Page 48 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

That word lands like a slap. I see Knox flinch, see Malcolm's jaw tighten, see Adyani's fingers curl around rose stems tight enough to draw blood from thorns.

"But near-death experiences have a way of clarifying priorities.

" I straighten, letting strength replace the false vulnerability.

"I'm thirty-nine years old. I'll be forty in mere months.

According to traditional omega biology, I'm past my prime.

According to societal expectations, I should be grateful for any attention, any affection, any scrap of recognition that comes my way. "

A few omegas in the audience nod, recognizing their own experiences in my words.

"I reject that narrative." The words ring out clear and sharp. "I reject the idea that omega worth diminishes with age. That our bodies become less deserving of pleasure, our hearts less worthy of genuine love, our futures less bright because we've passed some arbitrary expiration date."

I click the remote again, displaying medical charts—anonymized but clearly showing improvement in omega health metrics.

"Recent medical interventions have shown that with proper care, with pack support, with biological harmony, omegas can thrive well into their fifties. Even pregnancy remains viable with appropriate medical supervision and pack bonding that provides necessary hormonal support."

Another reporter raises her hand, practically vibrating with the need to ask about my personal situation. I hold up one finger—wait.

"Which is why I've decided to take a temporary leave of absence from day-to-day operations."

The explosion of voices is immediate. Questions shouted over each other, cameras clicking like automatic weapons, bodies pressing forward as if proximity will provide answers. I stand perfectly still, waiting for the chaos to exhaust itself.

Marina steps forward from the wings, her presence enough to restore marginal order.

"Please," I say once the volume drops to manageable levels. "I'll address your concerns, but first, you deserve to know who will be supporting me during this transition."

This is it. The moment where everything changes.

I look directly at Knox, at Malcolm, at Adyani. Their faces are studies in barely contained hope, bodies coiled with anticipation of being called forward, of being claimed publicly after twenty years of shadows.

"The pack I've chosen—or rather, who chose me when I was incapable of choosing myself—has shown me what genuine care looks like.

They signed papers when I was dying. They fought for my medical care when bureaucracy would have let me rot.

They've spent every moment since my recovery showing me what I was missing while accepting crumbs disguised as feasts. "

My voice carries over the crowd's murmuring, each word precise as a surgical cut.

"The Noctuary Larissa Organization has graciously agreed to not only support the Haven expansion but to provide ongoing security for all locations. Their pack has officially claimed me, and I've accepted that claim with enthusiasm I didn't know I was still capable of feeling."

The ripple of shock that goes through Knox, Malcolm, and Adyani is visible even from the stage.

Knox's face drains of color, his hands gripping the edge of his seat.

Malcolm's medical bag falls from nerveless fingers, pills rattling against the marble floor.

Adyani's roses tumble from her lap, white petals scattering like surrender flags.

"Before I announce my pack formally, there's one other matter that requires addressing.

" I grip the podium harder, feeling my knuckles white beneath skin.

"The bombing that nearly killed me wasn't random.

It wasn't infrastructure failure or unfortunate timing. It was targeted. Deliberate. Personal."

Every eye in the room locks onto me. The cameras zoom closer, their mechanical eyes hungry for revelation.

"The police investigation yielded no results, they claimed.

Too much destruction, too much water damage, too many variables to determine culpability.

" I pause, letting that sink in. "But my pack has resources beyond traditional law enforcement.

They've uncovered truths that would have remained buried if not for their dedication to justice. "

My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat a countdown to detonation.

"Knox. Adyani. Malcolm." I gesture to them, my hand steady despite the earthquake in my chest. "Would you please join me on stage?"

The confusion that flashes across their faces might be comical in other circumstances.

Knox rises first, probably from muscle memory of following my requests.

Adyani follows, gathering her fallen roses with hands that shake slightly.

Malcolm retrieves his medical bag, the doctor in him unable to leave it behind even now.

They climb the steps slowly, and I can see them trying to piece together this puzzle. Knox reaches me first, moving to touch my arm in that casual possessive way he never quite stopped despite our distance. I step back, maintaining professional space, and his hand falls to his side.

