Page 3 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

Karma

Twenty-three dollars and forty-seven cents in crumpled bills scatter across Grandma Rose’s oak counter like evidence of my spectacular financial failure.

I’m smoothing out a five-dollar bill that looks like it survived a washing machine when the shop door slams open hard enough to make the antique ship’s bell sound like it’s having a nervous breakdown.

“Where is he?” Destiny storms past my Victorian furniture display like she’s leading a one-woman army, coffee-stained apron still tied around her waist because apparently she dropped everything to stage this intervention.

Her dark eyes scan my shop like she expects to find threats lurking behind the armoire.

“Where’s the bastard who hurt you? Because I just closed up early and I am ready to commit violence. ”

I look up from my pathetic pile of small bills. “What are you?—”

“Don’t.” She plants her hands on her hips, positions herself squarely between me and the door like she’s prepared to bodily prevent anyone from getting to me.

Her winged eyeliner looks sharp enough to cut glass when she’s in full protective mode.

“You texted me I think I’m in trouble, big trouble and karma might be real and then go radio silent for two hours.

I’ve been stress-cleaning my espresso machine and planning seventeen different ways to hide a body. ”

“Destiny, it’s not?—”

“Nope.” One perfectly manicured hand cuts through the air.

She takes a delicate sniff, and her spine goes rigid.

Without a word, she shrugs off her cardigan and drapes it around my shoulders, wrapping me in warmth that smells like home.

“We’re not doing this where tourists might wander in.

Lock up. We’re walking, and you’re talking. ”

I know better than to argue when Destiny gets like this. I sweep the bills into the register, grab my jacket, and flip the wooden sign to CLOSED.

“It’s really not that dramatic,” I try as the key turns in the lock.

“Bullshit.” Her hand finds the small of my back, thumb rubbing small circles I didn’t know I needed. My breathing evens out despite the disaster spiraling through my head. “Start talking.”

We head down Main Street toward the harbor. She moves to my left side automatically, positioning herself between me and the street. The protective gesture makes something tight in my chest loosen.

“A customer came in today,” I start.

“Good customer or bad customer?”

“Complicated customer.”

She moves closer, her hand finding my elbow with that protective grip that always makes my breathing even out. “Honey, I don’t do complicated when it comes to people messing with you. It’s either good or I’m getting my baseball bat.”

I take a breath that tastes like salt air and courage I don’t have. “Remember Blake?”

Destiny stops walking so abruptly her sneakers squeak on the cobblestones. When I turn around, her expression shifts from protective to murderous. Her dark hair with its seasonal auburn highlights catches the light, and burnt espresso radiates from her like a warning signal.

“Blake? Blake as in your narcissistic cheating ex-boyfriend Blake? Blake as in the pendejo who makes me want to commit actual murder Blake?”

“That’s the one.”

“What the hell does that snake have to do with anything? Please tell me he didn’t show up at your shop, because I swear to God, Karma, I will—” then under her breath, “I look terrible in orange.”

“Not Blake.” I start walking again because standing still makes my skin crawl. “Blake’s brother.”

“Blake has a brother?” She catches up, moving like she’s herding me toward safety. “And let me guess—he’s just as much of a piece of shit as Blake?”

“Actually...” I twist my vintage bracelet until the chain bites into my wrist. “He seems really nice. Gorgeous, cedar-scented alpha who does historic preservation and looks at me like I might be something special. His name is Declan.” Not to mention that one whiff of his scent felt like coming home.

Her energy settles slightly, confusion replacing the immediate murder vibes. “Okay, back up. Hot alpha who thinks you’re amazing sounds like the opposite of a problem. Why are we in crisis mode?”

“Because he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

Here it is. The moment where my ride-or-die best friend finds out exactly how badly I screwed up.

I stop walking and turn to face her on the harbor overlook. “Blake’s family heirloom. A maritime compass that’s been in their family for five generations and is supposed to be part of Blake’s bonding ceremony this winter.”

Destiny’s eyes narrow to dark slits, and cinnamon sharpens with laser focus. “Okay, and this is relevant to you, how exactly?”

The words stick in my throat like peanut butter mixed with shame and panic. “Because I stole it.”

And there it is. The moment my best friend finds out I’m not just dramatic—I’m actually a criminal.

