Knot The One They Want

Torin Pov

Morning comes, though I barely notice it. My body feels like it’s running on fumes, my head heavy, my eyes burning from lack of sleep.

I sit in the kitchen, restless, tapping my fingers against the table waiting for my phone to ring. The sound of my own impatience fills the room, a rhythm that refuses to stop. The moment has arrived, I will finally have some idea of what’s going on.

I hate being taken for some sort of full, I sure I’m being played and even surer it’s Arabella. This is all her fault, she must have manipulated Oracle into stabbing Lorali. I wish I could talk to Oracle and ask him what happened but I can’t bring myself to face him. The image of Lorali sprawled out on the ground bleeding out is engraved in my mind, along with her cries.

The kitchen smells faintly of coffee and toast, though neither scent comforts me. Erin is there too, sitting across from me, calm in a way that makes me want to scream.

He’s drinking his coffee, the steam curling upward, the smell rich and bitter.

"Are you still not going to eat?" he asks, concerned, noticing my gaze on him. "No, I’m fine. I’ll eat later" He sighs at words, sliding off the kitchen stool, which also has writing on it.

"I’m going to the hospital," he says suddenly.

I glance at him , my tapping slowing and a frown appearing on my face. "The hospital? Again? You’ve been going there a lot lately."

He stiffens, his hand tightening around the coffee cup. "It’s my hospital. I have to be there. I have responsibilities."

I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. "No. The hospital is charity. You’re supposed to be focusing on the business that funds the charity. That’s what matters. You are supposed to be going to the office, not the hospital."

Has loosing his pack made him lose his mind?

His lips press together, his silence stretching. Then, finally, he exhales, his shoulders slumping. "Fine. You know me so well." He huffs "You want the truth? I have a crush. On one of the patients. That’s why I’ve been going. I want to see her, even if it’s from a distance."

I blink, then laugh, the sound harsh. "A crush? You? On a patient? That’s ridiculous, is she not bonded?"

"She is, but the pack is no good."

"But that doesn’t change the fact that she belongs to another pack, you are playing in dangerous waters." I warn, it’s never a good idea to take the omega of another pack.

"Don’t worry, we aren’t a thing, it’s just a one sided crush, it won’t become anything" he says and before I can respond, he grabs his coat, and runs out the door. I watch him go, chuckling to myself. Erin, the calm one, the rational one, undone by a crush.

I wonder which is the unlucky pack that has to compete with Erin to keep their omega. I know the girl is going to fall for him and leave her pack.

Minutes pass, the kitchen quiet again. The clock ticks loudly, each second dragging. I stare at the table, at the untouched breakfast, at the empty chair where Erin sat and then finally my phone buzzes.

An email.

I snatch it up, my heart pounding, my breath catching. The subject line makes my stomach twist: DNA Results.

I open it, my eyes scanning the words, my mind racing:

Dear Torin Spade,

Please find the results below and in attached file.

The blood matches Lorali Spade of Pack Spade, according to the Omega files.

I freeze, the words burning into me. Lorali. Spade. Omega. The match is undeniable. Shock floods me, my thoughts spiraling. I try to make sense of it, but the more I think, the less it makes sense. My chest tightens, my breath quickens, my hands shake.

It can’t be Lorali, there has to be an error.

I grab a marker, rushing to the walls, writing furiously. Words, names, connections. Lorali at the center, lines branching outward, dots connecting, patterns forming. It makes sense now. It all makes sense.

I step back from the wall, seeing all the line’s somewhat connected to Lorali’s name on the wall.

Arabella. Oracle. Erin. Yurena. Oril. The pack. The blood. The files. All of it is tied to Lorali.

"This can’t be, I’m going crazy" I mumble before grabbing my keys and rushing to the car. The engine roars and it isn’t long before the city starts to blur around me. I drive fast and my mind is consumed.

The penthouse building looms ahead, familiar and foreign all at once. I slam the car door, rush inside and up to my house.

The penthouse is silent when I step inside, it seems like everyone is gone. Perfect. My pulse hammers in my ears as I begin tearing through every single room, determined to uncover whatever secrets are hiding here. If Lorali is a traitor then there must be some evidence in the pack to back it up.

I start in the living room, pulling cushions apart, dragging furniture away from the walls. My hands shake as I search, and sure enough, I find them, tiny black devices tucked neatly into corners, blinking faintly. Cameras. Microphones. It’s all spyware, this house has been bugged, this could mean Lorali is innocent cause why would she bug a house she stays in.

I rip one free, the wires snapping, and toss it onto the floor. My breath comes fast, ragged. I move to the kitchen, opening cabinets, pulling drawers, checking under the counters. More devices. Even here, in the place where we ate, where we laughed, where we pretended to be normal. It’s bugged.

I storm down the hall, into the bedrooms. Sheets ripped back, closets emptied, mattresses flipped. Every room has them. Every single one. Even the toilet isn’t spared, I find a small lens hidden behind the flush panel, staring back at me like an unblinking eye.

By the time I reach my office, the penthouse is a mess, furniture overturned, papers scattered, devices ripped from their hiding places. My chest aches, my head pounds, but I force myself to sit at the desk, to open the computer.

The penthouse has CCTV. I know it does. I built this building. I own this building. If someone installed spyware, the cameras should have caught them. This will prove Lorali’s innocence completely. Please be innocent,. sugarplum.

I enter the pass key, my fingers trembling, and pull up the footage. The files load slowly, the screen flickering. I scroll through the dates, desperate for answers. But the footage is blacked out. Entire days are erased.

It’s like our entire CCTV system has been compromised.

My frustration boils over and I slam my fist against the desk, the sound echoing through the office. Rage burns in my chest. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They want me to blame Lorali for this, to turn against her.

I keep scrolling, refusing to give up. The day of my mother’s accident, the footage is also blacked out. Of course. But then, by mistake, I click on an earlier date.

The day Lorali first returned.

The footage outside the building is still available. I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. And there she is. Lorali. Standing outside, talking to a man in a hoodie.

My stomach drops. I know that hoodie. I know who it belongs to. Denial floods me, my mind screaming that it can’t be true. That it isn’t him. That I’m wrong.

I push back from the desk, standing abruptly, ready to leave, to escape the truth. But something stops me. A thought. A memory.

I sit back down, my hands shaking, and pull up the building’s main parking CCTV. I scroll through the footage, my breath catching. And there it is. Lorali leaving with Walter’s car, in the middle of the night, a couple hours earlier than when I got the call about my mother.

The car never returned.

My chest tightens, denial clawing at me. No. It can’t be. This is false, Lorali. The car has to still be there.

I rush out of the office, out the penthouse and down the stairs into the underground parking. I scan the rows of cars, desperate and frantic. And my heart is in a world of pain when I notice Walter’s car isn’t there at its usual spot.

My thoughts spiral, crashing into each other. The footage. The car. The spyware. It all points to Lorali. But I can’t accept it. I won’t.

A car horn blares behind me, jolting me out of my thoughts. I spin around, my heart racing.

A car pulls in, headlights cutting through the dim light. The doors open, and Augi, Kei, and Walter step out.

Walter’s eyes lock onto the empty parking behind me, his expression furious. "Where the fuck is my car?" he demands, his voice echoing through the parking garage.