Page 73 of Knot So Lucky

"I'll be back," Elias says, straightening from the bed and pulling his jacket back on. "If you need me for anything, my number's written on the notepad by her monitors."

He pauses at the door, hand on the frame, and turns back with an expression I can't quite read.

"What's Dante's full name?"

The question is asked casually, like he's inquiring about the weather.

But there's something underneath the casual tone that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Why do you want to know?" Roran asks, suspicion evident in every word.

Elias shrugs, the gesture deliberately nonchalant. "Just curious."

"Dante Moretti," I hear myself answer, even though every instinct says this is a bad idea.

Because I remember what Dante said. Remember the way he used Aurora's trauma as a weapon. Remember the silence that followed, heavy and terrible.

And if this Alpha—this Bravati heir with his soft voice and threatening gaze—wants to do something about it?

I'm not going to stand in his way.

Elias nods once, committing the name to memory.

"Don't worry about it," he says, voice still casual but with an undercurrent of something dark and final.

Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Roran and I stand in silence, processing what just happened.

The room feels different without Elias's presence. Emptier, somehow, despite the fact that there are still three people in it if you count the kitten currently curled up on the foot of Aurora's bed.

"I actually feel threatened by that fucker," I admit, the words coming out rougher than intended.

Saying it out loud makes it real. Makes me acknowledge that for the first time since I became an Alpha, since I learned to use my size and strength and pheromones to control situations, I'm genuinely uncertain about my ability to protect what's mine.

Roran lets out a long breath, running his hand through his hair—a nervous gesture I've seen Aurora make countless times.

"This is the first time I'll agree with you."

The admission carries weight because Roran and I rarely agree on anything. Our relationship is built on rivalry and competition, and the shared connection to Aurora that we both navigate with varying degrees of success.

But this? This we agree on.

Elias Vance is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with physical strength or Alpha dominance and everything to do with the kind of calculated violence that happens in shadows.

We both move closer to Aurora's bed, taking up positions on either side like guards.

She's still sleeping peacefully, oxygen mask providing a steady flow, monitors beeping reassuringly in the background. The kitten—that damn kitten that started this whole mess—purrs contentedly at her feet.

"This means she's going to be in a pack," Roran says quietly, the words heavy with implication.

A pack.

Not just casual fuck buddies or complicated situationships or whatever toxic dance we've been doing.

Apack.

With bonds and commitments and the kind of permanence that I've spent years avoiding because permanent means vulnerable that means capable of being hurt.