Page 31 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

Karma

Oh God, there are footsteps outside my door.

My hands shake as I pull the fabric tighter.

“They’re right outside and I’m practically naked and probably smell like.

.. like satisfied omega and bad decisions, and they caught us and what are they going to think?

That I’m some kind of omega who just throws herself at the first beta who shows up with decent organizational skills and a rescue complex?

Reed, I can’t even look at them, this is so embarrassing, like seventeen different levels of mortifying?—”

“Hey.” Reed’s voice cuts through my spiral, steady and anchoring, his hand stroking through my hair.

“Deep breaths. There’s nothing wrong with what we did, and there’s definitely nothing to be ashamed of.

Though I have to say, decent organizational skills might be the most unique compliment I’ve ever received. ”

“Can we come in?” Declan’s voice is careful, controlled, but I can hear the edge underneath—protective concern mixed with something that makes my pulse skip. “Or should we stand out here making awkward small talk about the weather while you two figure out how clothes work?”

I tug Reed’s shirt more securely around myself, fabric bunching in my fists as I try to achieve some semblance of dignity.

“Yes,” I manage, voice barely above a whisper. “But if anyone makes fun of my nest-building skills, I’m going to die of embarrassment, and you’ll have to explain to the authorities why there’s a mortified omega in your general vicinity.”

The door opens slowly, and Adrian steps in first, those storm-gray eyes immediately cataloguing everything—the rearranged office, my hastily constructed nest, the way I’m curled against Reed among rumpled fabric and scattered clothes.

His expression doesn’t change, but his posture settles into an alertness that makes my ribs loosen despite the mortification.

“Pre-heat,” he says simply, and it’s not a question. “Good instincts. Solid structural integrity on the nest.”

Then Declan steps through the door, and his scent hits me like someone just opened a window during a thunderstorm—all that rain-soaked wood making my mouth water in ways that would be embarrassing to explain to a medical professional.

My breath hitches like someone yanked a rope tight around my ribs. The shop napkin I’ve been unconsciously shredding falls from suddenly numb fingers. When I try to focus on Declan’s face, the edges blur like I’m looking through water.

The satisfied contentment Reed created transforms into hunger—my body recognizing what it needs and demanding closer, now, more .

“Jesus Christ,” Declan breathes, his boot stopping mid-step on the threshold. His hand grips the doorframe hard enough that his knuckles go white. “Karma, your scent just—fuck, that’s intense.”

He moves closer, and my breath catches as his fingers brush my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. The simple touch sends electricity down my spine, and suddenly I can’t remember why I was nervous.

“Something’s happening.” Reed’s hand finds mine, thumb brushing across my knuckles as my pulse jumps beneath his touch. “It’s different now, more intense—” I can’t finish because he’s moved closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“You just shifted into the next phase,” Reed explains, though his voice sounds distant through the haze building behind my eyes. “Think of it as your body’s very enthusiastic way of saying mission accomplished, now let’s get to the good part.”

That restless energy is back, except now it’s laser-focused on getting closer to these alphas, and rational thought is apparently the first casualty because I’m pretty sure I just mentally catalogued three different ways to climb Declan like a tree.

Every instinct I have screams to get closer to Declan, to that rain-and-wood scent that’s making my thighs clench and liquid heat gather low in my belly despite my embarrassment.

“This is moving fast,” Adrian observes, settling carefully on the edge of my nest space like he’s approaching a spooked animal. “Your body doesn’t wait for convenient timing.”

“Too fast,” I whisper, but even as I say it, I’m shifting restlessly against Reed, betraying the words as heat builds under my skin.

Sweat beads along my hairline despite the October chill.

“We should—there are things we need to talk about first—important things that are really, really important and probably life-altering?—”

“What things?” Declan asks, finally stepping fully into the office. “Because if there’s something we need to discuss, now’s the time. Before your body makes talking impossible and we’re all just operating on instinct and pheromones.”

“Before I can’t think straight anymore,” I finish, because the haze is getting stronger with each breath of their combined scents.

