Page 1 of Knot Enough

ONE

The familiar thunk of the iron doorknob bashed into the wall.

I jolted upright in bed, my senses on high alert as I squinted into the darkness. That fucking sound!

What couldn’t wait until morning?

A shadowed figure stood at the foot of my bed. I yanked the blanket over my boobs.

“What the fuck?”

Was Valerie going through my things again ?

I blinked a few times, my vision gradually adjusting . . . The housekeeper came into focus, and my shoulders sagged in relief. I reached over to the nightstand and pulled the chain to flood light into the room since the beam filtering through the curtains wasn’t enough to see.

“What are you doing?” She turned quickly, shoving her hand back into her apron. A strand of her bright red hair escaped her bun.

“Apologies, Ms. Noa, I didn’t mean to wake you, but your mother insisted I bring the boxes up.” The lines bracketing her mouth deepened with her frown.

“It’s all right.” I stifled a yawn. “It’s not your fault, Tams. Did she tell you why?”

“No, miss,” she hesitated before continuing. “They’re downstairs having breakfast.”

An ache bloomed in my stomach. They were having breakfast, which was nothing new, but being left out for the umpteenth time still stung.

Tams siddled toward the door.

“Wait! Can you toss me my pills before you go?”

“Yes, miss.” In two strides, she had the orange container in hand and strode over to my bedside. I kept the blanket tucked under my armpits and plucked it from her grip.

“Thank you,” I murmured, watching her leave. I didn’t release the blanket until she was gone, letting my girls have freedom.

You’d think that with them charging me rent, it would allow me a smidge of privacy, but here I was.

With my measly check as a dog walker, I barely covered the rent of the ten-by-ten bedroom.

But I should be grateful, I’d have to pay three times as much on my own, and I wouldn’t be able to afford it.

I popped the cap of my pills, peeking inside the tube. Five . . . Seven . . . Uhg. I had seven pills left. That meant refill time, and Valerie wasn’t going to make it easy for me after I’d accidentally bleached her favorite shirt.

But I couldn’t go without my depressy pills. With the container tipped over, I wiggled one of the little white pills into my palm and tossed it back, swallowing it down with a gulp.

I would have to get in her good graces before asking her to get them.

Depression was a bitch.

The residual sensation after taking a pill without water settled in my throat. I tossed the blanket aside and threw my legs over the edge of the bed.

A cramp assaulted my stomach. I needed to get downstairs to put something in my belly, or the pill would make me vomit.

Hopefully, everyone had left the kitchen, and Bear, Valerie’s damn pomeranian, had left me some scraps.

I slid my feet into my slippers and sluggishly shuffled to the dresser to pull out a bra.

My hair had dried in waves around my shoulders, as it liked to do after I fell asleep with my hair wet. I finished getting dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Breathing in sharply, I straightened my shoulders, preparing myself for whatever comments would be directed my way.

Please, God, let them not still be in the kitchen .

When all three of them were in the same room, they were insufferable.

My jeans snagged the box on my way to the door. The last time Tam was ordered to put boxes in my room, I’d been forced to move bedrooms. I had a bad feeling this wouldn’t be good. They were always renovating this place; the latest project had been a pool.

It wouldn’t be a good change, and the dread that balled in my stomach heightened with every step down the hall toward the staircase.

The steps wound downward toward the main floor, and I shuffled across the seamless tile. Even with the numerous rooms in this mausoleum, I got the closet in the attic because Valerie liked her space ‘untouched’.

As an omega, my sister was extremely sensitive. So I didn’t start shit, not that starting anything would get me anywhere, but I also didn’t want my Beta scent to hurt her. Sacrificing my comfort and moving out of the room I'd grown up in wasn't a big deal anyway.

I reached the base level, took a sharp right into a long hall that spat me out into the kitchen.

The low chatter of conversation reached my ear. Damn, they were still in here.

A savory scent filled my nose.

My stomach turned, the hollow feeling spreading. I rounded inside to Valerie sitting on the island with my dad beside her. I shuffled closer, and they didn’t turn to look at me as they stabbed their food.

Mom made chilaquiles and pisupo . I bit back a moan. My favorite meal mixed both my parents’ cultures, and it wasn’t often that Mom made the dish.

Dad stabbed his fork into the tomato-based food and then stabbed the corn beef. My mouth salivated.

I tried to smooth my expression and cleared my throat, swallowing hard.

They wouldn’t invite me to eat, so I tried to avoid looking at the delicious meal. But maybe this time it’ll be different? I hesitantly approached the lone chair on the other side of Valerie.

“Mom’s sitting there,” she sang.

I slid to the side, playing it off as if I hadn’t been about to plop down.

Neither Mom nor Dad said anything to address Val’s comment.

I gritted my teeth, but kept my expression bland.

I didn’t want to piss my older twin sister off; she’d cut me off from my pills.

She already did me the favor of hooking me up with a doctor so I could get my depression medication.

Despite how the three of them treated me, I knew she still cared about me deep, deep, deep down because she did this for me.

