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As if he knows what we just did, Knox’s nostrils flare and his eyes jerk up to mine, darkening. He stops making the sandwiches and continues to stare at me for several minutes. His entire body is taut, his hand tightening around the spoon he’s applying the mustard with.

“Your slick will be my undoing,” he groans, taking a deep inhale, sucking my scent into his lungs as if it’s an aphrodisiac.

I snap my thighs together when more slick slides down my thighs and onto the chair. I shouldn’t be producing so much slick. Some, sure, but not as much as I have the last few days. Also, I feel kind of achy, like I’m about to go into heat. I’m not due to go into heat for a few more months.

“I’ll just get right on stopping it,” I deadpan.

“That’s not what I mean, Remi. I’m just saying that scenting you is delicious and different than what I’m used to.”

“Oh.” Now I really do feel embarrassed. Knox was just being nice, and I took my frustration with his actions out on him. “I’m sorry about jumping to conclusions.”

He shakes his head. “No need. I put you through a lot, so I know there’s going to be some kickback.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to be with you all,” I reply, smirking.

His features mirror mine. “By the time we’re done wooing you, baby, there’s no way you won’t be.”

His words hang in the air, bold and unapologetic, stealing the last retort right off my tongue.

For once, I have nothing to say—my lips part, then close again, useless as I swallow whatever smart remark was about to tumble out.

Instead, I stare at him, feigning indifference, but my pulse betrays me with its frantic tempo.

Somewhere beneath my armor, a secret flush of warmth unfurls, leaving me a little breathless at the certainty in his voice.

I’m not sure when his determined swagger started to get to me, but as I look away and busy myself with smoothing a wrinkle from my nightgown, it’s impossible to ignore the soft swoon curling through my chest.

“Here’s your sandwich,” he says, setting a massive sandwich down in front of me.

My eyes widen as I take it in. “That’s huge.”

Knox’s response is a secret little chuckle before he goes about piecing together his sandwich.

I reach for the sandwich, the bread still warm beneath my fingers from Knox’s, and lift it from the plate.

The thing is so thick, stacked high with layers of turkey and crisp lettuce, that I have to twist it this way and that, studying all the sides.

One corner is slightly less daunting, the bread yielding a little under my touch, so I angle it strategically toward my mouth.

Taking a steadying breath, I open wide and finally sink my teeth into the soft layers, the flavors bursting across my tongue as I chew.

For a moment, the rest of the world falls away—there is only the simple satisfaction of a perfect, late-night bite.

I think back to Knox’s words as I continue to eat my sandwich.

The part about wooing me. I dare say that when they helped me out today, they did some wooing.

No man has ever helped me out like that before.

No one has cared enough about me, except for Windy and the girls.

I didn’t expect them to, either. Especially help me after I all but told them to forget I existed.

After all that happened, I find myself sitting and thinking of the uncertainty while I stood at the threshold of Knox's office, the echo of the attack still pulsing through my nerves. But the instant I had stepped inside, a hush settled over those raw places in me.

When I spied Knox, I felt the invisible tremors in my chest begin to quiet. There was no need for words; his presence was enough. Something about the way he watched me-with a steady, unflinching attentiveness-made the shattering anxiety recede, replaced by a slow warmth that uncoiled deep inside.

For the first time since the attack, I felt a sense of peace that usually escaped me.

Instead, I was simply held by the certainty that there, I was safe.

That as long as I was in Knox's office, in his company, nothing could reach me.

I let myself breathe, let the tension slip from my shoulders, and in that moment, safety didn't feel like a distant hope.

It was a reality, tangible and immediate.

“Thank you. You know, for helping me out back there.” I choke down the bite of sandwich I took, giving my undivided attention to Knox. I watch as he sighs, placing his sandwich down on the counter.

He gives me a look. “You can come to us about anything . We want to be your safe space. If I hadn’t fucked up, we would be.”

“I felt safe when I came to you,” I whisper, looking down.

For a moment, I brace myself for the sting of vulnerability, convinced that admitting just how much I needed safety will scrape something raw inside me.

I expect the words to burn on the way out, to mark me as weak or desperate.

But when they slip free, when the truth settles between us, it doesn't hurt at all.

In fact, it feels like the sudden rush of fresh air after holding your breath for too long—an unburdening so light it takes me by surprise.

The fear of being exposed dissolves, replaced by a quiet, buoyant relief.

