Page 71 of Knot So Lucky

The nerdy Alpha—Elias—looked like he was dozing off one minute. His eyes were closed, breathing deep and even, the picture of relaxed contentment.

Then, like a switch being flipped, his eyes are open and locked on us.

The transformation is instantaneous and terrifying.

One second, he's the soft-spoken, apologetic tech who was so concerned about touching Aurora's cheek without permission.

The next second, his gaze is the most threatening thing I've encountered since my father caught me sneaking out at sixteen.

It's not just alertness.

It's predatory awareness that radiates danger in ways that bypass conscious thought and speak directly to survival instincts.

His eyes—those soft green eyes that looked so gentle when he was talking to Aurora—have gone hard and cold. Calculating. The kind of look that assesses threats and decides on appropriate responses in microseconds.

It's the depths of his suddenly threatening gaze that actually triggers goosebumps along my arms.

Because I recognize that look.

I've only seen it once before, directed at me by one other person in my entire life.

My father's murderous gaze.

The expression he wore when someone threatened our family. When business deals went wrong and needed to be... corrected.When loyalty was questioned and examples needed to be made.

It's exactly like that, but somehow feels even more threatening when the sleeping Omega—the fake Alpha, the woman I've been sleeping with for years—is cradled protectively in his arms.

My Alpha instincts war between territorial aggression and genuine self-preservation.

Because that look says very clearly:Try to take her from me and see what happens.

Neither Roran nor I say anything.

Can't say anything when we're both processing the fact that the nerdy tech genius just transformed into something predatory right in front of us.

Elias blinks once.

Twice.

The threatening gaze disappears as fast as it came, replaced by that same soft concern he showed earlier. Like a mask sliding back into place with practiced ease.

But I saw what's underneath.

We both did.

"Hey," Elias says quietly, voice barely above a whisper to avoid waking Aurora. "How did the meeting go?"

The casual question is jarring after that display of barely concealed violence.

I force my jaw to unclench enough to speak.

"Long."

Roran's equally terse.

"Exhausting."

I recall what Elias mentioned in the ambulance—that he's from the Bravati family. At the time, it registered as important but got pushed aside by more immediate concerns.