Page 29 of Knot Gonna Lie (Syzygy Omegaverse #1)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUCA
The infirmary felt suffocating with all of us crowded inside—Elara perched on the examination table like a wounded warrior queen, Seth preparing supplies with hands that betrayed the slightest tremor, Jaxom hovering like a satellite torn between gravitational pulls.
The encounter with Nova had shaken us all, but none more than Elara, whose carefully constructed confidence had fractured the moment she’d scented another omega in her claimed territory.
My alpha instincts screamed warnings on multiple frequencies—injured clan, territorial threat, potential unknown dangers still lurking in the station’s shadows.
Every nerve demanded I gather my people and flee this cursed place before more blood was spilled.
But first, I had to tend the wounds we’d already suffered.
“Let me see your hand,” I said, approaching Elara with the same care I’d use for a spooked star-dove, all gentle movements and non-threatening posture. “We must make sure that it doesn’t scar.”
I reached for her hand and started unwrapping the bandage that had come loose. She didn’t stop me, but her fingers stayed curled tight.
“Elara,” I sighed. “Please…”
She opened her hand, slow and reluctant—and I saw it.
The wound had split back open, the skin angry and raw. Her palm welled crimson, the blood fresh, hot, proof of how tightly she’d been holding on. Rage had kept her moving, burning through her like fuel—and torn her open all over again.
I’d underestimated how bad her injury was—missed the signs, failed to protect her. It sent my alpha instincts into overdrive.
Failed. Failed to see. Failed to shield. Failed—
“Don’t.” Her free hand touched my face, unexpectedly gentle. She read the guilt in me like it was written on my skin. “You were busy ensuring they couldn’t touch me. This?” She lifted her wounded palm. “This was my choice.”
“You shouldn’t have had to choose violence.” I held her injured hand carefully, examining the wound while Seth assembled cleaning supplies with clinical precision. “That’s my role—to stand between you and harm.”
“Your role is what I say it is.” Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, and the territorial strain—her command held firm. “And I won’t be some helpless omega who watches while others bleed for her.”
Pride and worry tightened in my chest. She’d crossed that arena like she owned it, faced Owen without flinching, marked her claim in crystal and blood. She was fierce. Fearless. And she was mine.
But magnificence didn’t negate the bone-deep terror I’d felt watching her move into violence.
The way she’d stepped between threat and clan without hesitation, the precision with which she’d wielded that improvised weapon, the absolute conviction in her voice as she’d declared us hers—it had been breathtaking and horrifying in equal measure.
What if she’d been hurt worse? What if Owen had turned on her instead of retreating? What if—
“Seth, see to Elara first,” I instructed, though it killed me to step away from her. “I’ll examine Jaxom and make sure that hit he took didn’t scramble anything vital.”
“I’m fine ,” Jaxom protested automatically, but the bruise blooming across his temple in vivid purples and murky greens suggested otherwise.
Blood had dried in a rusty trail from the cut Marcus’s ring had opened, and his eyes held the glassy sheen of someone potentially fighting off concussion symptoms.
“You’re getting examined.” Alpha command threaded through the words, leaving no room for argument. “I won’t have my pack hiding injuries out of misplaced stoicism.”
I guided him toward the secondary examination chair, noting how he favored his left side where he’d taken that brutal backhand. My hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking for hidden damage—whether caused by his own stubbornness or something more serious he hadn’t mentioned.
The scanner painted a relief-inducing picture—minor concussion, some tissue damage, but nothing that wouldn’t heal cleanly. Still, the sight of his injuries sent fury through my veins like molten metal. Marcus would pay for every bruise, every drop of blood spilled.
If I ever see him again, I’ll tear his throat out with my bare hands.
Owen was no exception. He made a scene— ruined Elara’s last night on Syzygy Station—and he’d pay for it. One way or another.
From across the medical bay, Elara’s voice cut through my dark thoughts with surgical precision. “What does your sister want, Jaxom?”
The question hung in the recycled air, tension building like the moment before a lightning strike. I watched my clanmate closely, noting the uncertainty that passed over his face like shifting storm clouds.
“I…” Jaxom’s voice faltered, confusion bleeding through his usual competence. “I don’t really know.” He rubbed his temple gingerly. “I assume she wanted to verify the rumors were true before we disembarked. To see for herself that I was safe and well.”
“Are you sure she’s not going to ask to come along?” Seth’s question carried the weight of clinical observation, his medic’s training reading subtext like symptoms. “To escape this gilded cage they’ve built around her?”
The possibility hung between us, tense and unresolved. Through the bond, I felt Elara’s anxiety spike—her scent sharpened, her shoulders tensed at just the thought of another omega on our ship.
“I know how much you want to save your sister,” I said, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. “But we can’t afford to get into any more trouble, Jaxom. Not after tonight. We’re already marked targets.”
“I won’t allow another omega on this ship.
” Elara’s voice cut through the air, absolute and unyielding.
“Not after everything that’s happened. Not when I’ve just joined your clan, when my heat is so close.
” Her emerald eyes blazed with territorial fire.
“Maybe once we’ve settled after my heat cycle, once our bonds have had time to strengthen, we could discuss options and return to aid her somehow.
But not now. Not when she dared to step foot on my ship uninvited. ”
The possessive declaration sent a complex mix of emotions through me—pride at her fierce protection of what was ours, worry about the pain this would cause Jaxom, and relief that she was drawing clear boundaries. An omega protecting her territory was natural, necessary even.
Two omegas in the same space during a heat would be catastrophic for everyone involved.
“She’s right,” Jaxom said quietly, nodding, his voice weighted with acceptance. “Nova made her choice when she decided to board without permission. This is Elara’s territory now, her clan. I won’t ask you to compromise that for family sentiment.”
The weight of his sacrifice settled over us. He was choosing clan over blood, present over past, the bonds we’d forged over the ties that had been severed years ago.
“I’m sorry.” I meant it, gripping his shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.” Jaxom managed a wan smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But Nova’s resourceful. She’ll find another way, another ship. She always does.”
“Seth.” I turned to our medic, needing practical concerns to ground us in the present rather than drowning in regrets. “Medical status? Are we cleared for departure?”
Seth finished securing the bandage around Elara’s palm with practiced efficiency, his gray-blue eyes meeting mine with professional assessment.
“Minor injuries, all of them. Jaxom’s concussion is mild—no signs of intracranial pressure or serious trauma.
Elara’s laceration was clean, no foreign debris, should heal without complications.
” He paused, clinical detachment giving way to pack concern.
“But I’ll want daily checkups for everyone.
Head injuries can develop complications even when they appear minor, and puncture wounds carry infection risk despite proper cleaning. ”
“Daily checkups,” I said, relief hitting me hard. “Whatever you need.”
“Good.” Seth packed up his supplies with calm, practiced efficiency. “Give me thirty minutes to prepare the medbay for travel, then we can depart. The sooner we’re clear of station space, the better for everyone’s recovery.”