Page 17 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)

AVA

S till in my night shorts and tank top, I throw the covers off and jump out of bed as soon as I hear the door shut downstairs. It’s a surprisingly loud door for such an elegant suite. They’ve all finally gone to breakfast. I had to tell Emily I had a headache to get her to leave without me.

So far, I’ve kept my scent hidden by dosing myself in both scent neutralizers and perfume every time I go to the bathroom. But that won’t cut it for long. And if I go into heat… fuck! I can’t let that happen.

I’ve read that eighty percent of omegas go into heat within the first few weeks after they designate. Sometimes immediately. So, getting those heat suppressants is priority number one.

Praying to every god in existence, I rush downstairs and head straight for Declan’s bags.

Declan arrested Knox, so logically, Declan took the drugs as evidence, but that doesn’t mean he kept them, or that he still has them on him.

He could have turned them over to the French authorities. That would be protocol, right?

Realizing I know nothing about police procedures, I go for the three suitcases lined up along the back wall behind the couch.

Maybe we should make the guys keep their stuff up in the bedroom, so the living space doesn’t get cluttered.

I hate clutter. There’s already a half-empty pizza box on the counter that needs to be thrown away, a stray pair of sunglasses tangled in a mess of charging cables, and a rogue sock peeking out from beneath the armchair like it’s claiming territory.

Somewhere near the window, a crumpled paperback lies face down, its pages dog-eared and forgotten. Heathens.

But if their stuff is in the bedroom, then they’ll come upstairs more, and I really don’t like that idea either. Keeping these alphas away is the best option. Which means their crap stays in the living room.

The first bag is a mess. Nothing is folded.

Everything is jammed inside like a hurricane left it there.

It smells like warm leather—rich, dark, and a little dangerous, like the inside of a well-worn jacket and the promise of trouble pressed close.

Was Knox even able to pack his own shit?

Or did Declan throw it in and that's why it’s so messy?

I move on to the next one, but Gunner’s already there, planted in front of the suitcase with his front paws braced on top, guarding it like some kind of gargoyle. His gaze never leaves my face as I inch closer. I like dogs, but I’m not convinced this one likes me.

“It’s okay,” I coo in as soothing a voice as I can muster. “I’m just gonna look inside. I only need one thing.” One very important thing.

I crouch lower and hold out my hand. Gunner sniffs it like I’m a questionable appetizer, then lets out a low, almost offended snort.

“See, you can smell it, can’t you? It won’t be good for any of us if that smell gets worse. So, let me in the bag, okay?”

Why the hell am I explaining things to a dog?

With a cautious hand, I nudge his paws off the suitcase. He steps aside but not far. When I flip the lid open, he plasters himself to my side like a bodyguard with opinions. No growl. No bite. Just one long, hot, judgy exhale against my leg.

I guess that’s permission.

Everything in this bag is placed neatly inside of smaller travel organizers—like the ones I use.

The smell of pine and cedar hits me right in the chest. I inhale deeply.

Declan’s evergreen, moss, and sun-warmed rock scent curls through me like a memory.

My shoulders relax. It’s the kind of smell that makes me feel small, in the best way.

Like silence and something ancient wrapped in deep greens.

Just as I’m about to start digging through Declan’s bag, the door creaks open. I drop like a stone, flattening myself behind the couch.

Gunner barks once—sharp and smug, like he’s tattling—then trots off with a little swish in his step, tail high like he just did his civic duty.

Traitor.

“Hey, boy,” Emily says.

A few seconds later, her footsteps sound on the stairs. “Ava? You doing okay? I forgot my meds, and the buffet was super crowded, so I thought we could…” Her voice is muddled now that she’s in the bedroom, so I don’t hear the rest.

After living together for two weeks, I know Emily takes a daily anti-anxiety med.

I was surprised when she casually told me about it the first day and followed the confession by asking me to help her remember to take them, since her routine was all out of whack.

I should have reminded her about them this morning.

For a moment, I contemplate dashing to the kitchen and pretending I was there all along. But if I do that, I’ll lose this opportunity. It could be a while before the room is empty again.

Crawling on my belly, I scoot back to Declan’s bag and start digging through his belongings as quietly as I can.

“Ava?” Emily calls again, footsteps getting closer. The couch is tucked behind the stairs and the bags are behind the couch, so I know she can’t see me yet, but I hurry my search just in case.

“Was she okay, Gunner? Where’d she go?” Gunner barks sharp and insistent, like he’s delivering breaking news, and Emily laughs. “Stop pushing, silly boy.”

