Page 26 of Knot Their Safe Haven
The true irony of it all…
I was halfway out the door when I spotted them—a stack of papers that hadn't been there last night. My eyes rolled automatically, already knowing what I'd find.
More threats.
Another onslaught of attempts at intimidation from Alphas who thought they could break me with fear.
But the photograph that slipped from between the pages made me freeze.
Malcolm.
Clear as day despite the grainy quality, his face caught in profile as he entered my apartment door.
The timestamp showed 2:26 AM—prime fucking hours, apparently. Someone had been watching…which meant someone knew.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, harsh and bitter.
I lifted the photo, studying Malcolm's face—the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched at his sides like he was fighting himself even as he crossed my threshold.
"What are you going to do?" I asked the empty apartment, my voice dripping sarcasm. "Expose us? Please fucking do."
The laughter came harder now, edged with something that might have been hysteria or might have been exhaustion.
I could already see the headlines:'Aging Omega Rebel Secretly Fucking Respected Doctor Alpha.'
The scandal of it all.
The mockery that would follow.
"Everyone will mock me as the old omega hen who couldn't dare score Dr. Malcolm with all his credentials and awards." The words tasted like poison on my tongue, but I forced them out anyway, needing to voice the fear that lived in my bones. "Past my prime, taking whatever scraps I can get in the darkness."
The sadness that welled up was expected, but the depth of it still surprised me.
This was my reality—pushing forty, unclaimed, so desperate for touch that I'd created this elaborate charade where I could pretend it wasn't my choice.
Where I could have what I needed without admitting I needed it.
I tucked the photograph into my purse with the rest of the threats. Evidence for my security team to analyze, though we all knew nothing would come of it. These cowards never followed through, too afraid of what I might do in retaliation.
They didn't understand that they couldn't break something already broken.
The drive to the meeting was a blur of traffic and self-loathing. I touched up my makeup at red lights, practiced my confident smile in the rearview mirror, because it was time forme to portray the “Rebel Queen’ they’ve gotten so used to than this insecure troubled Omega on a biological ticking clock.
By the time I arrived at the conference center, I was armored in designer clothing and professional competence.
"Ms. Morclair!" The security team's relief was palpable as I strode through the doors. "We were worried the traffic?—"
"Was absolutely horrific," I confirmed smoothly, signing the late arrival log with a flourish. "I trust Marina updated everyone?"
"Of course, ma'am. They're in Conference Room B."
I made my entrance with practiced confidence, apologizing for the delay while commanding the room's attention. The various Omega leaders and Alpha allies around the table shifted as I took my seat, and I catalogued each reaction—who looked annoyed by my tardiness, who seemed relieved by my presence, and who studied me a little too closely.
"Now then," I said, pulling out my tablet with steady hands that betrayed nothing of the morning's chaos. "Where were we on the medical facility specifications?"
The meeting droned on for two hours.
Policy updates, building codes, security protocols—all the mundane details that went into changing the world one safe house at a time. I contributed when needed, my mind split between the discussion and the photograph burning a hole in my purse.
