Page 44 of Knot As It Seems

I’m desperate to be looped into the pack chat, to know who’s coordinating what areas to look for her, but Monet won’t even look at me, let alone want me to have anything to do with Fable right now.

I don’t deserve to be unconscious while she’s out there, scared, alone, injured, but the lull of the ambulance and the steady beeping of machines around me combined with whatever pain killers I’m being given, makes it pretty hard to resist. I’ll…fix this when I wake up. Somehow.

Twenty-One

I have never been more thankful in my entire life that I live so close to a vampire colony.

While Trash Haven itself doesn’t boast any other vampires, my family chose it because of its proximity to Stonebrook, where all the vampire government and resources are located. I guess it’s making more sense why there were so many at Clement’s show.

The fact that we’re here though is great because when I evaded the slow, dumb alpha and ran, and then didn’tstoprunning, I found myself in the middle of a whole mess of people that were able to protect me.

I’m sure I traumatized every child I came across, running with a bloody cheek, a black eye, one shoe, and a tattered shirt, my weak body on the edge of collapse. The important thing is I’m away from my sister’s friends, and I’m away from Moon, who’s betrayal I’m choosing to deal with later. One thing at a time.

“Oh my gods, what happened to you? Greg! Get over here,we need help!”

“Th-thank you,” I mutter before collapsing against the beta vampire who’s giving off serious mom energy with her clearly adopted children (pretty sure they’re some sort of shifter).

All the adrenaline falls off at once, leaving me boneless and exhausted, and then her husband is there to lift me up and carry me the couple of blocks to the omega resource center, who is about to have a field day with me, I’m sure. And only partly because I’m completely unregistered.

I fade in and out of consciousness while I’m carried, only really coming to when I’m laid down on a crinkly paper covered bed in a cold room that reeks of antiseptic and the chemical overtones of scent blockers.

I just want to curl in a ball and cry, because what do you mean I was finally finding a place to be happy and then I was traded away like a rare toy?

I’m not even surprised that Winslow had set something up as horrific as an arranged mating for me. Knowing her, it was likely payment to who I’m pretty sure was her dealers. They must have supplied her with all the experimental drugs she was always using to combat the pain and illness that came with the territory of stealing and using my blood.

If she’d been successful, she’d have given me to them, like a thank you card. Or a plate of cookies.

I feel so fucking alone, sohopelesslyalone, that everything just seems pointless. What has all of this struggle been for, to be taken out of that fucking hole of a room that I want to raze to the ground now, and put in a home thatslowly warmed to me, with alphas that wanted me, to now this? Did all of them know what Moon was really up to? I really want to say no, that none of my bonded alphas would ever mistreat me in such a way, but they never believed Moon was capable of this either, so who knows?

All I know is that right now, in this instant, crying is about all I can handle. It comes out jagged and broken, my whole chest heaving as the bonds I’ve built in my chest flare, my alphas trying to reach me, but I’m too distressed to accept anything from them. If I can’t have anything good, I don’t even want the bonds.

I don’t care how earnest the alphas were, how good they made their words when they convinced me I was finallyhome, because now nothing feels like it will ever be right again.

There’s no way to recover from this. No way can I simply walk back through the door of their perfect home and laugh it all off as some misunderstanding.

Moon went into this outing wide awake,knowinghe was handing me over to a pack he’d never met in person, assuming it wasmethat was lying about my relationship with them. That’s how little he thought of me.

My absolute heartbreak turns to anger in a hot flash, incinerating me from the inside out. I don’t want anybody to have access to me right now.

Not even caring about the consequences, I find those bonds again, the ones I’d been so excited to finally experience, and shred them. I know I can’t get rid of them fully, but I can lessen their potency. I may not have autonomy in any other aspect of my life, but I can decide to do this.

I rake metaphysical fingernails inside my chest sharply asI scratch and bite at the bonds until they’re dull and only lightly throbbing in the background and I feel hollow. Then I sink into that hollowness, and I sit with my hot tears on my face, washing away the dirt and the blood and the memories of this afternoon.

There are voices around me, trying to decide what to do with me, perplexed that they have a purebred omega that’s not even in their system, asking me who to contact, but I can’t say their names. I need to stay dulled.

Maybe I fight against them too hard when they talk about taking a blood sample because I’m definitely sedated after that.

When I wake again, it’s morning, and I’m in a soft room with soft scents and no harsh colors, only creams and ivories and no offensive textures. The bed is bigger than I need with far too many pillows, but the room still reads as medical, so I’m confused. I have fuzzy memories from doctor’s visits as a child, before my parents got too busy to parent me. They were always impersonal, uncomfortable, easy to sanitize. This one…this one feels like somewhere I can stay and just pretend like I’m starting over.

“Knock, knock.”

I recoil automatically, but the beta nurse is the farthest thing from threatening I’ve ever seen, and she has soup. In my experience, no one that brings soup ever means you harm.

“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d find you awake this time.”

My voice is scratchy when I try to use it. “This time?”

She places the tray down on a cute little bedside table and sits on the edge of my bed as if she’s a concerned friend,not a medical professional being paid to see to my wellbeing.