch. We all know what clear roads mean.

I set my mug down on the counter, the ceramic clicking against granite in the sudden silence. "We should talk to her."

"About what?" Fen asks, though we all know exactly what.

"About the fact that she doesn't have to leave," Kael says bluntly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "About the fact that we don't want her to."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the sandy brown strands stick up at odd angles. This conversation has beencircling us for days, ever since the weather started clearing. None of us wants to be the first to say what we're all thinking, but time is running out.

"It's not that simple," I say, though part of me wishes it were. "She has a life, responsibilities. A career that doesn't involve being snowed in with three guys in the middle of nowhere."

"Does she?" Fen's question is quiet but pointed. "Because from what she's told us, that life wasn't making her particularly happy."

He's right, and I know it. The Eliana who arrived here a month ago was wound tight with stress and disappointment, carrying the weight of betrayal and professional uncertainty. The woman sitting on our porch right now, lost in her writing with an expression of pure contentment, is someone entirely different. Someone who's found something here that she wasn't getting in her old life.

But wanting something and being able to have it are two different things entirely.

I move away from the window, needing space to think clearly. The kitchen feels too small suddenly, filled with the scents of home and the weight of unspoken possibilities. "You know she'll say yes if we ask her to stay."

"That's the problem?" Kael's voice carries a hint of his usual growl.

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