“Before pre-heat becomes full heat and I turn into one of those omegas who can only communicate in desperate whimpering and really embarrassing requests for more alpha attention?—”

“Then talk to us,” Adrian says quietly, his presence grounding even as it adds to the scent cocktail making my heartbeat stutter and my breathing go shallow. “What’s weighing on you?”

My chest constricts like someone’s sitting on it as the confession builds behind my lips. This is it. The moment that will either destroy everything or finally set me free.

“Okay, so this is going to sound really bad, and you’re probably going to hate me, but I can’t keep lying to you, especially not when you’re about to see me at my most vulnerable and pathetic, so here goes nothing—” The words pour out in a rush, panic making me talk faster than my brain can process.

“The compass, Blake’s compass that you’re looking for?

I know where it is because—because I’m the one who took it.

I stole it. Three months ago I just—I was so angry and hurt and I wanted him to lose something precious like he made me lose everything that mattered to me, and I know that makes me a terrible person but?—”

The silence that follows feels like the world holding its breath. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the anger, the disappointment, the inevitable moment when they realize what kind of person they’ve gotten involved with.

Instead, Declan says quietly, “You stole it.”

I force my eyes open, expecting disgust. Instead, his expression looks almost... relieved? Like I just confirmed what he already suspected rather than delivered devastating news.

“When I found out about the other women, when I realized he’d been lying to me about everything and treating me like some sort of romantic placeholder while he shopped for upgrades.

” The words pour out faster now, the dam finally broken.

“I was packing my things from his place and I saw it sitting on his nightstand. I was just—I was so destroyed, like completely emotionally obliterated, and I wanted him to feel even a tiny bit of what he’d done to me. ”

I take a shaking breath, the confession tearing itself from my throat like broken glass.

“So I took it. Sold it to Sage Morrison for twelve hundred dollars and didn’t care where it went as long as Blake never got it back.”

Tears burn behind my eyes, spilling over as guilt and fear and approaching heat crash through me in waves that make my whole body shake. My voice cracks as the full weight of my deception hits me.

“I’ve been lying to you every single day since you walked into my shop.

Helping you look for something I’m the reason you lost, pretending I don’t know anything when I know everything, being the worst kind of person who takes your trust and your care and your alpha protection while actively deceiving you about the most important thing?—”

“Karma.” Declan’s voice cuts through my spiral, and when I look up through tears, his expression is gentle instead of angry. “We know.”

“You—what? You know? You’ve known this whole time and you still—but that means you let me torture myself with guilt while you already knew, which is either really kind or mildly sadistic, and I can’t tell which?—”

“We figured it out,” Reed says. “Timeline, dealer knowledge, your reaction every time Blake’s name came up. Also, the way you steered us away from certain people at that auction? That wasn’t just expertise, that was personal experience.”

My omega hindbrain reels, trying to process this impossible gift.

They knew. They’ve known, and they stayed.

They knew and they still look at me like I matter.

“Blake’s ex-girlfriend who got too attached,” Adrian adds quietly, darkness threading through his voice. “Who wanted unreasonable things like honesty and commitment. Who had an emotional breakdown when she discovered his performance metrics spreadsheet.”

“Performance metrics,” I repeat faintly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “He actually called it that. Like I was a product he was reviewing for potential purchase.”

“He rated you,” Declan’s voice goes flat, dangerous. “He kept fucking spreadsheets rating omegas like cars he was test-driving. And then he called you clingy for wanting basic relationship honesty.”

My shoulders drop so suddenly my neck cracks. The breath I release shakes like I’ve been underwater, and when I try to sit up straighter, my muscles feel liquid, boneless, like I’ve been carrying concrete blocks and someone finally lifted them away.

They know. They know everything—about Blake, about the compass, about what kind of person I really am—and they’re still here. Still looking at me like I’m worth their time.

“You knew and you still—but why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me keep lying and feeling terrible about it?”

“Because trust can’t be demanded,” Reed says. “It has to be offered freely. You needed to feel safe enough to give it to us, not cornered into confessing.”