Page 28 of Knot Their Safe Haven

"The registry committee can fuck itself." I smiled sweetly as his face flushed. "The movement passed. We're operating within full legal parameters."

"Legal doesn't mean welcomed." He stepped closer, and I caught the sour scent of his ambition. "You're making enemies, Morclair. Powerful ones. This crusade of yours?—"

"Revolution," I corrected. "The word you're looking for is revolution."

"Whatever you call it, you're drawing attention. The kind that gets Omegas hurt."

Was that a threat?

I studied his face, noting the nervous tic in his left eye, the way his hands clenched and unclenched. Not his threat then—he was just the messenger. Someone higher up was getting nervous about our progress.

As they should be.

"Are we done here?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Because unless you have something more substantial than vague warnings, I have seventeen refugees to process and three new safe houses to fund."

He opened his mouth, closed it, then stepped aside.

"Be careful, Morclair. Even rebels can fall."

I left without responding, my heels clicking against the marble floors of the government building. The place reeked of false power and real corruption, making my skin crawl. Every time I had to come here for these mandatory meetings, I felt likeI needed three showers and a bottle of wine to wash away the stench.

My driver waited outside, the car already running.

I slid into the backseat, finally allowing my shoulders to slump.

The facade of the untouchable Rebel Queen was exhausting to maintain, especially when my body still hummed with the echo of Malcolm's touch.

"Where to, Ms. Morclair?" My driver's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"The Haven. Take the long route."

I needed time to think, to process the weight of everything.

The meeting had been a waste of three hours, but the real information had come from André's warning.

Someone was mobilizing against us, threatened by our success.

After twenty years of careful growth, we were finally becoming too big to ignore.

My phone buzzed.

Knox's name flashed on the screen, and I let it go to voicemail. Then Malcolm called. Then a text from Adyani.

All of them checking in, circling, maintaining their careful distance while pretending they weren't desperate for more.

The photo from this morning haunted me—Malcolm at my door, caught by whoever was trying to threaten me. They thought exposure would ruin me, that the shame of being an Omega who needed Alpha touch would destroy everything I'd built. They didn't understand that shame required giving a fuck about their opinions, and I'd run out of fucks to give somewhere around thirty-five.

It was simply getting annoying because the world enjoyed constantly mocking my pathetic situationship of misery.

I could only wonder what would it be like to have an Alpha who walked into my life and was ready to be in charge. To silence the noise. To truly prove to the world that I was worthy of their possessiveness like any other Omega in their prime youthfulness.

Wishful thinking…

The city blurred past my window, a watercolor of glass and steel and broken dreams.

My reflection in the window looked haggard despite the expensive makeup. The purple dye was fading faster these days, silver roots showing through like cracks in armor. Nearly forty and fighting a war on multiple fronts, my body a battlefield between what nature demanded and what society expected.

The car pulled up to the Haven, our little fortress in the eyes of these millionaires who sought to rid of any hooded space of safety for those they could take advantage of. From the outside, it looked like any other building in the arts district—weathered brick and tall windows, blending seamlessly with the galleries, studios, and apartment complexes surrounding it.