Knot The One They Want

Lorali Pov

"Wow, you really look like you want to kill me right now." I laugh, glancing at Yurena, who shares the same lunch schedule as me in the hospital cafeteria. Of all places, of all times, it has to be here that we meet everyday.

These two hours a day other than at night, when I’m sleeping, are the only escape I get from Torin, the only window where he disappears to do whatever it is he does, things I don’t care to know, not right now. I already have enough problems weighing me down.

"Seriously, are you not going to talk?" I mutter, stabbing my spoon into the sad excuse for mashed potatoes on my tray.

The taste is so bland it makes me grimace.

I swear I could do better with my eyes closed. Does hospital food have to be this depressing and flavorless? If so, no wonder people die here.

"You must be feeling really bad and stupid. It’s your fault that you’re blind and in a wheelchair." I lean back in my chair across from her, glaring.

Even with one eye, the cranky old woman still manages to roll it at me. "It’s also your fault Oracle is in jail. If you hadn’t stabbed me, he wouldn’t be locked up. Because I wouldn’t have spent the whole night crying after my surgery, to convince Torin to put him in jail."

Since that night, nothing has gone according to plan. And I can’t even say I hate it.

Kei and Augi are gone, I don’t know where exactly. Torin was vague when he mentioned it, and I don’t think it was on purpose. He might not know either. He hasn’t been sleeping at the penthouse. In fact, I don’t think he’s sleeping at all. He’s up to something. Something that will piss me off.

"Anyway, continue ignoring me. I’ll remember this day when you ask me about you-know-who." I push myself up from the chair a little too fast and a sharp pain tears through my newly stitched gut. I wince, clutching at the ache, but force myself to keep moving. I will not let her see me in pain.

/___/____/____/

I should be heading back to my room, but the thought of lying there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of machines and footsteps, makes me restless. I need air. I need space, my life is a mess right now.

So instead of turning down the corridor toward my room, I take the elevator up. My finger hovers for a moment before pressing the button for the rooftop garden. The doors slide shut, and I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. The ride feels longer than usual, but when the doors open, the cool air greets me instantly.

The rooftop is quiet, the hum of the city softened by distance. Flowers line the edges, though they’re not particularly well cared for, and benches sit scattered across the space. I breathe in, grateful for the moment of escape.

As I step forward, I nearly bump into someone. A man.

"Wow, Sorry" I mutter, steadying myself. "Didn’t expect to see anyone up here."

He smiles faintly, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Didn’t expect to see you either. Guess we had the same idea about avoiding rooms."He looks calm but I can tell the nerves in his voice and his blushing... must be allergies.

Susie looks the exact way around flowers and they are both allergic to pollen.

"Since you were here first I will leave" I laughed, I wanted it to be light but it came off nervous making the whole situation awkward. "No it’s is fine, I have been here long enough you may stay, I will go" he states and shack my head "How about we both stay this place is big enough for both of us" I’m not a terrible person to anyone other then Pack Spade.

"I suppose it is, it’s actually supposed to fit 25 people at the same time" He chuckles.

I tilt my head narrowing my eyes "How do you know that?"

"Oh, My packmate was the architect of this Hospital." he says as we walk to the balcony railing.

"I thought it was the owner of the hospital who designed it" I say side-eying him "I am he" he says confidentiality and I burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the rooftop. "Impossible. You? Own this hospital? Don’t joke like that."

"I’m serious," he says, feigning pain in his expression. "I really do."

I shake my head, still laughing. "No, I know who owns this hospital. It’s Erin Boleyn. Everyone knows that."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. That’s me. Erin Boleyn."

My laughter dies instantly, my eyes widening. "Wait. You’re serious? You’re Erin Boleyn?"

"Yeah," he says simply.

"Oh my God," I breathe, my cheeks flushing. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—" He waves my apology off. "It’s fine. I get that reaction a lot. You are Lorali right?"

I stare at him, still processing. "How do you know me? How do you know I’m Lorali?"