“Three months ago. When I was packing my stuff from Blake’s place, I saw it sitting on his nightstand, and I was so angry and hurt and I just...” My voice trails off because Destiny’s expression is changing, shifting from confusion to something else entirely.

For a moment, she just stares at me. Then her face breaks into a slow, vicious smile that transforms her whole appearance. She steps closer, and cinnamon scent wraps around me like armor forged from pure loyalty.

“Good for you, Mija .” Her voice drops to a satisfied purr that vibrates with approval. “That snake finally gets some of what he deserves.”

“Destiny, this isn’t?—”

“No, seriously.” She moves closer until her shoulder touches mine, creating a wall between me and the rest of the world.

“He cheated on you for months while making you believe you were heading toward a bonding ceremony. He made you think there was something wrong with you for being a late bloomer. He destroyed your confidence and then acted like you were the problem when you found out about his cheating.”

“So screw him and screw his family compass. He’s lucky you only took one thing instead of burning his whole apartment down,” she adds with a nod.

“It’s not that simple.” Even as warmth spreads through my chest hearing Destiny defend my moment of petty revenge, my stomach churns. “Declan seems genuinely nice. And this compass... it’s important to their family traditions. ”

“Declan can be a saint for all I care. Blake is still a cheating piece of garbage who gets exactly what he deserves.”

I sink down onto one of the harbor benches.

“There’s more,” I say quietly.

Destiny settles beside me. “How much more are we talking?”

“Declan left his card, said he’d like to come back when he’s not stressed about family drama.

” I grip the bench edge until my knuckles go white.

“I think... I think he’s interested. Like, romantically interested.

I think he could be a scent match. But I was so stressed that I couldn’t think clearly. ”

“Wait, hold up.” She turns to face me fully, her knee bumping mine. “You’re telling me a gorgeous alpha thinks you’re amazing and could be a scent match, Blake’s pack is finally getting some consequences, and you’re treating this like it’s a bad thing? Explain that logic to me.”

“Because I can’t exactly say Hey, remember your cheating brother? Well, funny story, I’m the omega he destroyed, and I stole your family treasure in a fit of righteous fury! That’s not exactly first-date conversation!”

“So don’t tell him. Problem solved.”

I stare at her like she just suggested I take up bank robbery as a hobby. “I can’t just not tell him! What happens when he finds out? And he will find out, because apparently he’s being very thorough?—”

My phone rings.

Sage Morrison’s name flashes on the screen, and the phone slips in my suddenly sweaty palm.

“Oh no,” I whisper.

“Who is it?” Destiny immediately moves closer, her shoulder pressing against mine like she’s trying to shield me from electronic threats.

“Sage. The dealer I sold the compass to.” I stare at the phone like it might spontaneously combust. “She never calls unless there’s a problem. ”

“Answer it.” Destiny shifts until her thigh presses against mine. “I’ll listen.”

I swipe to accept.

“Hi, Sage.”

“Karma, darling.” Sage’s voice has that artificially sweet tone that means someone is about to have a very bad day. “We need to have a little chat.”

“About what?” I press the phone closer to my ear, and Destiny leans in until her temple touches mine.

“About that lovely maritime compass you brought me three months ago. You remember—brass, family inscriptions, very distinctive engravings? The one you were so eager to move quickly and quietly?”

I look at Destiny. She looks at me. Everything moves in slow motion.

The harbor bench suddenly feels unsteady beneath me. Destiny’s hand finds my arm, her grip warm and grounding. My breathing evens out automatically.

“What about it?”

“Well, it seems someone’s been asking very specific questions.

A big alpha with a Boston accent and detailed knowledge about what he’s looking for.

Says his name is Mitchell.” Sage’s pause feels loaded with threat.

“Funny how he knows so much about a piece that’s supposed to disappear quietly into my network. ”

The world decides to cosplay as a tilt-a-whirl again. I’m pretty sure all the blood just evacuated my face and relocated to my feet, and the only thing keeping me from face-planting into the harbor is Destiny’s death grip on my arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sage’s laugh could cut glass. “We both know that’s adorable bullshit. See, when mysterious alphas start asking very specific questions about pieces that are supposed to vanish without a trace, it makes me wonder what other lies my suppliers have been telling me. ”

“Sage, I can explain?—”