Page 132 of Knot Their Safe Haven
Malcolm's face has gone white, his body swaying like his knees might give out. But the zip-ties keep him upright, keep him facing the consequences of actions he thought would remain secret.
"The bombing," Damon continues where his brother left off, "was arranged when Dr. Hayes realized his crimes were being discovered. Not by law enforcement, but by someone much closer."
He gestures to Knox, still half-restrained, confusion replacing desperation on his weathered features.
"Knox Williams discovered the surveillance six weeks ago." Another click, and the screen shows Knox in Malcolm's office, rage transforming his usually controlled features. "Security footage from the medical facility shows Mr. Williams confronting Dr. Hayes privately. The argument was heated but ended with Knox agreeing to let Malcolm confess himself rather than expose him immediately."
"An act of mercy," Alessandro adds, "that Dr. Hayes repaid by framing him for attempted murder."
The truth settles over the room like ash from a volcanic eruption—soft, suffocating, transforming everything it touches.
"The messages from Knox's phone were sent using cloned SIM technology while Knox was demonstrably elsewhere—teaching a self-defense class with forty witnesses. The financial transfers were made using routing numbers obtained during joint business ventures, authorized signatures forged using medical prescription authorities."
Each revelation lands like another nail in Malcolm's coffin. His midnight eyes, usually so calculating, have gone blank with the realization that every contingency has been anticipated, every escape route blocked.
"As for Princess Adyani," Alexis takes over again, her voice gentling slightly, "her involvement was both more and less than it appears."
Adyani's chin rises higher, tears still falling but some strength returning to her posture.
"The roses she sent weekly contained traces of a mild sedative compound. Not enough to cause immediate harm, but combined with the other substances in Ms. Morclair's system, they contributed to her declining health." The screen shows chemical analysis, molecular structures that mean nothing to most but everything to those who understand. "However, the princess was unaware of this contamination. The roses were intercepted during international shipping, doctored by the same individual Dr. Hayes paid for the wine contamination."
"The princess's financial contributions to extremist groups were real," Alessandro adds, "but made under duress. Blackmail regarding her transition, threats to expose medical records that would destroy her standing in international circles. She chose to protect herself rather than warn Ms. Morclair of the danger."
"A choice," I finally speak, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest, "that nearly cost me everything."
The officers shift, awaiting direction. The crowd holds its breath. The cameras continue their eternal documentation.
"The complete truth," I say, looking directly at Knox, at Malcolm, at Adyani in turn, "is that only one of you actively tried to kill me."
My hand rises again, this time pointing with precision that brooks no argument.
"Dr. Malcolm Hayes, you're under arrest for attempted murder, surveillance without consent, theft, conspiracy, and violations of medical ethics that would horrify Hippocrates himself."
The officers move instantly, completing Knox's release while securing Malcolm with efficiency that suggests they're glad to have clear direction. Malcolm doesn't fight—there's nowhere to go, no argument to make. The evidence is overwhelming, incontrovertible, displayed for the world to witness.
"Princess Adyani," I continue, my voice softer but no less firm, "you're under arrest for accessory to attempted murder through willful negligence and failure to report. Your diplomatic immunity won't protect you from consequences of choosing silence over saving a life."
She nods once, regally, accepting the restraints like they're ceremonial jewelry. Even now, even broken, she maintains that bearing that once commanded kingdoms.
Knox stands free but frozen, his grey eyes searching mine for something—forgiveness, understanding, connection to what we once were.
"Knox," I say quietly, though the microphones ensure everyone hears, "the only thing you're guilty of is the same cowardice you've displayed for twenty years. You discovered a crime and chose to handle it privately instead of protecting me immediately. You gave a predator time to destroy evidence, to frame you, to nearly kill me."
His shoulders slump, the weight of that truth heavier than any accusation.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and the microphones catch that too. "I thought I was protecting you. Thought if I gave Malcolm time to come clean, it would minimize the scandal. I didn't realize—I'm so fucking sorry, Velvet."
"I know." The words come easier than expected. "But sorry doesn't resurrect the dead. And that's what I would be if not for them."
I turn to my pack, feeling their strength flow into me through proximity alone. Alessandro's hand remains steady on my back. The twins create a wall of protection without touching. Alexis watches everything, cataloguing responses, ready to intervene if needed.
"The bomb that nearly killed me did one thing right," I address the room but keep my eyes on my pack. "It showed me who would fight for me versus who would debate my worth while I died. These four didn't know me, had no obligation to me, yet they signed papers that saved my life. They claimed me when claiming me was dangerous, when the media would crucify them, when association with me could have destroyed everything they've built."
I turn back to the audience, to the cameras, to the future watching this moment.
"I stand here today not as a victim but as a survivor. Not as someone's dirty secret but as the proudly claimed omega of the Noctuary Pack. We formalized our bonds this morning in a ceremony that was everything my previous relationships never were—public, proud, and legally binding."
The projection screen shifts one final time, displaying documentation that makes several legal experts in the audience gasp. Pack registration with all five signatures. Medical power of attorney. Financial integration that would take teams of lawyersyears to untangle. Everything stamped with today's date and the kind of official seals that make bureaucrats weep with envy.
