Page 54 of Knotted By my Pack

Cora nods but doesn’t move away from me.

“Thanks,” she tells him.

He looks between us for a beat, then nods and leaves again.

When the door shuts behind him, silence settles. She doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t let go of her.

Her skin is warm. Her lips slightly parted. That little furrow in her brow I’ve always loved is there again, the one she gets when she’s deep in her head.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, watching her too closely. Her fingers tighten around the edge of the counter. She doesn’t answer right away.

Just stands there, silent, until finally she says, “Something happened with Julian.”

My chest knots, heat crawling just under my skin. I swallow it. “What happened?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again, jaw tight, frustration leaking through her expression. But then she’s not looking at me anymore—her eyes flick to the window and narrow.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I turn to look.

Julian and Elias are right outside the bakery, standing way too close, voices rising, tension spilling out like a lit match in dry brush.

They’re arguing. Cora’s already moving, striding past me and throwing the door open before I can stop her.

“Get the hell away from here!” she shouts, loud enough to make heads turn down the street. “Both of you. I swear to God, I’ll start filing restraining orders if I have to.”

I’m right behind her, stepping out into the morning air, half-lit and humming with chaos. Julian’s holding a bouquet of fresh wildflowers.

His other hand gestures as he speaks, like that somehow softens the shit he’s pulled. Elias looks pissed but restrained, arms crossed and mouth pulled tight.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, stepping in between them.

Both of them start talking over each other.

“He told me to back off,” Julian snaps.

“I’ve been here for her,” Elias bites back.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Cora growls. “I’m done with both of you playing games with me like I’m something you can fight over.”

She turns and storms back inside, shoving the door so hard it nearly rebounds off the wall.

I move fast, chasing her in before the others can follow. She’s pacing behind the counter now, muttering under her breath, rage written in every line of her body.

“Cora,” I say gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me. Look at me.”

She spins, and I catch her by the arms, holding her just still enough.

“Tell me what actually happened.”

Her lips press together in a tight line before the words crack out of her like lightning.

“That bastard kissed me.”

I go rigid. “Which one?”

“Julian.”