Page 13 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

The observation hit too close to home, and I yanked my wrist free with perhaps more violence than necessary.

"Whose problem is that? Mine. Not yours."

"It is my problem."

"No, it's not." The words came out bitter, years of frustration distilled into syllables. "The only problem I have is you won't go off and commit to an Omega instead of continuing this odd dance of yes-no-maybe-so we're playing."

"Why do you keep bringing this up?"

The genuine frustration in his voice almost made me laugh.

How could someone so intelligent be so fundamentally stupid about something so simple?

"Maybe because the looming reality that I'm going to be forty and I'm still packless is finally nagging me like a ticking time bomb." My voice rose with each word, control slipping through my fingers like water. "And I'm fucking tired of you asking me stupid shit when you know exactly what I want."

"Velvet..."

My name on his lips, soft and pained and everything I couldn't afford to hear right now.

I spun to face him, letting him see everything—the exhaustion, the want, the barely-contained fury that had been building for twenty years.

"Are you going to wait until I have no Omega traits left to finally say I'm yours?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

No words came out, and that silence— that fucking silence —said everything.

The anger drained out of me all at once, leaving nothing but bone-deep weariness. I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking deep breaths that did nothing to calm the storm in my chest. When I spoke again, my voice was barely above a whisper.

"I love you, Knox. Love you more than anyone.

Had a whole child because I love you." The words scraped my throat raw, twenty years of unspoken truths finally given voice.

"And yet you don't love me enough to even pity that I'm wasting the remaining time as an Omega playing around with Alphas who will be there when I need it most but aren't at my side in any other aspect of my life? "

"It's not that simple?—"

"Yes, it is." I cut him off, the whisper turning sharp as broken glass. "It's so fucking simple you're overthinking it like it's the hardest equation you've ever tried to solve."

I turned toward the door, needing distance before I said something we couldn't come back from.

Or worse—before I broke down entirely.

"We just need more time."

His words stopped me at the threshold.

More time.

Always more time.

As if we had an infinite supply, as if my body wasn't already showing signs of the expiration date society had stamped on my forehead the day I'd presented as an Omega.

I turned back, closing the distance between us in three quick strides.

He actually stepped back, surprise flickering across his features as I got directly in his face. This close, I could see every line around his eyes, every silver hair at his temples, every sign that time wasn't stopping for either of us.

"Fine lines," I whispered, my voice trembling with something that might have been rage or might have been heartbreak. "Under bags. Wrinkles. Grey hairs. I'm aging just like you, Knox, and neither of us are going to be here forever."

His grey eyes searched mine, and for a moment—a single blink—I thought he might finally say something that mattered.

"You may not be on a ticking time bomb," I continued, feeling my eyes burn with tears I refused to let fall yet.

"But I am. That's my reality, like any other Omega.

And honestly... deep, deep inside, my very soul wants to experience, just once, what it would be like for an Alpha to be in my life and take charge.

Versus hiding me in shadows for when it's conveniently timed. "

"I'm not ashamed of you."

The words were soft, almost desperate, and they might have meant something if actions hadn't spent twenty years proving otherwise.

I smiled, feeling a tear finally escape to trail down my cheek like an accusation.

"You sure don't act like it."

I turned away, not bothering to wipe away the tears that followed the first. Let him see what his cowardice cost.

That every time we had this conversation, another piece of me died.

The gym door closed behind me with a finality that echoed in my bones. Four-twenty AM, and I was done pretending this would ever change.

Over believing that love was enough when it came wrapped in conditions and qualifiers and endless waiting.

The hallway stretched before me, fluorescent lights flickering like dying stars, and I let myself imagine what it would be like to have an Alpha who'd chase after me. Who'd pin me against the wall and tell me I was theirs, no questions, hesitation, and no more fucking time needed.

But the hallway remained empty except for my shadow, and that probably said everything that needed saying.

Maybe the figure in the glass had been a hallucination after all.

Or a ghost of possibility—of the Alpha who'd seen me clearly all those years ago, who'd promised I'd stop running from what I wanted.

The irony was that I had stopped running.

I'd been standing still for years, waiting for men too scared to move forward with me.

The tears came harder now, silent sobs that shook my shoulders as I made my way through the empty building.

