Page 17 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

Adrian

The inn room smells like cedar and ocean breeze when I push open the door—Declan’s focused energy layered with Reed’s satisfied contentment, both scents competing for space in quarters barely big enough for three large men. Whoever designed this place never worked construction.

You can’t fit three guys this size in a space meant for weekend tourists.

Research papers cover every surface, and Declan prowls behind the desk while Reed perches on the windowsill, phone in hand, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

“Well?” Reed says, setting his phone aside. “How’d it go with our maritime expert? Please tell me you didn’t scare her off with your strong, silent, mysterious craftsman routine.”

I close the door and start peeling off my rain-soaked jacket. The fabric clings to my shoulders, heavy with October storm water and something else—vanilla and sea salt still threading through the wet flannel where Karma pressed against me during that goodbye hug.

The moment I hang my jacket on the door hook, both men go statue-still. Reed’s phone slips in his suddenly loose grip. Declan’s mug hovers forgotten halfway to his mouth, his eyes tracking my movements.

“She attacked me.”

Reed’s grin vanishes like someone cut the power. Declan’s mug hits the desk with a sharp crack, coffee sloshing over insurance photos.

“She what now?” Reed slides off the windowsill, ocean breeze sharpening with alarm. “Define attacked.”

“Tackled me in her front yard. Had me flat on my back in the mud before I could identify myself.” I hang the jacket on the door hook. “Kneed me twice. Good form.”

“Jesus Christ.” Declan resumes pacing, but now his boots hit the floor like hammers. Both hands rake through his damp hair, leaving it disheveled and standing at odd angles. When he speaks again, Boston bleeds through every syllable. “Are you hurt? What the hell happened? Did you do something?—”

“Thought I was a burglar. Dark night, stranger approaching her house.” I settle against the doorframe. “Smart response for a lone omega.”

“Smart?” Reed’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Adrian, there’s reasonable caution and then there’s what sounds suspiciously like omega Special Forces training. Should I be impressed or concerned?”

I nod slowly. Reed’s always been the sharpest at reading the currents beneath surface behavior.

“What happened after?” Declan stops mid-pace, his whole body angled toward me like I might have answers to questions he’s afraid to ask.

“Karma realized who I was. Apologized fifty times like defending herself was inappropriate.” I move to the bed’s edge, facing both of them while I pull a dry shirt from my duffel. “Picked her lock, went inside, talked over coffee.”

“And?” Reed settles against the desk, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the wood .

“She’s been hurt.” The words come out heavier than I intended as I pull the dry shirt over my head. “Recently. By someone she trusted completely.”

Reed leans forward, his natural diplomatic instincts sharpening his focus. “How recently are we talking? Still-bleeding-wounds recent, or scars-that-ache-when-it-rains recent?”

“Recent enough that she lives alone in a house built for a family. Recent enough that she runs a business she loves but can barely afford to keep.” I meet his eyes. “Recent enough that she apologizes for protecting herself.”

Declan stops pacing entirely. His coffee-stained fingers curl around the desk edge until his knuckles go white. “You felt it though. The connection.”

“I felt it.” No point denying what filled the kitchen air between us. “Question is what we do about it, given what she’s survived.”

“What do you mean?” Reed’s fingers still on the desk surface.

“Someone shattered her ability to trust alphas. Her defensive reactions are too practiced, too immediate.” I lean forward, elbows on knees. “And Karma knows something about the compass situation. Something that makes her hands shake when Blake’s name comes up.”

Declan’s breathing goes shallow and controlled, and the cramped room fills with the scent of barely leashed protective fury. “What kind of something?”

“When I mentioned Blake’s name, she went pale. Started asking careful questions about the timeline, about how it disappeared, about Blake specifically.” I pause, watching Declan’s face transform. “Recognition. Anger. Fear.”

Reed goes completely motionless. “You think Karma knows Blake?”

“I think Karma knows something about Blake that she hasn’t told us.” I stand, needing movement as pieces connect in ways that make my chest tight. “We need the real story about how that compass disappeared. Not whatever version Blake fed you.”

Declan resumes pacing, but now his steps eat up the small space like he’s trying to escape his own thoughts. “Blake said someone stole it after he made poor choices?—”

“What if the poor choices involved treating someone badly enough that theft felt like justice?” Reed interrupts. “What if Blake hurt someone so completely that taking something precious seemed fair?”