I realize, startlingly, that letting someone see me, unguarded and honest, isn’t a wound; it’s a release.

Even if that person is Knox. Even if he did initially hurt me by trying to push me away from them.

I don’t know what changed his mind, but dare I say, it makes me feel warm and cozy.

It makes me feel like I belong after so long of feeling as if I were on the outside looking in.

The next thing I know, Knox is moving closer, the space between us shrinking until the air feels charged and intimate.

His presence fills the kitchen, quiet and sure, and before I can look up, his hand lifts.

Gentle but insistent, he places a finger beneath my chin, tipping it upward so our eyes meet.

The touch is surprisingly tender, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw, grounding me.

I hold my breath, caught in the hush of the moment, everything else falling away but the warmth of his skin and the steady certainty reflected back in his gaze.

“I am honored that our omega felt safe coming to me. It will be my entire reason for being to make sure it stays that way.”

Tear blanket my eyes at the remembered sting of having my hair ripped from my scalp. It still aches, but it’s not the sharp, stabbing pain that it was. It’s a dull, throbbing pain.

“You make it very hard to stay mad at you,” I whisper, searching his eyes.

He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It ... is.”

“Why is it a bad thing?” he asks, the smile on his face slowly slipping away into a frown. There’s a tinge of regret and guilt lingering in his eyes.

I try to pull my chin out of his hold, but he doesn’t allow me to. My chin is trapped between his pointer finger and his thumb. Being this close, being this intimately deep with another person, is almost too uncomfortable.

“Because,” I say, my tone barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be hurt again. I have severe trust issues, and what you did not only hurt me and made me angry, but my sense of self-worth took a hit, too.”

“Remi, if you don’t hear anything else I say, hear this.

My reservations are not because you are not worth it.

You are. You are worth the entire world.

My reservations were born out of fear, and I’ll always regret what I did.

Do you remember that night Boone and I came to your house and found you with Tripp? ”

I nod. “How could I forget? That was ... It made me feel so low when you did that.”

He does something unexpected. Before I can decipher the look on his face, Knox steps forward and closes the last sliver of distance between us. In one gentle, decisive motion, his arms come around me, enveloping me in a hug that is both protective and impossibly warm.

I stiffen at first, but the steady pressure of his embrace—so sure, so careful—makes it impossible to hold on to my unease.

His scent—rich, clean, and deeply familiar—washes over me, a comfort too potent to resist. It’s almost overwhelming, how good he smells, how every careful inhale seems to thrum through my chest and lull my nerves into quiet.

For the first time since that awful night, the pain blurs at the edges, dimmed by the security of being held.

In the circle of Knox’s arms, the sting of old wounds fades beneath something kinder, steadier.

I let myself breathe him in, let his warmth anchor me, and for a moment, all I know is the hush between our hearts and the promise of safety that lingers in the air.

“It was all a lie, little omega. Every single word that came out of my mouth was a lie. Tripp and I didn’t make a bet.

“Then why?” I ask, pressing my cheek against his naked chest.

“I tried to save you from the pain of my world, but then, I scented you without the cloying perfume you wore on that first night. Your true scent. It calls to me in a way nothing else ever has. Then, I looked into your eyes for the first time. It felt like I’d been hit by a truck, and it nearly knocked me off my feet.

I knew then you were our omega. And when you showed me that spine of steel,” I smile in remembrance, “you completely enamored me.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“That’s the thing, I know. I know you weren’t trying,” he says, voice low and thready. “It completely beguiled me.”

“Is that why …” I trail off, hoping he’ll pick up what I’m trying to say without saying it.

He does with gusto.

“Yes! That’s exactly why I can’t let you go. Trust me, I tried to let you go, but the moment I scented you and looked into your eyes, I was done for.”

I smile despite myself and snuggle into his chest more.

I may not forgive them. Yet. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take solace in their presence.

Knox still has a long way to go. However, if what he’s telling me is true, then Boone and Tripp wanted me from the very beginning.

They both were steadfast in our mating, and it was Knox who was making them reject it.

To be entirely sure, I ask, “So, Tripp and Boone?”

A rumbling growl reverberates inside his chest. “They wanted you from the very beginning. There was not one second those two weren’t trying to figure out ways to get you to be with them and them with you.”

“And you?”

“I was a total fool.”

A total fool, indeed.