Page 116 of Knot So Lucky
Floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, aware of movement and sound but unable to engage with either.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought surfaces with crystalline certainty:
Cale's going to find me.
The confidence is absurd. Illogical. Based on nothing except gut feeling and the strange bond we've developed through months of toxic push-and-pull.
But I know it.
Know in my soul that Cale Hart would burn the world down to find me. Would tear apart reality itself if that's what it took. Would never,everstop looking until I was safe.
Our rivalry and hot-and-cold relationship aside, some fundamental part of my biology recognizes that this Alpha would go to war for me.
The thought brings comfort that shouldn't be possible given the circumstances.
As if summoning him through sheer force of will, I catch a scent.
Burnt cedar and dark coffee and raw amber—so strong and overwhelming that it cuts through every other stimulus like a knife through butter.
Cale.
The relief is immediate and all-consuming.
I barely manage to open my eyes, struggling against eyelids that don't want to cooperate. My vision is so blurred that everything's just shapes and colors bleeding together, but there's one shape I'd recognize anywhere.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving with purpose and barely controlled violence.
Grey eyes lock onto mine, and even through the blur I can see the fear and fury and relief warring in his expression.
He's cradling my face in his hands—calloused palms rough against my fevered skin, thumbs stroking along my cheekbones with a gentleness that contradicts the rage pouring off him in waves.
Then he has me in his arms.
Lifting me like I weigh nothing, holding me against his chest with the kind of possessive certainty that makes my Omega instincts sing despite the circumstances.
I sigh in relief, feeling safe for the first time since I woke up in this nightmare.
Safe. Protected. Home.
His scent surrounds me completely, and my body responds on instinct—relaxing into his hold, nuzzling closer to his neck where the scent is strongest, making small sounds of contentment that I have no control over.
I try to mutter his name but my throat doesn't cooperate, producing only a croak that barely qualifies as sound.
"Shhh." His voice is rough, strained with emotion he's trying to contain. "I've got you. You're safe now."
One of his hands moves to support my head, fingers threading through my short hair in soothing strokes. The other arm locks around my waist, holding me against him like he's afraid I'll disappear if he loosens his grip even slightly.
I whimper—high and needy and utterly pathetic—trying to communicate that I'm so happy he's here, that I knew he'd come, that I feel safe now despite everything being so wrong with my body.
"You're going to be okay," Cale whispers, lips brushing against my temple. "Just try to rest. We've got you."
We.
Not just Cale, then.
I'm floating now, my whole body so hot that I feel like I'm burning from the inside out. But being in Cale's arms makes it somehow bearable, his presence providing an anchor when everything else feels untethered.
Other voices filter through the haze, and I try to focus on them but my brain isn't processing language properly anymore.