That laugh is way too close for comfort. Shit! I quickly stack things back in Declan’s bag just how I found them—or as close as possible—but I’m not fast enough.

“What are you doing?” Emily asks, her voice low with suspicion.

Gunner answers before I can, nosing her thigh with surprising urgency. He glances back at me, then up at her, like ‘ Come on, keep up.’

Shit! Shit! What do I say? How do I handle this?

Like the omega I am now, I burst into tears.

Emily sinks to her knees next to me and pulls me into a hug.

“This i-isn’t l-like me,” I blubber. “I d-don’t cry.

” But I’m crying now. All the stress of trying to hide what’s happening to me comes to the surface, and I break.

Full cracks right down the middle. Not getting a medal at the Olympics.

Watching my ex with his new omega—while she’s in fucking heat!

Designating as an omega myself. And now, being stuck on a cruise ship with two men who smell like heaven and hell all at once.

It all catches up with me, and I can’t breathe.

I haven’t had a meltdown like this in years. Not since my parents tried taking me to Disneyland when I was ten. It was a nightmare. I was exhausted and overstimulated and cried for an hour straight.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily soothes, pulling me so close I can pick up every note of her light amaretto scent. “It’s gonna be alright. I’m an expert at this kind of thing. Just breathe with me, okay?”

She takes a deep inhale, and I clock the exact moment she knows my secret. Her body stiffens, a small gasp leaves her lips. But she softens immediately, tightening her hold on me, rubbing my back. “Oh, Ava.”

Gunner wedges himself between us like he belongs there, letting out a satisfied grunt as he settles in. He rests his heavy head on my thigh with a dramatic sigh. His warmth is steady, and grounding, and almost as comforting as Emily’s.

For the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel so alone.

Emily lets me cry for what seems like a long time. My muscles are stiff, and now I really have a headache. Emily’s got to be uncomfortable. Her legs are probably asleep from how I’m half in her lap, but she doesn’t complain.

“I need to find the suppressants,” I whisper.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Emily sighs and repositions herself, scooting closer to Declan’s bag. “So, did you already look through here?”

“Sort of, but not thoroughly.” I kneel next to her.

Together, we make short work of looking through each little travel organizer.

The only semi-interesting things we find are Declan’s neurotically folded socks and three old, well-loved cookbooks—titles in French, spines cracked, pages marked with penciled-in notes and little splatters of sauce.

He must’ve picked them up in Paris. Definitely didn’t have him pegged as the used cookbook type.

I tuck them carefully back at the bottom of his bag, a little more curious than before.

“No, this one was on top of that one,” I say as we carefully try to keep our snooping from being discovered.

“What do we do now? The pills clearly aren’t here.” Emily leans against the back of the couch. “Do we even know he has them? We need a plan.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Of course.” Emily smiles. “We’re besties. Remember?”

Right, besties. That conversation in our Olympic Village apartment seems like ages ago.

Something in my gut aches, a tug in my chest that has me turning to study Emily. She’s so kind, so beautiful. She stares back at me, and I know I’m making too much eye contact, but I can’t look away. Surprisingly, Emily doesn’t seem alarmed by it.

She sets her hand on top of mine and gives it a squeeze. “So, omega, huh?”

There’s something sad in her smile that makes me want to pull her in for a hug.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want this.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” Again, that sad smile.

“What is it you want?” I turn her hand over and lace our fingers. She doesn’t pull away.

“I… um… what do you mean?”

“Seems to me you have three men drooling over you,” I say, half an answer.

“Not Knox.” She looks down at our hands.

I tilt my head, studying her. “Is that what you want? Knox to be into you?”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head adamantly. “I don’t date unbonded alphas.”

“Right.” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Declan and I aren’t dating. We’re having fun. On vacation.”

I nod, but I’m sure she can see my skepticism. I shift my gaze away from her to the strands of dog hair littering my shorts. “And what about omegas?”

“What about them?”

“Do you date unbonded omegas?” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.

“Oh… um… it’s never… I mean…” Emily takes her hand back and stands up. “I guess the same rules apply as with alphas, right? They could run off with a scent match and leave me just as easily.”

Shit, I scared her. Completely misread this—as usual.

“Sorry.” I stand up. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Just curious. You know?”

“Right.” She wipes her palms over her shirt, then bounces on her toes putting on a wide smile. “Well, we should come up with a plan to find those pills.”

I brush the dog hair off myself, disappointed that I ruined the moment, but grateful that she wants to help. “What do you have in mind?”