“Bear,” Mother crooned, and the ankle biter yipped at her heels as she plucked a piece of meat from the plate beside the stove to feed to him. I inhaled sharply. I tore my gaze away from the brown fluffy dog.

“What are the boxes for?”

For a beat, there was only the hiss of the stove.

Mom shook her head as she set the tongs down. She turned to me, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed into a disapproving line.

“Those boxes are a sign that it’s time to grow up, Elena.”

Grow up? I mouthed it back, trying to make sense of her words. Mom scooped a second serving of chilaquiles onto Valerie’s plate. How did she keep her figure yet eat whatever she wanted?

“O-kay,” I said haltingly and so very confused.

“Mhm, we need you to get your life going. You can’t expect to live with us forever.” What is going on? They’d never mentioned I had to move out in the past.

“No,” I said hesitantly. “I wasn’t planning on living here forever. But I haven’t saved money. I can’t because I give you my whole check?—”

“The money is not enough,” Mom said with a shrug. “Plus, we need more space.”

I could only blink in shock. More space? They had the entire house. But I kept my mouth shut. It was all excuses.

Valerie’s lips curled up at the corners. It was the slightest bit, but the smile was unmistakable.

“I petitioned for a placement with the council,” Dad said. “It was accepted.”

A pack placement?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I gasped. A weight fell onto my chest, and I wanted to sink to the ground. That was what the boxes were for . . . they were kicking me out—to a new pack.

“I just did.” He grunted and shrugged nonchalantly.

I rubbed my scalp with my palm to assuage the dull pain starting up at my temple. “It took a lot to get you this opportunity. I pulled some strings with an old schoolmate on the council.”

It had to have been a connection that got me in, because only influential families could get their betas a pack. “You have to leave to meet the pack Alphas waiting for you at The Registry. They have a beta already, but . . .” his voice droned on.

A new pack that already had a beta? They hadn’t even scented me. It was unheard of for a match to be made without a scenting . All of this was no good.

Pressure started at the base of my nose. I studied my parents and sister, struggling to wrap my head around what this meant.

All I’d ever dreamed of was having a family.

One that wanted me. And I wouldn’t get that by forcing my way into a pack that didn’t want me.

Emotion caused my throat to constrict. There was no use in arguing or crying about anything because they didn’t care.

They made it strikingly clear on many occasions.

The only one that mattered to them was Valerie.

The perfect Omega. The perfect daughter.

I was useless compared to her.

In a society that revered omegas, it really fucking sucked to be a Beta.

“When do I have to meet them?” My lips were numb.

“9 a.m. today.”

“That’s in an hour,” I croaked, eyes wide.

Dad turned his wrist to look at the watch. Alarm flared across his face.

“You’d best hurry. Don’t embarrass me by being late.”

My teeth clicked together, caging my scream. They were kicking me out, and I was supposed to worry about his reputation? “Now,” he bellowed, spurring me into action. I sprinted upstairs, almost falling because of my slippers.

Tams was back in the room, my clothes all piled on the bed. She was already packing everything.

I wanted to crumble into pieces. I felt like shit, and I looked like shit. Meeting my new pack while looking like trash would only bite me in the ass.

Frustrated tears spurred my jerky movements as I shoved a hairbrush and my mascara into my tote. Once I kicked off my slippers, I slid into Crocs and bolted out of my room.

I reached for Valerie’s thin sweater on the hook next to the door.

The fit was a bit more snug, but I didn’t have time to go hunt through my things.

Once I hurried down to the first floor, I was outside and down the drive to my Toyota parked at the curb.

I smoothed my hand on the steering wheel.

I’d purchased her from my Dad with my hard-earned money.

It had seemed to take forever, but I’d done it, and I didn’t regret the sweat.

Owning something purely mine was an unmatched feeling—even if sometimes I didn’t want to have to work or drive.

I swear—everything in my life felt wrong.

I revved the engine to life.

Most Omegas found out their designation at the age of sixteen, like Valerie, but there were late bloomers. After Valerie’s designation came out, I prayed and begged for me to be an Omega also, but the deadline of my eighteenth birthday showing up came and went.

I detached from the sidewalk and sped onto the asphalt. Fortunately, the Registry wasn’t far from here.

With one hand on the wheel while the other searched inside my tote for the hair brush, I pulled out of the street.

Quick swipes only caused my hair to frizz, but it was better than the tangles.

Mascara was next. I jerked the wheel to the left, almost missing the main road. My tire bumped over the uneven spot.

“Fuck,” I hissed as a black slash smeared at the corner of my eye.

Damn pothole. I paused putting the mascara on and focused on navigating the slowly crowding streets.

Minutes later, I accelerated into the sparse parking lot, sliding into a spot near the trees lining the furthest right of the building. I shut off the car and left the key in the ignition. I had fifteen minutes to go.

After shoving my mascara tube, I searched for the little makeup towelettes to swipe any imperfections, and slid my purse into the space under the passenger seat.

I slid out of the car, and with my hip, I bumped the car door shut and swiped the wipe around my eyes to get any marks I smeared.

If I’d been born to other parents—no, if I’d been born Omega?—

A rough grip wrapped around my hair, and my legs caved under me.