Page 31 of Knot the Last Chapter

The brothers share a look, but hold their peace. I’ve hit a nerve, remembering I’m in a house with three unknown alphas who could easily overpower me.

And if that’s the Tyler I think it is… I push away the thought and change the subject. “So. Tell me something you don’t tell most people.”

Corwyn arches a brow. “Truth or dare, already?”

“Humor me.” Why am I being like this? Usually I’m much smarter and polite. But with these two, I’m losing my head.

Rhys wipes his hands on a towel and leans against the counter, thoughtful.

“When I was sixteen,” he says slowly, “I built a treehouse on the north ridge. Told my dad it was to keep watch for coyotes. It was actually where I went to write poetry.”

Corwyn laughs, nearly dropping the pan. “You wrote poetry?”

“Still do,” Rhys says calmly. “But I don’t let anyone read it.”

I smile. “I’d read your poetry.”

“You’d be the first,” he says, eyes holding mine for a beat too long.

I flush pleasantly, and turn to Corwyn. “Your turn.”

He grins, but there’s a glimmer of something honest beneath it. “I almost bonded with someone, once. Years ago. I pulled away the day before the ceremony.”

My brows rise. “Why?”

“She didn’t love me. And I didn’t love her. We were both trying to be who we thought we should.”

“And now?” I ask in a whisper.

“Now,” he says, “I wait for something real.”

My throat goes dry. I nod slowly, unsure what to say.

They plate the food in comfortable silence, and we settle around the kitchen table with mismatched plates and warm bread. Misty curls in the window nearby, purring quietly.

The meal is incredible. Warm. Rich. Satisfying. Like something meant to be shared after surviving a storm. The third brother doesn’t join, but it doesn’t seem to surprise either brother here, so I don’t ask.

After dinner, Rhys quietly begins clearing the dishes while Corwyn tops off my water.

“You’re still cold,” he says, not a question.

“A little.”

“Come back to the hearth,” he offers. “We’ll add a log to the fire. You should sleep soon.”

I follow them back to the living room, heart strange and full. They move around me with ease, not pushing, not pressuring—just present. Watching. Protecting.

And I don’t feel trapped, or want to protest, which might be more dangerous.

Rhys kneels at the hearth and coaxes the second fire into a gentle blaze. Corwyn hands me a folded blanket and brushes myfingers as he does—and it’s a simple touch, but it zings straight through me.

I sit with them for a while, firelight flickering over the walls, soft voices talking about small things—storms, repairs, local gossip. I can barely focus.

Because my body’s humming.

Because my omega wants something. I spent a lifetime repressing my biology, and I still have pills in my soaked jacket, thankfully. But the heat repression only goes so far when surrounded by two very different but equally magnetic alphas who are trying very hard not look too interested.

Chapter seventeen