Page 92 of Knot Your Romeo

"You know, Cerise," I say, my voice clear and steady, "I've been thinking about something you said about how I should be careful not to embarrass myself by reaching too high."

Her expression shifts slightly, wariness creeping in around the edges of her practiced smile. "I don't recall—"

"You told me that someone like me—" I emphasize the phrase, "—could never really fit into their world. That I was fooling myself if I thought they actually cared about me."

The circle of students has grown larger now, drawn by the unmistakable tension crackling between us. Several people have their phones out, probably hoping to capture whatever drama is about to unfold.

"I'm sure I was just looking out for you," Cerise says carefully. "Sometimes an outside perspective can be helpful."

"You're right," I say, and I can see her relaxing slightly, thinking she's won. "An outside perspective can be helpful. So let me share mine."

I take a step closer, and she instinctively steps back.

"My perspective is that you're a deeply insecure person who tears down other women because you can't stand the thoughtthat they might achieve something you can't." My voice remains perfectly calm, conversational even. "You saw me finding happiness with people who genuinely care about me, and it threatened you because you've never experienced anything real in your life."

Cerise's face flushes red. "How dare you—"

"I'm not finished," I continue, my Omega nature finally finding its voice—not submissive, but fierce in protection of what matters to me. "You tried to make me doubt myself, doubt them, doubt everything good that was happening to me. And for a while, it worked. I let your poison get into my head because I believed you when you said I wasn't good enough."

The crowd around us has gone completely silent now, everyone straining to hear every word. "But here's what I've learned," I say, my voice growing stronger with each word. "The only person's opinion that matters is my own. And I know who I am now. I know what I'm worth. I know I deserve love and respect and happiness, regardless of what anyone else thinks about it."

Cerise opens her mouth to respond, but I hold up a hand. "I'm also done pretending that your cruelty is somehow normal or acceptable. You don't get to tear people down just because you're unhappy with your own life. You don't get to make other women feel small just to make yourself feel big."

I can see tears of rage gathering in her eyes, her carefully constructed facade cracking under the pressure of being called out publicly.

"So here's what's going to happen," I continue, my voice taking on a quiet authority I've learned from watching Beck in action. "You're going to stop spreading rumors about me and my relationships. You're going to stop making snide comments and passive-aggressive digs. You're going to treat me with the basic respect that one human being owes another."

"And if I don't?" she snaps, her mask finally slipping completely.

I smile—not the nervous, apologetic smile I used to hide behind, but something with real teeth. "Then you'll find out exactly what kind of resources someone in my position has access to," I breathe. "Trust me, Cerise. You really don't want to find out."

It's not an empty threat. Beck's connections, Eli's strength, even Jude's academic standing—they all come with a certain amount of influence. But more than that, I'm not the scared, isolated girl I was when I got here. I have a pack now, people who would move heaven and earth to protect me.

Cerise seems to understand this, because the fight goes out of her all at once. She looks around at the crowd of students watching our confrontation, many of whom are nodding in approval at my words, and I can see her calculating the social cost of continuing this war.

"Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "Whatever. I have better things to do than worry about your...situation."

"I'm sure you do," I agree pleasantly. "I hope you find them fulfilling."

She turns and stalks away, her little circle of followers trailing behind her like uncertain satellites. The crowd begins to disperse, several students offering me supportive smiles or thumbs up as they head to their next classes.

I stand there for a moment, feeling the adrenaline slowly drain from my system.

I did it. I actually stood up for myself, claimed my space, and refused to be diminished by someone else's insecurity.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jude:How did it go?

I type back quickly:Better than expected. Heading to your office now. But you know we no longer have to text.

His response is immediate:Can't wait to hear everything. Proud of you. And I think I look constipated when I speak telepathically.

I laugh out loud as I make my way across campus toward the faculty building.

I catch my reflection in a window and barely recognize the woman looking back at me. Confident posture, head held high, eyes bright with self-assurance. This is who I was always meant to be. This is who I am when I'm not hiding, not apologizing for taking up space, not letting other people's fears define my worth. This is who I am when I'm loved and supported and valued for exactly who I am. I push open the door to Jude's building, ready to share my victory with the man who helped me find my voice in the first place.

Ready to continue building a life where I never have to make myself small again.

Ready to be as magnificent as my pack believes me to be.

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