Page 128 of Knotted By my Pack

“You know, when your brother stole my mate,” I say, “it wasn’t just the betrayal. It was that he discarded her like trash afterward. Used her to win some pissing match with you, then walked away. And then your family buried it. Pretended like it never mattered. I hated him for that. Still do.”

“I know.”

“And you?” I ask. “You were never any better. Vance developers destroyed half the coastal wetlands to build those luxury towers. You paved over nesting grounds. Polluted the bay with runoff. I chained myself to a bulldozer one summer. Your company had me arrested.”

His mouth tugs at something close to regret. “I remember. You spat in my face.”

“Felt good.”

“I deserved worse.”

“Yeah. You did.”

He nods. Drains the last of his coffee, shoulders sagging now like the caffeine took what little strength he had left.

“So what should we do?” he asks.

I study him for a long moment. Then push off the counter.

“You? You’re still drunk.”

He lifts a brow but doesn’t argue.

“Go crash in the guest room. You’re no good to anyone like this. When you’re sober, we’ll deal with it. But one thing’s non-negotiable.”

He watches me, waiting.

“We tell Cora,” I say. “Before someone else does.”

His mouth parts like he wants to argue. Then he nods again, eyes dark with whatever guilt he’s been carrying since this shitstorm started.

“Yeah. Alright.”

He heads down the hall without another word. Rusty follows him halfway before losing interest.

I stand there a while longer, hands braced on the counter, staring at the dregs of my coffee. Outside, birds cut across the lake, their cries sharp against the quiet.

This isn’t just a cleanup job anymore, and I’m not standing on the sidelines.

The moment Julian passes out in the guest room, I pull out my phone and dial.

The sky’s bright, sunlight slashing through the treetops and casting fractured light across the lake, but the tight knot in my chest is already forming.

Noah picks up on the second ring, voice rough with sleep or something close to it.

“Yeah?”

“Get over here,” I say. “Now. Julian’s here. It’s bad.”

Noah’s quiet for a second. “I’m on my way.”

I put coffee back on the burner and rinse the mugs while I wait, nerves crawling under my skin. Rusty stays close, watching me like he knows the ground’s about to shift.

When Noah’s truck rumbles into the drive, I head out and meet him halfway. His eyes flick over my face, then past me toward the cabin.

“What the hell happened?”

“We’re gonna need more coffee.”