They arrange themselves beside me, and I can smell their combined scents—smoke and cedar, saffron and roses, eucalyptus and mint. Once upon a time, those scents meant safety. Now they just smell like betrayal wearing familiar cologne.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I say, turning back to the audience while keeping them in my peripheral vision.

"I'd like to introduce you to three individuals who've been integral to my life for the past twenty years.

Knox, who owns the gym where many of our Haven residents train in self-defense.

Princess Adyani, whose international connections have provided sanctuary for omegas fleeing across borders.

And Dr. Malcolm Hayes, whose medical expertise has saved countless omega lives. "

Applause starts, scattered and confused, because surely there's more to this story. There is.

"They've been constant presences in my journey.

Supporters of the movement. Partners in various capacities.

" I pause, feeling the weight of the next words gathering in my throat.

"They've also had numerous opportunities to step forward, to claim me, to offer the protection and recognition that every omega deserves from those who profess to love them. "

The applause dies entirely. The room holds its breath.

"Twenty years of opportunities. Including the six hours I lay dying in a German hospital, requiring pack authorization for surgery that would prevent paralysis.

Six hours where they debated, discussed, deliberated while my body shut down.

Six hours that might have been my last if not for the intervention of strangers who saw my worth when those who claimed to love me couldn't sign their names. "

Knox makes a sound—protest or pain, I neither know nor care. Malcolm's hand moves toward me, then stops as he realizes the cameras are capturing everything. Adyani stands frozen, those carefully cultivated royal mannerisms cracking like ice in spring.

"But even that abandonment pales in comparison to what my pack's investigation uncovered."

I turn to face them fully now, these three pillars of my past who are about to become rubble.

"You see, the bombing wasn't random. The location wasn't coincidence.

The timing wasn't unfortunate." My voice remains steady despite the tsunami building in my chest. "Everything was orchestrated with precision that required inside knowledge.

Knowledge of my schedule. My route. My driver's patterns. My vulnerabilities."

Malcolm's bag hits the floor again. This time, bottles shatter, spreading medication across marble like confetti made of chemistry.

"The police couldn't find evidence because they weren't looking in the right places. They didn't have access to private communications. Encrypted messages. Financial transfers routed through shell companies that took considerable resources to unravel."

I pull the small remote from my pocket—not for the presentation screen, but for something else entirely. One click, and the screen behind us illuminates with evidence. Bank statements. Text messages. Email chains. Each one timestamped, authenticated, undeniable.

"Three months ago, payments began flowing from accounts linked to your names to an organization known for its.

.. aggressive stance against omega independence.

" I watch their faces cycle through shock, denial, and the dawning horror of recognition.

"Fifty thousand from Knox's gym expansion fund.

Thirty thousand from Malcolm's research grants.

And seventy-five thousand from Adyani's diplomatic accounts. "

"That's not—" Knox starts, but I continue over his protest.

"Six weeks ago, detailed discussions about the 'omega problem' and how to 'maintain traditional pack structures' appeared in encrypted communications between the three of you and known extremist elements. Including specific mentions of needing to 'remove obstacles to natural order.'"

"Velvet, please—" Adyani's voice cracks, her royal composure shattering entirely.

"Two weeks before the bombing, Malcolm's medical credentials were used to obtain specific sedatives. The same sedatives found in my system after the explosion. Sedatives that would have ensured I couldn't escape even if I'd noticed the danger."

The crowd has become a living thing, breathing in unified shock, their collective horror warming the room despite the aggressive air conditioning.

"And then there's this." I click again, and the screen displays a single message. From Knox's confirmed number to an unlisted contact: "She's entering the city now. Downtown route as expected. Make it look random."

The silence that follows is absolute. Even breathing seems to have stopped, the entire room frozen in this moment before everything changes.

I turn back to the audience, to the cameras that will broadcast this moment across the world, to the future that starts with this revelation.

"Introducing..." My voice carries clear and strong, no tremor despite the magnitude of what I'm about to do. I gesture to the three people standing beside me, their faces masks of dawning horror as they realize the trap has already closed.

"The men who plotted my murder."