Page 49 of Knot Their Safe Haven

I reached out, unable to resist touching her. My fingers found the silver streaks in her purple-dyed hair, still vibrant despite everything she'd been through. Forty in eight months, according to her medical files. The age where society said Omegas became invisible, worthless, forgotten.

Idiots.

She was more beautiful now than at twenty-three. The years had carved strength into her features, turned pretty into powerful. The fine lines around her eyes spoke of laughter and rage in equal measure. The silver threading through purple said she'd earned every year, every battle, every victory.

And those men—those fucking cowards—had watched it all happen and done nothing.

I'd stood in that hallway six hours ago, listened to them argue about propriety and timing and what Velvet would want, andI'd wanted to put my fist through the wall. Or through them. The urge to violence had been so strong I'd had to step outside, leaving them to their circular debates while her body broke down without the surgery she needed.

Knox, the gym owner with shoulders like a linebacker and all the decisive power of wet tissue paper when it mattered. He'd kept saying they needed to wait, to think, to consider all angles. Twenty years of considering, apparently, and still no conclusion.

Malcolm, the doctor who should have known better, standing there citing ethical concerns while the woman he claimed to love faced paralysis. He'd actually pulled out his phone to check medical regulations, as if bureaucracy mattered more than her life.

And Adyani—beautiful, transitioning, regal Adyani—speaking of Velvet's autonomy and choice while she literally couldn't speak for herself.

Even the son, Icarus, who I realized was this “Secret” baby and probably the reason why all those years ago Velvet was hustling for the extra cash, had shown more balls than them, trying to forge documents with the clumsy desperation of someone who'd never committed proper fraud.

Amateurs. All of them.

I could make due with the son still being in Velvet’s life. He tried, I’d give him that, but the other three.

Hard pass…

My phone rang, Alexia's name flashing on screen.

"How is she?" No preamble, just straight to business. That was Alexia—Alex in public, but always direct.

"Stable. Sleeping off the anesthesia. Should wake within the hour."

"And the cowards?"

"Haven't shown their faces since surgery started." I kept my voice low, though Velvet was too deeply under to hear. "Probablyhuddled somewhere deciding if they should be offended or relieved that I did what they couldn't."

"Fuck them." Her voice carried that particular edge that meant she was already planning something. "Dante and Damon are handling the media situation. We've bought silence from everyone who matters, and the bombing is being attributed to infrastructure failure rather than targeted attack."

"It wasn't infrastructure failure."

"I know. We're looking into it. But right now, the priority is her recovery without the vultures descending."

I traced Velvet's knuckles, noting the scars from old fights. This woman had been battling her whole life, and she'd been doing it alone despite being surrounded by men who claimed to love her.

Not anymore.

"Alessandro." Alexia's voice softened slightly. "You sure about this? Once the claiming process is finalized, there's no walking away. She becomes pack. Our Omega."

"You've all already agreed."

"We agreed to support you. But you're the one who signed the papers, who'll have to deal with her when she wakes up angry about autonomy and choice. You're the one those three Alphas will come for when they finally grow spines."

"And I’m okay with that."

The words came out harder than intended, carrying seventeen years of want and three days of fury at watching them fail her.

"Besides," I continued, gentling my tone, "she won't be angry. Relieved, maybe. Surprised, definitely. But not angry."

"How do you know?"

I thought about that text exchange, the one that had started everything. Her admission that her biggest regret was assuming those men would commit. That she would have given heryounger self permission to pursue something with the student she'd tutored.