Page 27 of Knot the Last Chapter

Warm. Soft. Spiced-sweet and unmistakably omega.

And familiar.

I take a slow breath, and it hits deeper this time—like clover honey over firewood, sharper now, cleaner. My memory offers a flash of her: standing in my bookstore, trying to look unimpressed, making a joke about religion and inspiration, all bright eyes and nervous laughter.

The omega from The Velvet Spine.

Lila.

“Rhys?” I call, already halfway toward the main room. “You didn’t tell me you had company.”

Rhys looks up from the armchair by the hearth, one knee propped, tea in hand like he’s been waiting for me to connect the dots.

“I found her down by the cove,” he says. “Her boat split near the rocks. She was soaked through, but unhurt.”

I raise a brow. “She crashed a boat and you just brought her home like a stray?”

“She’s not a stray,” he says evenly. “She just needs safe harbor for now.”

That name sinks in fully now, and I run a hand through my hair, laughing under my breath. “And a good mystery.”

Rhys tilts his head. “You know her?”

“She came into the shop last week.” I lean against the hearth, watching the fire shift and crackle. “She said she was writing a mystery. Said something about murder and monologues. I didn’t forget the scent.”

Rhys doesn’t smile, but his brows lift. “Small world.”

“Feels like more than coincidence.”

He grunts softly. “Yeah. Doesn’t it?”

Before I can say more, I hear footsteps behind me.

Soft. Barefoot.

And then she enters the room—and every muscle in my body goes still.

She’s wearing one of Tyler’s oversized t-shirts and a pair of old leggings. Her hair is damp and falling over her shoulders in loose waves, cheeks still pink from the shower. There’s a glow to her—fresh, flushed, like something wild that’s only just begun to settle.

And her scent. It drapes over the room like silk, subtle but impossible to ignore. My alpha stirs, slow and deliberate, not aggressive—just aware. Attuned.

And so is Rhys. I can see it in how he straightens slightly in his chair, his hand tightening on his tea. We’re both careful. We’reboth trained to be, as not to scare non-alphas, especially omegas. But Lila’s presence stirs something in both of us.

She stops just inside the room and stares at us, blinking slowly. “You,” she says to me.

I smile, warm and slow. “Me.”

“You’re one of the Carver brothers.”

“Guilty. Corwyn Carver, at your service.” I give a small bow and she smiles. “Did you find your mystery, yet?”

Her eyes dart to Rhys. “Well I found a mansion full of handsome alphas. That’s interesting.”

She blushes when she realizes what she’s implied, and I give her an out. Let no one ever say Corwyn Carver isn’t a gentleman.

“You look good as a shipwreck,” I say, before I can stop myself. A gentleman with a bit too much fire, perhaps.

She flushes a deeper pink. Her scent flickers—barely, but it’s there. A spike of something richer, something responding.