Page 91 of Knot Your Romeo

"She's dreaming," he reports at one point, his hand resting gently on her forehead. "Nothing coherent, but I can feel her consciousness stirring."

It's as we begin our descent toward home that her eyes finally flutter open. For a moment she looks confused, disoriented, her gaze moving between the three of us with growing wonder. Thenunderstanding hits, and she bursts into tears. Not from fear or pain, but with overwhelming relief.

"You came for me," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the sedatives. "You actually came."

"Of course we came," I tell her, taking her hand in both of mine. "We choose you, baby girl. We'll always choose you."

Eli moves to her other side, stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. "You're our Omega. Our pack mate. Did you really think we'd leave you with him?"

"But the risk," she protests weakly. "The danger. Blake could have killed you all."

"He could have tried," Jude says with quiet conviction, his hand finding hers. "But we're stronger together than he ever understood. And you're worth any risk."

She looks between the three of us—her pack, her family, her chosen mates—and something settles in her expression. The fear and uncertainty that's haunted her for months finally gives way to absolute trust.

"I love you," she says simply. "All of you. So much."

"We love you too," I reply, speaking for all of us. "And we're letting no one take you away again."

"Is he—"

"He's dead, Emmie. You're safe."

As the lights of home appear below us, something shifts in the fundamental bonds that hold our pack together. Through violence and the test of separation that pushed us to our absolute limits, we've emerged stronger than ever.

34

Emmie

Two weeks after the rescue

I pause outside theuniversity's main lecture hall, smoothing down the soft cashmere sweater Eli insisted on buying me last week. It's the first time I've been back to campus since Blake took me, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. But it's a different kind of nervousness than I used to feel—not the anxiety of someone trying to hide, but the anticipation of someone ready to reclaim her space.

"You sure you don't want one of us to come with you?" Beck had asked this morning over breakfast, his protective instincts clearly warring with his respect for my independence.

"I need to do this alone," I'd told him, and I'd meant it. This isn't about having backup or proving anything to anyone else. This is about proving something to myself.

The hallway buzzes with the familiar energy of students between classes—conversations about assignments, weekend plans, relationship drama. Normal university life continues exactly as it always has, completely unaware that one of their classmates recently survived a kidnapping and helped orchestrate the death of her abuser.

I spotted Cerise immediately. She's holding court near the coffee cart, surrounded by her usual circle of admirers, her perfectly styled blonde hair catching the light. She's wearing designer jeans and a top that probably costs more than most students' monthly rent, radiating the casual privilege that used to intimidate me.

Now it just looks...hollow.

"Emmie?" One of her followers notices me first, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and fake concern that spreads through social groups like wildfire. "Oh my God, where have you been? There were rumors that you'd dropped out."

The conversation around Cerise stops as heads turn in my direction. I can see the calculation in her eyes as she takes in my appearance—the expensive clothes, the confident posture, the way I'm no longer trying to make myself invisible.

"I've been dealing with some family issues," I say smoothly, moving closer to their little circle. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Family issues," Cerise repeats, her tone suggesting she doesn't quite believe me. "How mysterious. I suppose Professor Silver was understanding about your extended absence?"

There it is—the subtle dig, the implication that my relationship with Jude might have influenced my academic standing. The old me would have blushed, stammered, maybe even apologized for something I hadn't done wrong. The new me just smiles.

"Actually, Professor Silver has been incredibly supportive," I say, letting my voice carry just far enough for the gathering crowd to hear. "All of my professors have been. It's amazing how accommodating the university can be when you're honest about your circumstances."

"I'm sure they have been," Cerise says with a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Some people just seem to have all the luck with...understanding authority figures."

The implication tastes like poison, and I can see several students exchanging glances. This is the moment—the choice between letting her continue her subtle campaign of character assassination or finally standing up for myself. I choose to stand up.

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