He leans back, his gaze steady. "I make it my business to know the people who walk into my hospital. And you... kinda met my packmate at the gala.."

My chest tightens. "I did?" If it wasn’t Spade pack, I probably won’t remember the guy after all this time.

"Yes," he admits. "He was the one who looked like he was about to pass out when you danced with him."He reminds me and I dive into my memory of that night, remembering dancing with his packmate that looked really nervous at the time "Oh.. I remember him now, he was such a sweetheart" I gush, if I wasn’t fated to Pack Spade, I would have chosen Boleyn because the guy was really cute. A true gentleman.

"This is awkward, us meeting again after I rejected your pack and all" I nervously itched the back of my head, what a place to meet the man I rejected.

"It’s alright, I don’t mind" He smiles and I let out a relieved smile.

We stood together, looking out at the view. The city lights flicker below, the horizon painted in shades of orange and purple as the sun dips lower.

"So," he says after a pause, "how’s your pack?"

I exhale, my shoulders slumping. "To cut it short, My life would have been better if I’d been in Boleyn pack instead of the one I’m in now. Everything would have been different. I wouldn’t be miserable and in a hospital"

He shakes his head. "I’m not so sure about that." I glance at him, frowning. "Why not?"

"Because If you chose mine you’d be in for a very lonely future after my pack died, if they died in that alternate reality where we were one pack."

My voice softens. "I’m sorry. For the death of your pack." I forgot that his entire pack died and I was one of the first people to know, all because Ella’s pack and his pack work closely together. He shrugs, though the weight in his eyes betrays him. "It’s fine. Or at least, I’ve learned to live with it."

I bite my lip, regret gnawing at me. "If I’d picked your pack, I’m sure, they wouldn’t have died and everything would have been different."

"Probably," Erin agrees. The atmosphere darkens, the air heavy with what‑ifs and regrets. I wish I

hadn’t said anything, wish I could take the words back. But he breaks the tension with a sigh. "Anyway, we can’t do anything about the past. So tell me, what do you do for fun?"

I blink, caught off guard. "Fun?"

"Yeah," he says, watching me carefully. "Do you do nothing for fun?"

I hesitate, embarrassed. The truth is, there hasn’t been time for fun. Not when I’ve been consumed with bringing down a pack, not when every day feels like survival. But out loud, I say, "I used to skate. For fun."

His lips curve into a smile. "Nice. Skating’s good."

I tilt my head. "What about you? What do you do for fun? Now that you’re alone."

He sighs, leaning back. "At most, I used to sleep for fun. But not anymore."

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because I have a crazy person in my house now," he says dryly. "Writing on my walls. So every time I get home, I have to help my crazy person instead of sleeping." I laugh, the sound easing the tension. "That’s... unfortunate."

"Yeah," he agrees, chuckling.

"Why is this person writing on the walls" I ask and he lets out a tsk "He thinks the world is plotting against him and his omega" He says pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Oh... That’s extreme, what gave him that idea"

"His mother is in hospital and his pack is a mess so it sort of makes sense"

"That’s pretty bad if someone is really scheming against him, I hope he finds the person." I say pulling away from the railing.

Our conversation drifts, touching on useless things like favorite foods, childhood memories, the ridiculousness of hospital routines. We crack jokes, laugh at nothing, and for a moment, the rooftop feels lighter and my life feels less like a mess. The more I talk to him the more I regret ever meeting Spade.

Eventually the conversation comes to an end. "We should head back. It’s getting late."

I nod reluctantly. "Yeah. You’re right."

We walk together toward the elevator. At the doors, he gestures. "You first."

I shake my head. "No, you first."

He smirks. "Fine. We’ll both go first."

The doors slide open, and we step inside, the silence comfortable now.

As the elevator descends, I think about the conversation, about the strange comfort of talking to Erin Boleyn, about the regrets I can’t shake. And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than packs and battles. Can I live freely like my sisters?