Page 128 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“You don’t want to touch me,” I repeat, more a statement than a question now. “I’ve noticed.Why?”

For a long moment, Ren remains silent, his expression unreadable. Then, just as I’m about to give up on getting an answer, he speaks, his voice breaking on the words.

“I do…I just…fuck.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I don’t trust myself not to hurt you.”

The admission should make sense. Should ease the ache that’s been building in my chest. Instead, it ignites something fierce and indignant within me.

“That’s bullshit,” I snap.

All three of us freeze. My heart slams in my chest. What did I just say? Months ago, I would have never dreamed of standing up to an alpha, of challenging one so directly. The woman I was then would have been horrified.Terrifiedof the consequences.

But I’m not that woman anymore.

“That’s bullshit,” I repeat, softer but no less intense. “You almost…You almost died for me. You fought for me. Now fight for us.”

Ren’s eyes, when they meet mine, hold a complexity of emotion I can’t fully untangle—surprise, respect, and beneath it all, a desperate, hungry hope.

Then, to my utter astonishment, he dips his head in acquiescence. “Okay.”

The simple word, spoken with such quiet conviction, defuses my anger as quickly as it arose. I blink, thrown off balance by his easy acceptance.

“Okay?” I echo, glancing at Finn, who looks equally perplexed.

“But before I do,” Ren continues, his voice steadier now, “there’s something I need to show you. Both of you.”

He turns without waiting for a response, heading for the stairs with the clear expectation that we’ll follow. Finn and I exchange a confused look before trailing after him, the pizza dough left forgotten on the counter.

Ren leads us to his bedroom—a space I’ve never entered. The room is exactly what I might have expected from him: minimalist, functional, with few personal touches beyond a well-stocked bookshelf and a surprisingly beautiful painting of Finn hanging above the bed.

What I don’t expect is the fireplace. It’s an elegant stone structure built into the far wall, currently cold and empty.

Ren moves to his closet, reaching up to the highest shelf to retrieve something. When he turns back to us, he’s holding a black wooden box, small enough to fit under his arm but substantial enough to suggest significant contents.

He places the box on the floor and sits beside it, gesturing for us to join him. Finn settles cross-legged across from him, and I follow suit, completing our small circle.

“Ren,” Finn says hesitantly, “what is this?”

Ren’s throat works as he swallows, his fingers tracing the edge of the box without opening it. His eyes meet Finn’s, then mine, unspoken emotion in that ice-blue gaze.

“That night,” he begins, “the accident that killed you, broke our bond, and destroyed our pack, I was running from?—”

“Oh, Ren,” Finn interrupts, reaching forward to touch his knee. “I told you. I know. You were running from your parents. I know what they were involved in. Stone and Jax told me.”

Ren’s gaze slides to me, filled with such naked guilt that it makes my chest ache. “Yeah, but you don’t know all of it.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “That night, I was running because they wanted you, too.Caldwellwanted you. That van that was ramming us must have been his. The accident, all of it, was because of my involvement in this ring.”

Finn’s eyes widen, tears gathering at the corners. “You weren’t involved.”

“Not directly, but they’re still my blood.” Ren’s voice is harsh with self-recrimination. He turns to me, his expression more open, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen it. “In this box are files I kept. Pictures. Details of things that happened. Things my family did while I lived under their roof.”

He swallows hard, his hand moving to the lock but not yet opening it. “Look at them…tell me if you still want me to love you.”

The painful earnestness in his voice strikes me to the core. This, I realize, is Ren’s apology—baring the ugliest parts of himself, giving me the choice to reject him, to walk away with full knowledge of the darkness he carries.

“The exact thing that took away six years of your life,” he continues, looking at me before shifting his gaze to Finn, “and almost took away yours for good,” his gaze shifts back to me, “is directly connected to me.”

I look at Finn, seeing the love and pain mingled in his eyes, feeling an echo of those same emotions in my own heart. Neither of us deserved what happened to us. But neither did Ren.

As he inserts a small key into the lock, I reach out, pressing my hand firmly over the lid of the box, preventing it from opening.

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