Page 167 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“I recorded the whole thing,” Ren contributes unexpectedly. At our surprised looks, he shrugs unapologetically. “Insurance. In case they try to spin a different version later.”

The practical gesture of protection, so quintessentially Ren in its efficiency, brings fresh tears to my eyes. “Thank you,” Iwhisper, looking around at them. “All of you. For being there. For letting me handle it, but making sure I wasn’t alone.”

“Pack,” Stone says simply, the single word encompassingeverything.

By the time we reach home, I feel lighter than I have in months, as if I’ve set down a burden I didn’t fully realize I was still carrying.

In the kitchen, I remove the letter from my bag, studying the cold demands one final time before making a decision. “I want to burn this,” I announce. “In the garden. Will you come with me?”

They follow without question as I move through the house and out the back door, crossing the lawn to where Finn’s new garden flourishes in the spring evening. Stone, understanding my intention without explanation, kneels to start digging a small hole. I rip the letter and drop it into it as Finn hands me a firelighter.

When the paper ignites, I watch as the edges begin to curl and blacken. “This is the last piece,” I say softly. “The final connection to who I was before. To what was done to me.”

I watch as the letter is consumed, transformed from threatening words to harmless ash, and my pack stands with me.

As the last fragments burn away, a new idea forms.

“I want to keep the ashes in the soil,” I say, looking to Finn then Stone for permission. “Something ugly to help grow something beautiful.”

Finn’s expression softens with understanding and approval. “The roses would welcome it.”

“They’re fighters.” Stone nods.

I swallow hard, kneeling as I cover the ashes with dirt. The path that brought me here was darker and more painful than anyone should have to travel, but where it’s led me is beyond anything I could have imagined for myself.

The evening air smells of turned earth and possibility.

I stand, brushing dirt from my knees, and find four pairs of eyes watching me with the same quiet certainty that I belong here, in this circle of warmth, in this garden that will bloom where ashes were buried.

Finn laces his fingers through mine. “Come on, sunshine,” he says, tugging me toward the house where golden light spills from the windows. “Tomorrow’s waiting.”

And…I realize I’m not afraid of what tomorrow might bring. Not with them beside me. Not with this pack that has become my home.

The back door clicks shut behind us, but I don’t look back.

Epilogue

Hailey

One year later...

I wake drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin feels too hot, every nerve ending firing as the throbbing between my thighs gets stronger with each heartbeat.

My heat has arrived.

Last year this time, I was locked in a sterile room at Heath’s facility, my body forced into an artificial cycle. Now this heat is natural, arising from my own rhythm.

“Finn,” I murmur, reaching across the empty space beside me. The sheets are cool; he must have gotten up earlier. After months of living together, our heats have synchronized perfectly, and this one feels like the most intense yet.

I drag myself from the nest on shaky legs, my thin sleep shirt sticking to my sweaty skin. Each step sends friction between my thighs where I’m already embarrassingly wet. By the time I splash cool water on my face, I can feel slick running down my inner thighs.

My reflection shows blown pupils, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. My scent has changed too, grown heavier to draw my alphas near.

Stone appears in the doorway, shirtless and hard. The sight of his muscled torso makes another wave of need pulse through me.

“You’re up,” he says, nostrils flaring as he breathes in my scent. “How bad?”

“Getting there,” I grip the sink to steady myself. “Finn?”

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