Page 101 of Knot Her Beta

“I’ll get them,” Jared says, half-rising.

“I’ve got it,” she snaps before she catches herself, her jaw working. “Sit. Enjoy your wine.”

She shuffles to the kitchen, and I track her progress. Her shoulders are tight beneath the flannel, the muscles in her neck corded, and when she lifts the lid off the cake dome, her entire arm trembles from wrist to elbow.

I push back my chair, but stay seated, watching my Alpha struggle.

Emily returns with the cake and sets the plate on the table, her knuckles white around the edges. Her breath comes in short bursts, and when she raises her head, her gray eyes find mine across the table, her guard slipping just enough for me to see it.

She knows. It’s been building for hours, and she’s been fighting it. Denying it. Doing what Emily Wilson always does, carrying the load alone until her arms give out.

The bond pulses between us, and in that shared moment, everything we’ve been hoping for collapses.

Emily’s shoulders shake, a tremor she can’t control, and her face crumples. She doesn’t make a noise as she folds inward, her forehead dropping toward the table, one hand coming up to cover her eyes as if she’s ashamed of the tears.

Jared is out of his chair before the first tear hits the tablecloth. He crosses to her in two strides, his hand finding the back of her neck, over his bonding Mark.

“Hey. Em. It’s okay,” he soothes. “We don’t have to solve the housing thing tonight. Nothing’s decided.”

She shakes her head, her palms pressed into her eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jared.”

“For what? Talking about office space? Em, come on.” He crouches beside her chair, his hand still on her neck. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out. You and me. We always do.”

She lowers her hands, tears tracking down her flushed cheeks, and she turns to him, the hurt and regret so raw it squeezes my heart to witness it. “I wanted to give you a baby.”

Jared goes very still, his hand still on her neck. “You’re more than two weeks late, so there’s a good chance. We can confirm it at next week’s appointment.”

I push back from the table. “Jared.”

He turns to me with stubborn, desperate hope, and the words stick in my throat.

I force them out anyway. “Emily isn’t pregnant.”

“What are you talking about?” Jared’s brow furrows. “She’s late. We’ve been tracking it.”

“I know.” As I step around the table, the pheromones hit me harder. “But she’s not pregnant, Jared. She’s going into Rut.”

For three long seconds, he stares at me as if waiting for the punchline. Then his bottom lip trembles before he firms it, acceptance dashing away the hope. He can’t sense the pheromones flooding the room, but he trusts that what I’m telling him is true.

“Rut,” he repeats, the word flat.

Grady shakes his head. “What’s happening? I don’t understand.”

“Female Alphas don’t go into Rut when they’re pregnant,” I explain. “The hormonal pathways are mutually exclusive. If she’s cycling into Rut, she can’t be carrying. The body doesn’t do both.”

A broken sound escapes Emily, and she clutches at her sternum as if she can keep the sobs from breaking free.

“It’s okay, Em.” Jared’s hand moves from her neck to her shoulder, his grip tightening. “We’ll get through this.”

We’ve been preparing for a pregnancy, for morning sickness and prenatal appointments and the careful, tender work of growing a life. Instead, we’re facing an Alpha’s Rut. Exhausting. All-consuming. A biological reset that will leave Emily drained and raw on the other side.

Jared gathers her into his arms and rocks her, his hand stroking her back as he murmurs reassurances into her hair.

I step closer, my hand on her shoulder, and she flinches at the contact, not in rejection but from hypersensitivity, her skin already singing with the early symptoms of Rut. I withdraw, but not before I notice the heat radiating through her shirt. She’s burning up.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, the words muffled by Jared’s chest. “I wanted it so badly.”

“I know.” Jared kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay, Em. This isn’t a failure. We can try again.”