Page 37 of Knot the Last Chapter

Here it feels like I’m just… floating. Somewhere between my old life and something new. It’s not a bad feeling, but it’s not the most comfortable, either.

“I could get used to this,” I whisper. “The writing. The quiet. The tea. Maybe not the alphas. Or maybe especially the alphas.”

Misty stretches and curls up again beside me, as if to say: whatever happens, nap first.

I laugh softly, rub her back, and set my notebook aside. Light has completely vanished from the sky, meaning it’s getting later.

Which means it’s time to stop hiding.

I stand, tug on socks and a new sweater from the folded stack they gave me, and gently scoop up my phone. Still no bars. No signal. But if I can find the Carvers, maybe they can help me reach the mainland. Maybe there's a landline or a boat radio or… something.

I brush my fingers through my hair, give myself a firm nod in the mirror.

“You’ve survived worse than being stuck on an island with three alphas, including one you can’t stand,” I whisper.

Misty leaps down and pads toward the door ahead of me like she owns the place and I follow her into the hall.

It’s time to re-enter the plot.

Chapter twenty

Rhys

The storm left behind the kind of quiet that settles deep. Outside, the woods are slick and breathing. The trees still rustle like they’re holding a secret. Inside, the kitchen hums with leftover warmth—the scent of roasted garlic, herbs, and something softer underneath.

Her.

I scrub the last of the casserole dish, hands in soapy water, mind running in circles around a problem I can’t name. Until I can.

Lila.

Lila Quinn, who showed up half-drowned and half-feral, and somehow managed to take over the house without trying. Who smells like summer clover and clean rain, and who made my brother Tyler look like he’d walked into an emotional buzz saw the second he laid eyes on her.

Not that she gave anything away. Not that she said a word. But you could feel it. Something thick and hot and electric in the air when the two of them were in the same room.

And that should bother me. But it doesn’t.

Because I can’t stop thinking about the way she smiled over dinner. The way she teased Corwyn. The way she scraped the last of the flatbread from her plate like she hadn’t eaten something so good in a while and wanted to stretch the moment out.

I glance up as she enters, Misty trailing her heels like a gray ghost.

She’s in my hoodie, sleeves pushed up, hair tied back in a loose knot that looks like it’s thinking of falling apart again. Her cheeks are still pink from the fire, and her scent is softer now, but no less dangerous.

“Hey,” she says, standing in the doorway like she’s not sure if she’s intruding. “Do you guys have a way to reach the shore?”

I blink, force my brain to think of something else than how amazing she looks right now. Clearing my throat helps clear my brain, too, and I answer. “Cell reception’s spotty out here, especially during a storm, but we usually manage just enough bars near the boathouse.”

She lifts her phone and waves it, screen dark. “I’m zero for zero.”

I set the dish aside. “Corwyn might still have our old four-way radio system. We used it to check in with the mainland when the house was being renovated. He kept it in the library last I saw.”

She nods, but doesn’t leave. Her fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “Do you need help in here?”

My mouth opens. Closes.

Because I want to say no. I want to tell her to go rest, to let me handle it, to keep the distance I’ve spent most of my adult life learning to maintain.

But instead I say, “Sure. I’ll dry, you rinse?”