Page 47 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)
THE RECKONING
~VELVET~
T he conference hall thrums with anticipation thick enough to taste—metallic like blood before a storm.
Three hundred bodies packed into a space designed for two hundred, their collective breathing creating its own weather system beneath crystal chandeliers that cost more than most people's annual salaries.
Cameras line every wall, their red recording lights creating a constellation of surveillance that would have terrified me once.
Now I find it fitting.
The mahogany podium waits at center stage, polished to mirror perfection, microphones clustered like metal flowers hungry for secrets.
Behind it, a projection screen displays the Haven's logo—a phoenix rising from stylized flames, wings spread in defiance.
The irony isn't lost on me that I'm about to burn everything down while standing beneath that symbol.
My dress is calculated perfection—deep burgundy that photographs beautifully, conservative enough for respectability but fitted enough to remind everyone I'm still very much a woman.
The Hermès scarf at my throat, patterned with golden leaves, conceals the fading marks from my pack's enthusiasm.
My silver hair is pulled into an elegant chignon that took Alexis forty minutes to perfect this morning, every strand strategically placed for maximum impact.
"Two minutes," Marina whispers from my left, her tablet clutched like armor against the chaos brewing. She's been my secretary for seven years, has seen me through every crisis, but even she doesn't know what's coming.
I scan the assembled crowd from my position at the side entrance.
Government officials in suits that scream taxpayer funding.
Omega rights activists in designer protest wear.
Medical professionals with their white coats worn like capes.
And there, in the front row exactly where I knew they'd position themselves—my past wearing hope like cologne.
Knox sits ramrod straight in a charcoal suit I've never seen him wear.
His silver hair is slicked back, grey eyes fixed on the podium with an intensity that suggests he's manifesting my appearance through sheer will.
His hands rest on his thighs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches and releases in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat.
Beside him, Adyani is resplendent in a cream pantsuit that makes her skin glow like burnished gold.
She's completed her transition beautifully—softer features, longer hair that falls in waves past her shoulders, but still carrying that regal bearing that once commanded kingdoms. The roses in her hand—white, because she knows red reminds me of blood—rest in her lap like an offering to gods who've already chosen sides.
Malcolm occupies the aisle seat, and the calculation in that placement isn't subtle.
Positioned for quick access to the stage, to me, to whatever fantasy he's constructed about this moment.
His navy suit is impeccable, his medical bag at his feet because he never goes anywhere without it, and his midnight eyes track every movement in my peripheral vision like he's taking my pulse from twenty feet away.
They're all watching the stage with the kind of anticipation that borders on desperation.
They think I've summoned them here for reconciliation.
They think the three days of silence since Knox showed up at the cottage was strategic rather than necessary.
They think they're about to win.
"Ms. Morclair?" Marina touches my elbow gently. "It's time."
I straighten my shoulders, feeling the weight of the recording device tucked against my ribs—Alessandro's insurance policy, though he doesn't know I know about it. My pack is nothing if not thorough in their protection.
Speaking of my pack, I glance toward the back of the room where they've positioned themselves.
Not hiding, but not claiming spotlight either.
Alessandro leans against the wall in a black suit that makes him look like elegant death, those emerald eyes tracking me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench involuntarily.
The twins flank him—Dante in burgundy that matches my dress, Damon in forest green that brings out the gold in their hazel eyes.
And Alexis, my beautiful femme fatale in a structured blazer that manages to be both masculine and devastatingly feminine, offers me the slightest nod.
We're here. You're safe. Destroy them.
The walk to the podium feels both endless and instant. My heels—Louboutin, because if you're going to destroy lives you should do it in excellent shoes—click against marble with metronomic precision. Conversations fade to whispers, then to silence as I ascend the three steps to the stage.
The lights are blinding for a moment, transforming the audience into shadows and suggestions. I grip the podium's edges, feeling the wood's grain beneath my fingers, grounding myself in this moment that's been three days in the making.
Three days since Alessandro revealed what his investigation uncovered.
Three days since my world tilted off its axis and reorganized around a truth so devastating I'd vomited for an hour after hearing it.
Three days to plan this moment with the precision of a military operation.
"Good afternoon." My voice carries without effort, years of public speaking having trained my projection. "Thank you all for attending on such short notice. I know many of you traveled considerable distances to be here, and that dedication to our cause doesn't go unnoticed."
Polite applause ripples through the crowd. I wait for it to settle, using the pause to make eye contact with specific individuals. The major donors who need to feel seen. The activists who require acknowledgment. The media who hunger for soundbites.
And them. Always them, sitting there like they own pieces of my future.
"As you're all aware, recent events have created speculation about both my personal circumstances and the future of the Haven movement.
" I shuffle the papers I don't need, the gesture calculated to seem nervous when really I'm savoring the anticipation.
"Today, I'm here to address those concerns directly and transparently. "
Someone coughs. A phone buzzes and is quickly silenced. The air conditioning hums its white noise symphony while three hundred people hold their breath.
"First, regarding the expansion of our Haven network.
" The projection screen behind me shifts to display architectural renders—beautiful sanctuaries disguised as ordinary buildings.
"Thanks to recent generous investments from multiple benefactors, including several who wish to remain anonymous, we're pleased to announce the establishment of ten new Haven locations. "
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Ten is ambitious. Ten is impossible. Ten is exactly what Alessandro's money and the twins' connections made achievable in seventy-two hours.
"These locations will span major cities and rural areas alike, creating a network of safety that doesn't discriminate based on geography or population density.
" I click the remote, showing a map dotted with strategic points.
"The exact addresses will remain confidential to prevent targeting, but our screening process for resident acceptance has been streamlined to ensure no omega in crisis waits longer than forty-eight hours for sanctuary. "
A reporter's hand shoots up, but I continue without acknowledging it. This isn't the Q&A portion yet, and maintaining control of the narrative is essential.
"The government has pledged full support for this expansion.
" Another click, showing official documentation with enough seals and signatures to make bureaucrats weep.
"Including expedited licensing, tax exemptions, and a guarantee of non-interference in our operations as long as we maintain compliance with basic safety regulations. "
More murmuring, excited this time. Several phones appear, typing furiously to be first with the breaking news. I can see headlines forming in real-time: REBEL QUEEN EXPANDS EMPIRE OF SAFETY.
If only they knew what other empire was about to fall.
"These achievements wouldn't have been possible without our supporters, both old and new.
" I pause, letting my gaze sweep the room before landing deliberately on Knox, then Adyani, then Malcolm.
Each makes eye contact, and I see hope bloom in their expressions like flowers that don't know winter's coming.
"Change requires sacrifice," I continue, my voice softening into something that might be mistaken for vulnerability. "It requires courage to stand against systems designed to suppress us. It requires partners willing to fight alongside us when the battle seems impossible."
Adyani sits forward slightly, the roses lifting from her lap. Knox's hands clench and unclench on his thighs. Malcolm's fingers twitch toward his medical bag like he's preparing to tend wounds I haven't revealed yet.
"Which brings me to a more personal announcement."
The room goes silent enough to hear heartbeats. Even the air conditioning seems to pause, waiting.
"Many of you have speculated about my recent... change in circumstances. The bombing incident that nearly claimed my life brought certain truths into sharp focus. When you're drowning in dark water, watching your life become memory, you realize what matters. Who matters."
I touch the scarf at my throat, a gesture that looks nervous but actually ensures the recording device is still functioning. Alessandro's paranoia serving its purpose.
"I've spent twenty years building this movement, saving others while ignoring my own needs. Accepting situationships that offered fragments instead of fulfillment. Hiding essential parts of myself to make others comfortable with their cowardice."