Each step felt like goodbye, though I knew I'd be back tomorrow.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

Because that's what we did— Knox and I, Malcolm and I, all of us —we performed this endless dance of almost but not quite, of maybe but not now, of love that wasn't enough to overcome fear. I bet it would be no different with Adyani if she was here like them.

All the same…

But goodness hell, I was tired of dancing.

So fucking tired.

I thought about Alessandro's eyes through the glass, real or imagined, and wondered what had become of the boy who'd been brave enough to speak his want without apology. Had seventeen years taught him to hide too?

Or was he still out there somewhere, taking what he desired without hesitation?

The morning air hit me like a slap when I pushed through the exit doors.

Four-thirty AM in the city, that liminal time when night creatures headed home and day creatures hadn't yet emerged.

I stood there in my sweat-soaked workout clothes, steam rising from my overheated skin in the cool air, and realized I'd left my jacket inside.

I wasn't going back for it.

Let Knox find it later, another reminder of what he kept letting walk away.

My car waited in the empty lot, and I slumped into the driver's seat, finally allowing myself to fully break. The sobs came ugly and raw, twenty years of frustration and want and love with nowhere to go pouring out in the safety of tinted windows.

This was it. The beginning of the end of hoping.

Deep down, this could have been what forty meant—not just the biological deadline society loved to remind me about, but the emotional one too. The point where you stopped waiting for other people to be brave and started accepting that some stories didn't get happy endings.

My phone buzzed. Knox's name on the screen.

I let it ring.

Then Malcolm called.

Then a text from Adyani, somehow perfect timing despite the time difference.

All of them circling, never landing.

“I’m over it,” I whisper. “So fucking over it.”

I started the car, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror.

Makeup destroyed, eyes swollen, every year of my almost-forty existence written clearly across my face.

But underneath the exhaustion and tears, something else flickered.

Resignation.

Something had shifted in that gym, in that moment of brutal honesty with Knox. I was done begging for scraps of affection from men who claimed to love me but couldn't commit to me. Done accepting midnight visits and careful distances and love that only existed in shadows.

If they wanted me, they'd have to fight for me.

And if they didn't?

Well, maybe it was time to stop fighting for them too.

Stop fighting and hell…manifest better.

The drive home blurred past, muscle memory navigating while my mind wandered.

The song that played on the radio reflected on the screen “Where Have You Been: Orchestra Remix”.

It was the first time hearing the emotional rendition.

Slowed and yet so dramatically telling of my circumstances, the tears came falling right at the chorus.

Where have you been all my life? All my life~

Wasn’t that the question I sought for.

The emotion my soul was begging to experience just once in our fated experience.

To be sought for. Yearned for. Craved and shown utmost devotion.

I wanted an Alpha to look at me from a distances, miles away, and yet one look would scream “where have you been all my life?”

A question that didn’t need to be spoken for the world to hear, because everyone in the room would be able to feel it.

That palpable sensation of belonging at the sight of the final puzzle piece desperate to be whole and appreciated in its entirety.

All I ever wanted…was to feel whole, too.

But as I pulled into my parking space, as I climbed the stairs to my empty apartment, as I stood under the scalding shower trying to wash away the morning's humiliation, I couldn't stop thinking about green eyes through glass.

Real or imagined, Alessandro had reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten.

Once upon a time, someone had seen me clearly and wanted me anyway.

No conditions. No hesitation. No needing more time.

Just want, pure and simple and unashamed.

I wondered if that eighteen-year-old boy would be disappointed in the woman I'd become—successful and powerful but ultimately alone, surrounded by men who loved me but not enough to claim me.

"One day, you're going to stop running from what you want."

The water ran cold before I finally stepped out, and I stood naked in front of the mirror, cataloging every sign of age Knox had been too cowardly to acknowledge.

The silver threads in my purple hair. The fine lines around my eyes.

The way my body, despite all the money spent maintaining it, showed the inevitable march of time.

Almost forty.

Almost past my expiration date.

Almost done waiting.

Almost.

But not quite.

Not yet.

Because somewhere in the city, a ghost with green eyes might be more than imagination.

And may I dare envision that twinkle opportunity was worth one more dance.