Knot The One They Want

Lorali : The Day Of The Boleyn Funeral

"It’s so damn cold and it smells," I groan, tapping my foot on the grass and slouching onto the bench as the jet lag hits hard. I just came back to the country not too long ago, and already I regret it. "Why did you pick this place again? Wouldn’t it be better if you found me at a train station or something? Not this weed‑ridden trailer park." I breathe through my mouth as my eyes scan the area. The whole place gives me the kind of vibes where you could get shot at any second. I miss Thali so much right now. Being in places like Thali makes you realize Prone City is the pits. There’s literally no nature here, just endless skyscrapers and the occasional rat that thinks it owns the sidewalk.

"I picked it because it’s on the bad side of the city, and thus it makes sense for your ’just escaped the auction’ ass to be here," Kazair says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I don’t like this guy and he doesn’t like me, but he’s not even one percent as bad as Spade Pack combined. Even if he was the guy who murdered that diplomat back at the gala.

I know how crazy that sounds—that a literal murderer is better than Spade Pack—but I’m not joking. I may not like Kazair’s ’I don’t give a damn’ attitude, but I have to appreciate the way he and his pack love Ella. They literally worship the ground she walks on. I was with them for only a month while conscious, and believe me, Ella is walking those grown Alphas like dogs. I have never heard of a main Alpha listening to every word his omega says in my life. I would bet everything I own (which is not much, unless you count my suffering as currency) that all her Alphas have at least once crawled to her.

"Don’t be rude, Kaz, she was just asking a question," Ella’s voice rings out from Kazair’s phone, which he clenches in his hands like he’s actually holding her. I scoff at the sight. The guy really thinks I’m going to snatch his phone? Please. Ella’s voice is laced with exhaustion. She’s been fed up with our fights, the ones she’s had to mediate for the past month.

"I’m not being rude, I was just answering her question," Kazair mutters, and suddenly the man has a full 360 personality change, instantly becoming a moping puppy in the rain. The sight makes his gruff self look less criminally. Honestly, I wonder how this pack ever passed off as farmers. Which they aren’t. I have no idea what they are, but I know their file was wrong. Farmers? Yeah, right.

"I miss you so much, Ells," I shout loud enough for Ella to hear through the phone.

"Miss you too. I wish I could be there with you," she answers back. The only reason she’s not here is because of her scent. If she were, the whole trailer park would smell like her in seconds, and that would be a dead giveaway for Torin.

We’ve been separated for a whole week because we couldn’t risk her scent attaching to me. Kazair also had to keep his distance, hence his extra moody attitude today. Luckily, Kazair is the only one of her mates who I think has an attitude problem. The rest are nice. One of them was always giving me the hardest candy in the world, and now my teeth hurt. He was the second in command if I’m not wrong. He’s so unlike his elder brother, because he’s a talker, while his brother barely speaks. I only heard him say like three words during my entire stay, and each time it was Arabella forcing things.

"Alright, we need to go now. I just received a notification that Torin’s car has been spotted close by. We need to get ready," Kazair says, and the two of them say their goodbyes before hanging up.

"Our self‑righteous Alpha should be here any minute. Dishevel your hair and look traumatized," he adds, slipping his phone back into his pocket and pulling his hood over his head.

I shove my fingers through my hair, rumpling it beneath my skull. This is it. For a month we’ve been preparing for this moment. I’ve run into trees countless times just to give myself fresh wounds, all for the sake of Pack Spade. Even their name alone sends rage boiling through my blood.

It would be simple to think I could have just killed the pack outright if I wanted to. But where is the fun in that? They never gave me the mercy of death, so why should I grant them such a mercy? No. They will all suffer uniquely, losing everything they treasure. I have carved out a special place in hell for Yurena, Oracle, Torin, and Walter. The rest will suffer by association, dragged down with them.

"He’s here," Kazair whispers, and I’m hit by Torin’s familiar musk scent wafting from behind me. I shove down the cursed fated bond that screams at me to run into his arms, to embrace his scent. I will not be a slave to this bond or to the goddess. Both have done nothing but make me suffer, and I will repay it. I will.

Kazair is instantly pushed aside as Torin appears, his eyes wide and his breathing loud. With Kazair flashing him an irritated look, Torin stands in front of me. He looks exactly as he did all those months ago, except for the bags under his eyes. He never used to have those. Maybe with the death of the Boleyn pack, he’s been struggling to sleep. Erin Boleyn was his best friend, after all, if what Ella said is correct.

The act begins now. Tears slip down my face, and I gasp, my breath uneven, just as rehearsed. He reaches out and pulls me into his embrace, making my skin crawl. I bite back the urge to shove him off me and smash his head against a rock.

"T...orin," I cry out, my voice breaking as I collapse into his arms. His grip tightens around me as I fall against him, sobbing into his chest. Arabella told me I must look pitiful so he doesn’t doubt me.

"It’s okay. Let it all out. I’m here now, sugarplum," he whispers, his hand moving up my back before patting it gently.

Sugarplum. I want to vomit at that word. It was because of that very word this man had me wrapped around his finger, played me for a fool, made me believe he cared. Thinking of the past makes me cry harder, but not from weakness. No, Torin, you too will be crying like this very soon. You will choke on your own tears, drown in them, and beg for mercy that will never come.

I imagine the day I’ll watch him crumble, stripped of his empire, his pack and his pride. I’ll watch Oracle’s smug face break, Walter’s dreams burn, and Torin’s hands tremble as he realizes everything he built will rot. Their suffering will be my justice, and their downfall will be my freedom.

We remain locked in each other’s arms for what feels like an eternity, and it would have lasted longer if I hadn’t finally had enough of being pressed against him. I fake falling asleep, sagging against his chest, letting my body go limp. He instantly lifts me into his arms, holding me close like I might vanish into thin air.

Kazair coughs suddenly, right on cue, and Torin takes the bait. "How did she get into this condition? And how did you find her?" he asks in a whisper, probably to avoid waking me.

"One of my friends in the field was investigating a disappearance," Kazair explains. His tone is back to that familiar ’I don’t care’ persona, and I’m sure it’s pissing Torin off. That bored look he probably has on his face drove me crazy and I’m sure it makes Torin twitch. "He told me he found someone matching her description at an omega auction. I tracked which auction it was, followed the routes they use, and it led me here. Looks like she escaped when they were moving to their next city or something."

This guy should be an actor if the crime thing doesn’t work out. He remembers his lines to the letter, every pause and shrug perfectly timed.

"Umm... so my payment and bonus. When am I getting it?" Kazair adds, still bored, twisting the knife.

"My assistant will pay the remainder of what you’re owed, plus the bonus," Torin states curtly, already beginning to walk away with me in his arms.

Not a bad opening performance, but this is only the prologue. Tonight will be episode one’s climax. The pack will be fighting, and my existence will be known.

I remain limp in his arms, but inside my mind is a storm. Rage coils in my chest, venom dripping from every thought. Torin thinks he’s rescuing me, thinks he’s the hero in this twisted play. He doesn’t see the trap tightening around him. He doesn’t know that every step he takes with me in his arms is another step toward his ruin.