Page 33 of Knot My MC
They’re familiar, and it takes my brain a moment to catch up with what my heart already knew.
The guys.
Crow’s jet black hair is slicked back and longer than it was the last time I saw him. He’s bigger too. He was always strong, but he’s filled out. Crow is more of a big guy than a solid cut wall of muscle. His emerald eyes shoot through me, reminding me of every time he looked at me and gave me that dimpled smile of his when we were just kids.
I’ve never met an omega like you, Kiki.
Are you down to ride or not, Kiki?
I struggle to breathe through the years of memories suddenly bombarding my brain. As Kiren’s daughter, hanging out with the Hounds was treason in the highest regard. None of that mattered back then. When the four of us were together, we weren’t kids from two rival MCs. We were a unit.
A pack.
The Hell Hounds vest Crow’s wearing is just as I remember it, black and slightly faded from being worn so much. There’s a small patch on the right side, one that can only be worn by someone on the council.
How the hell did he get on the council?
They’d barely been patched in the last I saw them.
Right now, that’s not important. Crow’s not alone.
Jag sits next to him with his arms crossed. He’s filled out too, not quite as large as Crow—cut more like a fighter than a bear. Jag’s blond hair is just above his shoulders. He’s different too. None of that bothers me as much as the way his eyes have changed. From here, I can still tell they’re that same crystal blue, but there’s a darkness in them that wasn’t there before. That same small patch that denotes him as a council member is on his vest too.
The alpha next to Jag shifts in his seat. Knox.
The one who was ready to beat Axel’s ass the same night they called the cops on me. Knox runs his palm over the short beard peppering his jaw, studying me with too keen an interest in those rich brown irises. His hair is cut in a fade, a hell of a lot shorter than it used to be. Of all the guys, Knox is the one who hurt me the most. He kissed and then betrayed me.
Is it possible they came to save me?
No. That’s stupid. I mentally chastise myself for being naive. The only thing those alphas want is to watch me hurt.
“Two-thousand dollars,” Reagan says loudly enough to interrupt my thoughts.
I pull my gaze from the guys, watching Reagan go toe to toe with Eduardo about the rules of bidding. The only omegas who have money to throw around like that are high pack. While Reagan may not be throwing out millions, no low pack omega would toss aside two grand.
“Fine, two-thousand then.” Eduardo holds his hand out and there’s a bid from an alpha in the next second.
Reagan doesn’t speak up again. So she’s not rich, but she’s not dirt poor. The auction for Whitney finishes at a whopping twelve-thousand, and I can’t help but feel insulted. She’s far prettier than me, and if that’s all she’s worth, I’ll be lucky to go for ten grand. I’m not saying I’m ugly, it’s just Whitney has a classic sort of beauty whereas I’m a little rough around the edges, especially after the night I spent tossing and turning in Axel’s room. My V-neck t-shirt and blue jeans have nothing on that pretty dress she’s wearing.
The collective weight of their gazes drills into my skull, but I grind my teeth together and refuse to look at them. Their focus tugs at something inside of me. Fondness. Desire. A bead of sweat slips down my spine.
Is this some sort of last hurrah? A final way to get at Kiren’s daughter before she’s sold off?
I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t hurt. I’d be lying if I said my mind didn’t try to convince me that perhaps they’re really here to help me. I thought I destroyed the part of me that cared for them. I didn’t think seeing them again would stir these feelings. Three years ago I cried when they stopped talking to me, but I hadn’t understood how much they really meant to me until tonight. Seeing them again reopens that wound, but I don’t have it in me to mourn the loss of them too.
There’s only so much hurt I can handle, and tonight I’m maxed out. If they came here to see me cry, they can get fucked.
CHAPTERELEVEN
JAG
This place makes my stomach churn with unease. The way the alphas act—like they’ve never been laid—is disgusting. The only redeeming part about being here is knowing we’ll be saving Kiki from ending up with some shit bag like Curtis. He runs a cheap strip club and is known for being a creepy prick. Staring at him now, I know without a doubt he’s into sketchy shit. The omega he won looks less than thrilled. Can’t say I blame her. Aside from noting who Curtis bid on, my attention is focused on Kiki. She didn’t notice us right away, but when she did, man, I’ve never seen a look so lethal. She’s not happy we’re here. We’re not happy she’s here.
We’re one big unhappy family.
Her hair is a little longer than it was the last time I checked up on her, and a pretty flower tattoo covers the top part of one of her arms, but her eyes are still that aquamarine blue I remember. They used to be warm and inviting when she looked at me. Now they’re cold, almost like a stranger has taken the place of the girl I used to know. But she’s not a kid anymore. She’s grown and so are we. I can’t find a trace of sadness on her face. She’s still strong as hell. I didn’t expect to find her weeping like some of the other omegas, but I did anticipate some sort of distress. From all the way in the back of the room, the only thing I get from Kiki is a strongfuck offvibe.
Her gaze flicks to our group again, and when she zeroes in on me, I tip my head ever so slightly. The movement could be misconstrued as a result of me fidgeting if anyone were paying attention. I don’t want to give any of these alphas a reason to take an interest in her any more than they already have. The bidding is higher than it’s ever been. Though, part of that has to do with the mouthy omega at the end of the lineup.
