Page 57 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

“We suspected,” Dad says grimly. “But Blake always had explanations. And we wanted to believe...”

“We enabled this,” Father says quietly, his voice carrying the weight of honesty that refuses to avoid uncomfortable truths. “Every time we bailed him out, every excuse we accepted, every consequence we helped him avoid.”

“But surely there’s room for forgiveness—” Mom begins.

“Forgiveness is Karma’s choice, not mine. And she’s not required to forgive someone who systematically destroyed her trust.” I stand up, tension coiling between my shoulder blades as I pace to work off the energy. “My job is protecting my pack. Blake doesn’t qualify.”

“This is about more than the compass,” Father observes. “This is about Blake’s pattern. About consequences we should have enforced years ago.”

“Blake’s spent his life skating by on charm and family money. Every mess gets cleaned up. No real consequences.”

“Until now,” Father says quietly, sinking back into his chair as if the weight of realization is too much to bear standing.

“Until now. Karma didn’t just steal a compass—she made Blake face reality. That actions have consequences. That you can’t destroy someone and expect them to quietly disappear.”

A knock at the door interrupts the conversation. All three parents freeze, not expecting anyone else. The sound itself makes every muscle in my body go taut with recognition—confident, entitled, expecting immediate attention.

“You expecting someone?” Dad asks.

“No,” I say, but even as the word leaves my mouth, I’m moving toward the door with growing dread. Because there’s something about that particular knock that makes my chest tighten with certainty about who’s standing in the hallway.

I open the door, and there he is.

Blake Mitchell adjusts his silver cufflinks before the door fully opens, shoulders squared in that particular alpha stance that expects immediate attention.

His expensive suit drapes without a wrinkle.

When he sees me, his smile activates like a switch—white teeth and practiced warmth that’s never quite reached his eyes.

“Dec! There’s my big brother.” Blake moves to step into the room as if he belongs here, and my hands curl into fists at my sides as I force myself not to physically block his path. “Mom texted about a family reunion. Figured I’d surprise everyone.”

“Blake.” I don’t move from the doorway. “Not a good time.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Christmas week, family’s gathering, haven’t seen Mom, Dad, and Father in months.

” Blake’s smile doesn’t waver, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes that suggests he’s already picking up on the tension, his alpha scent carrying notes of confusion beneath practiced confidence.

“Besides, I want to hear about this mysterious bonding ceremony. Mom was pretty vague.”

Behind me, I hear Mom’s sharp intake of breath, Dad’s muttered curse, and Father’s whispered “Oh no.”

Blake doesn’t notice, too focused on pushing his way into what he assumes is a warm family gathering, his restless movements making the doorway seem smaller.

“Seriously, Dec, since when do you plan major life events without telling family? Had to hear about it from Mom’s Facebook, of all things.

” Blake finally pushes past me into the room, his presence disrupting the previously established calm—voice too loud for the space as he gestures with hands that can’t stay still. “So where are Reed and Adrian?”

He stops mid-stride when he sees our parents’ expressions—Mom pale and stricken, Dad wearing the kind of controlled anger that suggests imminent explosion, Father looking as if someone’s just destroyed his favorite research project.

“What?” Blake looks between all of us with growing confusion, his confident posture beginning to falter as he registers the hostile atmosphere. “Why does everyone look as if someone died? ”

“Blake,” I say with restraint, “you need to leave.”

“Leave? I just got here. What the hell’s going on?” Blake sets down his overnight bag with the kind of deliberate movement that suggests he’s not planning to go anywhere. “Mom, Dad, Father, what’s he not telling me?”

“Blake, honey,” Mom starts, but her voice wavers with the weight of what she’s just learned.

“The compass,” Father says bluntly. “We were discussing the compass you lost.”

Blake’s expression shifts immediately, charm faltering as defensive calculation takes over. “Oh. That. Look, I’ve been tracking it down. Got some leads.”

“We found it,” I interrupt.

“That’s great news!” Blake’s mask slips entirely, revealing the panic underneath.

“Found it because I tracked down the omega who stole it.”

Blake’s face cycles through panic, calculation, and forced confidence. “Karma.” He finally connects the dots.

“Karma,” I reply.

“Look, Dec, whatever version she gave you is total fiction. She’s trying to make herself look like the victim when she’s the one who stole from our family. She called me weeks ago, completely unhinged, making all these crazy accusations about performance metrics. Pure fantasy.”

“Performance metrics,” Father repeats slowly, his voice going deadly quiet.

“She’s a pathological liar,” Blake continues desperately. “Had a complete mental breakdown when our casual relationship ended. Started seeing conspiracies everywhere, making up stories about spreadsheets and multiple relationships. You have to understand, she had a total psychological break?—”

“Blake,” I say, my voice cutting through his lies like a blade. “I’ve seen the spreadsheets.”

The color drains from his face so completely he looks gray. “ That’s—she’s been manipulating you. Those don’t exist. She probably made fake?—”

“I’ve seen the emails. The hotel receipts. The photos.” My voice gets harder with each word. “Six to eight omegas simultaneously. Performance ratings. Scent compatibility scores.”

Blake’s mouth opens and closes twice without sound while our parents watch his face cycle through denial, recognition, and growing panic. “Karma is?—”

“The woman who’s now my bonded mate.”

The silence that follows could cut glass. Blake stares at me as if I’ve just spoken in ancient Greek, his brain clearly struggling to process what I’ve just said.

“Your... bonded mate,” Blake repeats slowly, the words coming out strangled.

“Bonded. Claimed. Permanently connected.” I step closer, letting my alpha energy carry the weight of absolute certainty, strong enough to make him flinch. “The woman you threw away like garbage is now the center of my pack.”

