Page 43 of Knot Their Safe Haven

Twenty years of dancing around commitment, and even my potential paralysis wasn't enough to make them step forward. The fury that rose in me was so intense I thought surely it would force my eyes open, make my body respond. But I remained trapped, a consciousness screaming in a cage of meat and bone that wouldn't obey.

He took a deep breath, loud enough for me to hear, and released it slowly. When he spoke, his voice carried the kind of authority that didn't ask for compliance—it simply expected it.

"Finish the paperwork."

"But Sir, it will get rejected?—"

"She's the Omega of the Noctuary Pack." The words were clear, decisive, brooking no argument. "Put her name down as my Omega. If anyone needs confirmation, they can call me directly. I'll gladly confirm."

The silence that followed was different—shocked rather than tense. When the doctor finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sir... you're one of the founders of the Noctuary Larissa Organization."

"Yes." Simple confirmation, as if claiming a stranger as his Omega was perfectly normal for someone of his standing. "Though the creator of the organization is my pack member. She'll arrive from Thailand tomorrow to discuss any additional details you need."

"S-she?" The stutter in the doctor's voice would have made me smile if I could control my facial muscles.

"A rare female Alpha 'she.'" Amusement colored his tone now. "I know they're an anomaly just like male Omegas, but she's as commanding as they come, aside from the obvious anatomical differences."

The doctor seemed to choke on air, coughing delicately before recovering her composure.

"I'll—I'll get the paperwork processed immediately. Surgery can be scheduled within the hour to address any nerve damage from the fall."

The fall.

Memory crashed back like a wave—water, darkness, lungs burning for air they couldn't find. I'd fallen. Bomb. There had been a bomb, and I'd fallen into water, and I'd been drowning, and the last thing I'd seen?—

Emerald eyes.

Footsteps indicated the doctor leaving, the door closing with a soft click that sounded like finality. The room felt different with just him here—whoever he was. The air itself seemed charged, aware, like the moment before lightning struck.

I felt him move closer, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he sat on the edge. Bold. Intimate. The kind of casual claim to space that Knox never quite managed, that Malcolm was too proper for, that Adyani would only do after formal invitation.

"I know you can hear me."

His voice was different without the doctor present. Softer but somehow more dangerous. Like velvet wrapped around a blade.

"Your breathing changed when she mentioned paralysis. Your heart rate spiked when she talked about them not claiming you." A pause, then quieter, "And you always did have tells when you were eavesdropping, even seventeen years ago."

Seventeen years.

My mind raced, trying to place the voice, the presence, the authority that let him claim me without hesitation. The math aligned too perfectly with the text messages, with memories of French lessons and inappropriate honesty.

Alessandro.

It couldn't be. That boy was gone, had disappeared into European universities and family businesses and whatever life billion-dollar heirs lived. He couldn't be here, couldn't be the one who'd?—

Fingers brushed my cheek, and even through the numbness, I felt it. Warm. Real. Calloused in ways that suggested he did more with his hands than sign documents.

"They're cowards, you know." His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "All of them. Standing in that hallway, arguing about who had the right to makedecisions, who should sign papers, what would happen if word got out. As if your life was less important than their reputations."

The fury in his voice was quiet but absolute. The kind of anger that didn't need volume to be terrifying.

"Twenty years, Velvet. They've had twenty fucking years to claim you properly, and they couldn't even do it when you were dying."

Was I dying? Had I been that close?

"Knox kept saying it was complicated. That there were considerations, responsibilities, that you wouldn't want them to make it official under duress." A harsh laugh. "As if letting you potentially die paralyzed was somehow more respectful of your autonomy."