“How many omegas was Blake seeing before Nova?” I ask, though my gut already knows the answer won’t be simple.

“I don’t know.” Reed’s admission comes out quiet, reluctant. “He’s always been... popular. Said he was searching for his perfect scent match.”

“Reed.” Declan’s voice drops to that dangerous register that means his control is fraying. “Blake doesn’t date. Blake collects. He finds omegas attracted to his alpha energy, strings them along until novelty wears off, then discards them without looking back.”

I straighten from the wall as fury starts building in my chest. “How many do you think he was stringing along simultaneously?”

“I don’t want to know.” But Declan’s voice suggests he’s starting to guess, and he doesn’t like the math.

“Yes, you do. Because if one of those omegas was Karma, if Blake hurt her the way I think he did...” I pull out my phone. “Time to get the truth.”

“He’s still my brother.” The words come out hollow, like Declan’s testing how they sound.

“He’s your brother who potentially destroyed an innocent omega, then manipulated you into cleaning up his mess without explaining what he’d done.” I start dialing. “That’s not family, Declan. That’s exploitation. ”

Reed shifts to the desk edge. “Adrian’s right. If Blake hurt Karma, we need to know. Not just for us, but for her.”

Declan stares at the scattered insurance photos for a long moment, then his chin jerks once in agreement.

I dial Blake’s number and set it to speaker. We gather automatically—Declan hovering behind the desk like a caged animal, Reed gesturing for silence, me standing perfectly still with the phone balanced between us like a live grenade.

Blake answers on the third ring, voice bright as summer morning.

“Adrian! Wasn’t expecting to hear from you. How’s the compass hunt going? Making progress?”

“Slowly.” I keep my voice neutral as granite. “We’re trying to narrow down exactly how it disappeared. Dec mentioned you were dating someone when it went missing?”

“Dating someone?” Blake’s laugh comes through the speaker like nails on glass. “Man, I was exploring my options! You know how it is when you’re looking for your perfect mate—got to be thorough. Test drive a few models to find the right scent match.”

Test drive. Models.

Christ. That’s what you call a car, not a woman. Reed’s pen snaps between his fingers with a sound like breaking bone, and I don’t blame him.

Declan stops breathing entirely, his chest going statue-still. My hands shake with the need to defend someone I barely know but already consider mine to protect.

“How many is a few?” My voice stays level through will alone.

“Oh, you know. Six, maybe seven? Could’ve been eight—honestly, hard to keep track when you’re being systematic about it!

” Blake’s tone suggests he thinks organization makes cruelty acceptable.

“But I kept detailed records. Spreadsheets, photo galleries, scent compatibility ratings, sexual performance metrics. Very thorough approach. ”

Reed’s mouth falls open in horror. Declan’s face drains of color, his grip on the desk edge threatening to crack wood. All those years of cleaning up Blake’s messes, and this is what he was enabling.

“And they all knew about each other?” Reed’s diplomatic training barely keeps his voice level.

“Well, not exactly!” Blake sounds genuinely puzzled by the question.

“I mean, I wasn’t bonded to any of them, so no legal obligation for exclusivity, right?

Each relationship was its own thing. Smart approach—diversifying my portfolio, testing compatibility, making sure I found the absolute best match. Very strategic.”

Declan’s hands curl into fists. “For how long?”

“Most of them for a few months. Had to give each relationship enough time for proper evaluation, you understand. But there was this one omega—wow, what a piece of work she turned out to be.” Blake’s voice takes on that particular tone that makes my teeth clench.

“Auburn hair, worked with antiques or something artsy. Amazing scent match, incredible in bed, but got way too clingy way too fast.”

The room goes dead silent. Declan’s breathing stops entirely. Reed looks like he’s calculating the exact distance to Boston for murder purposes. My hands curl into fists as fury builds like pressure behind a dam.

“Started talking about meeting family, planning bonding ceremonies, acting like we were exclusive when I’d been very clear about my process. Total stage-five clinger behavior. Really obsessive stuff.”

Stage-five clinger. He’s calling Karma obsessive for falling in love.

“What happened with her?” The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass.