Page 8 of Knot Your Romeo

My phone buzzes with a text.

Mom: Cook is lovely. Home soon. Heat up the soup Mrs. R left for us.

I’m grateful for the domestic task, something normal to focus on instead of the growing unease in my chest. As I heat our simple dinner, I try to convince myself that in a few days it will be better. Starting college will be a distraction where I can blend in and be normal and forget about Alpha men with expensive suits and possessive eyes. But as I ladle soup into bowls, I can’t shake the memory of Beck’s hands on my skin, his voice in my ear—and the payment he left on the table.

When Mom returns, she’s practically glowing with relief, and her talk is full of optimism. She chatters about the cook, the beautiful kitchen, the reasonable expectations.

“This is our fresh start, Emmie,” Mom says as we finish dinner.

I smile and nod and try to match her enthusiasm.

“I can feel it. Everything is going to be different now.”

I want to believe her. I need to believe her. But when I look out of the window again, I can’t shake off the feeling that our troubles are just beginning.

Mom comes up behind me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, and looks to the same place I am. “We’re safe now. Blake will never find us here.”

“I hope so.” I lean into her embrace, wanting desperately to believe her. But I’ve seen the darkness in Alphas’ eyes when they think they’ve caught my scent. The hunger. The possession. Just like Beck did. And I let him do things to me I shouldn’t have.

“This time, I am not believing anyone but you.” The words are the right ones, but I’m not so sure about Mom anymore. She gave up her daughters for that man. Only now, when she has one daughter left, has she seen the light? But now isn’t the time to argue about that.

“Get some sleep,” Mom says, kissing my temple. “Tomorrow is the start of your new life. Your first day of normal.”

Normal.

As if such a thing exists for an Omega like me.

4

Emmie

I stand beside thecottage door, my new student ID clutched in one hand and my worn backpack slung over my shoulder. I’m waiting for Mom to finish her conversation with Mrs. Reynolds. We’ve been here for five days now, but this is my first day of college, my first day out of the cottage, and already my stomach is in knots.

Mom hurries over, a smile plastered on her face. “Mrs. Reynolds said Mr. Sampson will take you to the campus.”

“What? No, I can walk—“

Before I can protest further, a sleek black Range Rover rolls to a stop in front of us. The driver’s window lowers, revealing a man in his mid-fifties with fair hair lined with gray and deep brown eyes. When he smiles, I feel relaxed.

“Good morning, Ms. Masters,” he calls to Mom, his voice deep but rattles slightly. “I thought your daughter might appreciate alift on her first day. She’ll have a lot to do before she even gets into a classroom.”

Mom gives me a gentle push and I approach the vehicle cautiously and Mom replies, “Thank you, Mr. Sampson. That’s very kind of you. Jolie—“

But I interrupt her, “I can walk. It’s not that far.”

“Nonsense,” he says with a gentle smile. “It’s nearly four miles, and you’ll want to save your energy for when you’re at school. Besides, I have another passenger going in the same direction.”

As if summoned by his words, the rear door opens. I approach the vehicle, every instinct screams at me to not get inside. Though I’m not sure why. Mr. Sampson is clearly a Beta, but when I step to the rear door, I’m faced with the most gorgeous boy and he is about my age.

When he looks up, his eyes lock with mine, and the world stops spinning. I don’t react to scents but there is something wild about him that makes my inner Omega practically purr. And despite the medication I take to ward off moments like this, my body reacts as warmth floods my core and goosebumps pop all over my arms.

He can’t be a scent match. The thought crashes through my mind before I can stop it. I don’t have a real scent, so I know it can’t be that.

“Are you getting in or what?” he grunts, his tone annoyed.

He doesn’t even react to me. But I suppose that’s what makes me so different. My mate will feel me, not smell me. But it doesn’t stop me from applying a layer of a false scent just to be safe.

I’ve dressed as plainly as possible—faded jeans, an oversized gray hoodie, and sneakers that have seen better days. My near-black hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and I’m not wearing makeup. The goal is to blend in, to be forgettable, to survive my first day with no one noticing I exist.

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