Page 3 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“I don’t know,” I lie again, even as the pieces click into place. Amaya’s text. The SUV. The timing of it all.

They’re coming for Finn. Coming to take him. Coming to punish me for what I did, for the omega I stole from them, for the betrayal of everything the family stands for.

The SUV rams us from behind, the impact jarring, metal crunching against metal. Our vehicle lurches forward, and I fight to maintain control, to keep us on the rain-slicked road. When Finn cries out, the sound tears through me like a knife.

“Hold on,” I grit out, pushing the accelerator to the floor, desperate now to outrun our pursuers.

But they’re relentless, closing the distance again, ramming us a second time. This impact is harder, catching the rear corner of the car and sending us into a spin.

The world blurs, everything moving too fast and too slow all at once. The screech of tires, the sound of Finn’s terrified gasp, worse the bitter scent of his fear and the sickening sensation of weightlessness as we start to skid.

And then I see it, through the rain and chaos—another intersection ahead and the massive logging truck barreling through, its driver unaware of our drama, its tonnage of steel and timber looking like death in disguise. We’re sliding directly into its path, a collision that would crush us instantly.

At the same moment, from the opposite direction, another vehicle approaches. Small, moving fast, its headlights cutting through the storm. The glow of pink LED lights in the rims of the tires.

Amaya.

She’s in that car. She’s the only one I know with a car like that. My sister, coming to deliver her message in person. Coming to ensure the buyer gets what they want.

But she’s driving too fast, unaware of the chaos unfolding ahead of her. Unaware of the SUV that’s still pushing us, forcing us toward that truck, toward certain death.

In that moment, time fractures.

They say right at the moment you die, time slows down. Maybe this was it.

I see everything with impossible clarity—the approaching truck, the inevitable collision, Finn’s pale face turned toward me, eyes wide with fear. I see the choice laid out before me with brutal simplicity.

Swerve left, toward the approaching car—toward Amaya. Shield Finn from the impact with the logging truck and take the brunt of it myself. Save him at the cost of my sister.

Swerve right, toward the empty shoulder where wemightslide past the truck. But the angle is wrong, the physicsunforgiving—Finn’s side would take the brunt of any collision. Save Amaya at the cost of Finn’s safety.

There’s no time to think, to weigh, to choose. There’s only instinct and the desperate need to protect what’s mine.

For a split second, I wonder if my parents would really go this far—if they would risk their own son’s life just to reclaim an omega. If this is all some elaborate bluff, a game of chicken they expect me to lose.

But the truck is real. The danger is real. And I can’t gamble with Finn’s life.

So…

I swerve left.

The collision is deafening, metal screaming against metal, glass shattering, airbags deploying in a violent explosion of white. The impact sends us spinning again, our car rolling once, twice, before coming to rest on its side.

Pain explodes through me, sharp and all-consuming. I can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t think past the ringing in my ears and the taste of blood in my mouth.

Finn.

I’m dazed but conscious, hanging in my seatbelt, a few cuts stinging my arms and face. But Finn?—

“Finn!” I cry out, and this time my voice works, sharp with terror.

His door has crumpled inward, twisted metal gouging deep into his midsection. Blood—so much blood—soaking his shirt, his jeans, the seat beneath him.

“No. No, no, no,” I’m fumbling with my seatbelt, ignoring the pain shooting through my shoulder. “Finn, look at me. Stay with me.”

His eyes flutter open briefly, unfocused, glazed with shock. “Ren,” he whispers, so faint I barely hear it.

And then I smell it. The gasoline. Heat.

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