Blake’s whole confident act just crumbles. “You can’t be serious. Dec, she’s manipulating you! She probably targeted you specifically because you’re my brother. She’s not even worth a permanent commitment. This is all some elaborate revenge plot?—”

“She’s what?” Father asks dangerously. “Not worth permanent commitment? Not deserving of honesty? Not good enough for a Mitchell?”

“That’s not what I meant?—”

“That’s exactly what you meant. Exactly how you treated her.” I move closer, jaw clenching so hard I can hear my teeth grinding. “Made her believe she wasn’t worth keeping promises to. Made her think she was the problem when you couldn’t stop chasing other omegas.”

“Dec, you don’t get it—things got complicated. She wanted things I wasn’t ready for. And when she found out about the others, she completely lost it. Started making all these accusations?—”

“Started telling the truth,” Father corrects coldly. “Started calling out systematic emotional abuse.”

Blake’s head swivels between our parents as if he’s watching a tennis match, his practiced smile flickering on and off as he searches their faces for any sign of the automatic support that’s always been there before.

“Mom, Dad, Father, you have to understand—I never meant for things to get complicated. Karma was just one option among many. I was being smart, strategic about finding the right mate?—”

“Like the values we raised you with?” Dad asks. “Like honesty? Like fidelity? Like basic respect for omega autonomy?”

“It’s not that simple?—”

“It’s exactly that simple,” I interrupt. “You made promises you didn’t mean. You lied for months. You broke every rule of decent omega treatment that these three taught us and acted surprised when there were consequences.”

“But taking the compass?—”

“Was the only power she had when you held all the cards. Think she should’ve just quietly disappeared? Let you move on without consequences?”

Blake’s practiced charm is completely gone now, replaced by something that looks like genuine panic.

His alpha scent goes thin and defensive while mine strengthens with territorial certainty, the room’s atmosphere shifting as dominance hierarchies rearrange themselves around truth instead of manipulation.

Father moves closer to Blake. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? To that woman? To this family? To the values we tried to instill in you?”

“She stole from our family. From our heritage. You can’t just?— ”

“I can do whatever I want. My life, my pack, my choice.” I cross my arms, letting him see exactly how unmoved I am by his distress. “And I choose Karma. I choose the woman you were too stupid to value.”

“But the ceremony—I’m family. You can’t exclude family from something this important.”

“Watch me.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge. Blake looks between me and our parents, clearly expecting intervention, support, some kind of family loyalty that will override what he’s starting to realize is permanent exclusion.

“James?” Mom asks quietly.

Dad’s eyes move between us as if he’s weighing evidence in a business deal—taking in my squared shoulders and honest expression, then Blake’s defensive posture and fidgeting hands. His jaw sets with the kind of finality that’s closed million-dollar negotiations.

“We support Declan,” Dad says firmly, his voice carrying absolute certainty.

Father nods slowly, his academic mind clearly having processed all the available evidence. “Every time we enabled Blake’s behavior, we made this outcome more likely. We bear responsibility for not stopping this pattern years ago.”

“And Blake?” Mom asks, hands pressing against her heart.

“Blake faces the consequences of his choices,” Father says with quiet finality. “Actions have results. Some results can’t be fixed with apologies or family money.”

Blake stares at our parents as if he’s never seen them before, his confident stance completely dissolved. “Dad, Father, you can’t be serious. She’s just?—”

“She’s just what?” Father asks dangerously, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that could destroy academic careers. “Just the woman your brother loves? Just someone who deserves better than your treatment? Just an omega who figured out consequences when no one else would make them?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Blake says desperately, hands reaching out in pleading gestures that find no receptive audience. “Things just got complicated?—”

“Things got complicated because you made them complicated. Because you chose lies instead of honesty about what you wanted.” I move toward the door, done with this conversation and ready to get back to my pack. “Had months to choose her. You chose everyone else instead. Now you live with that.”

“Declan, wait?—”

“No.” I turn back one last time, letting him see exactly how final this is. “You’re not invited. You’re not welcome around my pack. You’re not part of this celebration. And if you try to show up anyway, if you do anything to make Karma feel unsafe, I will personally remove you from this town.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Try me.”

I head for the door, pausing only to address our parents. “Mom, Dad, Father, you want to meet my pack, be part of the ceremony, you’re welcome. Blake isn’t part of that invitation. Not now, not ever.”

“Declan,” Mom calls as I reach the threshold. “What about Christmas? What about family?”

“My family will be at the lighthouse Christmas Eve, making promises to love and protect each other for the rest of our lives. You’re all welcome.” I look directly at Blake, whose face goes slack with disbelief, mouth still open on unspoken protests. “Some people aren’t.”

I close the door on Blake’s shocked expression and my parents’ determined faces—Mom’s hand pressed against her heart, Dad standing with shoulders set in that particular way that means a decision has been made and won’t be reconsidered, and Father looking like someone who’s finally seen the full scope of a failure he should have caught years ago.

Tension finally bleeds from my shoulders as I head downstairs.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Reed: How’d it go with the parents?

I type back quickly.

Me: Blake showed up. Found out about Karma. Lost his mind. Parents choosing sides. Drama complete.

Reed: Jesus. You okay?

Me: Better than okay. On my way home to pack.

Because that’s what I have now. Not just parents who might or might not support my choices, not just a brother who’s finally facing consequences, but home. Pack. Chosen family who value the same things I do.

I walk back toward Karma’s house—our house—where vanilla and sea salt wait to welcome me home, where Reed’s probably planning elaborate ceremony logistics with diplomatic precision, where Adrian’s building something beautiful with his thoughtful hands.

Where the woman Blake threw away is building a life worthy of everything good I can give her.

Blake was right about one thing, actions have consequences.

Sometimes those consequences are exactly what everyone deserves.