Page 28 of Knot Your Romeo

Mom’s expression grows concerned. “Emmie, I told you to be careful around the Alphas here.”

“Eli isn’t like other alphas,” I protest. “He’s gentle. Kind. He doesn’t make me feel like I need to be afraid.”

“That’s exactly what makes him dangerous,” Mom says quietly. “The ones who seem safe are often the most skilled at making you lower your guard. Like Blake.”

Her words echo in my mind as we eat dinner, but I can’t reconcile them with the man I spent the afternoon with. Eli feels genuine in a way that Blake never did, honest in a way that Romeo definitely isn’t, and he has that gentle confidence that Beck had. Maybe Mom’s paranoia is justified given our history, but maybe she’s also seeing threats where none existed.

After dinner, I settle into my window seat, my attention drifting to the manor house across the courtyard. Lights move behind the windows, suggesting the family is home for dinner. My phone buzzes with a text.

Lottie: Sorry I’ve been quiet. Carlos has been...attentive lately. Miss you.

I frown at the message. There’s something in the phrasing that worries me. ‘Attentive’ doesn’t sound like a good thing in Lottie’s context. But before I can respond, another text comes through.

Lottie: Can’t talk yet. Love you.

The abrupt ending leaves me staring at my phone with growing unease. Whatever’s happening with my sister, it’s clear she can’t talk freely. The thought of her trapped in another kindof cage, possibly suffering while I’m safe here in my cottage, makes my chest tight with guilt.

A soft knock at the cottage door interrupts my spiraling thoughts. Mom answers it, and I hear the low murmur of conversation before she calls up to me.

“Jolie? Professor Benson is here to see you.”

I make my way downstairs to find Jude standing in our small living room, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he says. “I wanted to check on you after today, and to give you this.” He hands me a thick packet of papers. “Additional reading on Omega biology, social dynamics, and rare scents. I thought you might find it interesting, given your questions about choice and biological imperatives.”

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s very kind.”

“Also,” he continues, glancing at Mom before returning his attention to me, “I wanted you to know that I’ve spoken with Principal Morrison about the incident today. There will be consequences for the students involved.”

Mom’s expression sharpens. “What incident?”

Heat rises in my cheeks. “It was nothing, Mom. Just some girls being mean.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Professor Benson says gently. “And it won’t be tolerated. Jolie, you have every right to feel safe at school.”

After he leaves, Mom corners me in the kitchen. “What happened today that you didn’t tell me about?”

I reluctantly explain about Cerise and the water incident, watching Mom’s face grow increasingly grim.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” she says when I finish. “You’re drawing attention. The wrong kind of attention.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I protest. “I’m trying to be invisible.”

“Then try harder,” she says sharply. “Because if these girls are targeting you now, it means someone important has noticed you. And we both know that never ends well.”

11

Emmie

The weekend brings adistinct energy to the estate, a sense of anticipation that makes even the air feel charged. I notice it first in the increased activity around the manor house. The catering vans coming and going, staff polishing windows that already gleam, and the sound of expensive cars arriving.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask Mom as we watch another delivery truck stop on the circular drive.

“There’s a party tonight,” she says, not looking up from her ironing. “Romeo’s sister won some figure skating competition. Nationals, I think. The whole family’s gathering to celebrate.”

I settle onto my window seat while watching the preparations continue outside.

By evening, the manor house is ablaze with lights, every window glowing warmly against the darkening sky. Cars fill the circular drive and overflow onto the lawn. Music drifts across the grounds, sophisticated and classical, nothing like the raucous parties I glimpsed at Romeo’s party.

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