Page 2 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

You’ve bonded with an omega that was on the list, Ren!

Fuck their list. And fuck every asshole alpha who had their eyes on Finn.

Amaya

They want him.

They’re willing to trade.

Trade? FUCK THEM.

Fuck.

Fuck!

It’s not over.

I took Finn as mymate,and it still isn’t over.

Amaya isn’t trying to warn me. She’s delivering a message.

My blood runs cold, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as rage turns my blood to lava. My parents.

They’re not going to let up, are they. Even when they know he’s mine.

Which means Finn isn’t safe. None of us is.

I glance at him again, at the soft curve of his mouth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He’s drifting in that space between sleep and wakefulness, exhausted from the tension of the dinner, unaware of the danger closing in around us.

I need to get him home. Need to tell Stone and Jax. Need to get us all to that cabin I have in the woods before?—

Headlights flare in my rearview mirror, blinding in their intensity. A vehicle approaching fast. Too fast for these weather conditions. Too fast to be anything but deliberate.

“Shit.” I press down on the accelerator, trying to put distance between us and the approaching car. The rain makes the road treacherous, and even with my car’s sports tires, I can feel the slip and slide beneath us.

Finn stirs, roused by the sudden acceleration. “Ren?” He blinks, sleep still clouding his eyes as he straightens in his seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, baby,” I lie, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face in half. “Just trying to beat the worst of the storm.”

But he’s always been too perceptive, too attuned to my moods. He turns in his seat, following my gaze to the rearview mirror, to the headlights bearing down on us. “Someone’s in a hurry,” he remarks, frowning slightly.

Before I can respond, the vehicle behind us surges forward, closing the distance in seconds. It’s close enough now that I can make out its shape—boxy, matte black, windows tinted so dark they swallow the streetlights whole.

I know this van. Know the way its suspension groans when loaded. Know the particular squeak of its rear doors from that night months ago, when my curiosity finally overrode family loyalty.

Rain had been falling then too, muffling my footsteps as I slipped through the delivery entrance of Dad’s company, keeping to the shadows as I followed the betas down to the basement. The scent had hit me first—cloying artificial citrus barely masking sweat and fear. Then the sounds. Whimpers behind locked doors. The sound of machines beeping.

Finn shifts beside me, and my fingers tighten even harder on the wheel. That basement had held six omegas in various states of sedation, IV drips feeding them suppressants while they waited for “processing.” The medical trays full of bonding suppressants and pheromone enhancers. The files with their price tags in neat columns.

“Ren,” Finn’s voice is sharper now, worry edging into his tone. “What’s going on?”

I don’t answer, too focused on maintaining control of our vehicle, eyes on the blurry traffic lights marking the intersection ahead. The van behind us is still closing in, its intent unmistakable now.

It’s going to ram us.

I accelerate harder, overtaking a sedan faster than is safe, feeling the wheels lose traction for a heart-stopping moment before they grip again. Finn grabs the door handle, his eyes wide, his scent spiking with fear.

“Ren, talk to me.” My heart clenches. I hate hearing him so panicked. “What’s happening?”

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