Page 3 of Knot Their Safe Haven
My biggest rebellion was never against society.
It was against my own heart.
The blade moves?—
NOTE FROM AUTHOR
This book does have F/F & MMFFM instances.
Please don’t read if you’re not interested in a
female Alpha/transgender Alpha in the harem.
— Cin
THE WEIGHT OF WATCHING THEM BREAK
~VELVET~
The gym smells of leather and determination at 5:47 AM, that particular cocktail of sweat and ambition that seeps into the walls after years of bodies pushing past their limits. I know this scent intimately—have breathed it in for twenty years, watching Knox build his empire one barbell at a time.
And watching him pretend he doesn't want to claim me every single morning we do this dance.
My wine-red dress hugs curves that shouldn't still turn heads at thirty-nine, but money and good genetics are a powerful combination. The Louboutins click against the polished floor, each step echoing in the empty hallways. Knox always gives me early access, says it's for the "safety of the Omegas," but we both know better.
He likes having me here. Likes the anticipation of seeing me before the masses arrive.
The sound reaches me first—flesh meeting leather in a rhythm that speaks of rage barely contained. I know that pattern, have heard it too many times from too many broken Omegas who've found their way to my Haven.
But this one... this one hurts differently.
Astraea.
I pause at the doorway to the Omega section, taking in the scene before me. Silver hair plastered to pale skin, every muscle in her compact frame coiled with tension as she destroys the punching bag. She's been here at least forty-five minutes based on the pool of sweat beneath her feet. The girl always shows up early to avoid the Alpha crowds, but this is excessive even for her.
Mother issues. Always mother issues with this one.
The way she moves—controlled violence barely leashed—reminds me of myself at nineteen. Except I had foster families to rage against, not blood parents who should have loved me better.
"Should I ask who pissed you off?"
She's dripping, breath coming in controlled gasps despite the exhaustion written across her face. Even now, even furious, she takes precautions. Training in the Omega section where she belongs according to society's rules, making sure the Beta janitors will have an easy cleanup.
Always so considerate. Always thinking of everyone except herself.
The smile that crosses her face when she recognizes me makes something warm bloom in my chest—that dangerous maternal instinct I've been fighting since she walked into my Haven two years ago, barely seventeen and trying so hard to be strong.
"You already know," she finally answers, and I can't help but smile back.
"Mama Issues."
"When is it not Mama Issues?" Her laugh is bitter, too old for nineteen. "It honestly feels pathetic. Being nineteen and dealing with issues with your parent wanting to financially benefit fromyou versus what I'm sure so many other newly young adult Omegas deal with."
I want to tell her it's not pathetic. That trauma doesn't discriminate based on age or circumstance. That her mother's emotional vampirism is just as damaging as physical abuse. But I know she needs to voice this first, needs to purge the poison before I can offer the antidote.
She talks about her mother's greed, about Alphas who walked away, about the weight of being unwanted. Every word cuts because I see myself in her—not the specifics, but the shape of the wound. That fundamental betrayal when the people who should protect you become the ones you need protection from.
"It's getting worse, huh?"
