Page 86 of Knot Their Safe Haven

"You conjugated irregular verbs incorrectly on purpose just to make her lean closer to correct your pronunciation."

"How do you?—"

"Seventeen. Years. Of. Planning. Documents." I head for the door. "Including journal entries that would make a romance novelist blush."

"Goodnight, Alexis."

"Goodnight, you lovesick fool."

The hallway is lighter now, sunrise painting the walls gold.

I detour past Velvet's room once more, pressing my ear to the door. Still sleeping, breathing deep and even. The sound satisfies something primitive in my brain—pack safe, omega protected, all right with the world.

My designated room is in the guest wing, though 'guest' undersells the luxury.

The twins don't do anything halfway—the space is larger than most Manhattan apartments, with its own bathroom that features a rain shower that could drown a small village.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause.

Blonde hair that took years to grow out from the military cut my father demanded. Cheekbones that photograph well but look harsh in person. Body that's caught between—curves where an Alpha shouldn't have them, muscle where a woman supposedly shouldn't want them. Neither masculine enough for Alexander, nor feminine enough for Alexis.

Forever caught in the middle, playing dress-up depending on the day's requirements.

Will Velvet accept this?

The question has haunted me since Alessandro first proposed bringing her into our pack. Omegas typically want clear hierarchies, defined roles. Alpha male, beta if necessary, omega female. Simple. Clean. Biological imperatives satisfied without confusion.

But I'm confusion personified. A female Alpha who can knot, who produces pheromones that make other Alphas submit, who exists in defiance of everything society says is possible. Even other female Alphas—rare as we are—don't quite know what to do with me.

"Stop it," I tell my reflection.

The doubt is pointless. Velvet will accept or she won't. I'll continue existing either way, building empires and destroying competitors and protecting my pack with ruthless efficiency.

But watching her sleep, seeing that peace, that trust—I want to be part of what gives her that. Want to be someone she turns to not just for protection but for understanding. Another woman who gets what it's like to exist outside expectations.

I wash my face, change into sleep clothes that cost absurd amounts for glorified pajamas, and collapse onto the bed.

Tomorrow—today, technically—I meet her properly. Not as Alexander, the face I wear for board meetings and hostile takeovers. Not even fully as Alexis, the woman I am in private.

But as myself.

Whatever that means.

The Noctuary Pack doesn't do cowards.

I've hostile-take overed Fortune 500 companies. Destroyed men who thought a female Alpha was an oxymoron. Built an empire while everyone watched for me to fail.

I refuse to be scared of one silver-haired omega who sleeps like safety is real.

"She'll be our omega," I whisper to the sunrise bleeding through windows. "And I'll stand beside her when the world comes calling. Let them see what female power really looks like."

The vow settles in my chest like armor.

By the time sleep finally claims me, I'm smiling.

The Rebel Queen has no idea what she's started by saying yes to Alessandro.

But she's about to find out that behind every dangerous man is an even more dangerous woman.