Page 79 of Knotted By my Pack

I brush her hair back from her face and kiss her softly this time—no heat, no hunger, just us. Tied. Together.

Her scent shifts again—satisfaction, belonging.

“Please stay,” she whispers for the third time, and now I know what she means.

“I will,” I say.Forever.

And I mean it.

23

ELIAS

The engine purrs softer than it has in weeks as I guide her car into the driveway.

Fixed the knocking, replaced the filter, tuned the belts just right. It drives smoother than before, like it wants to take her somewhere better.

I sit for a moment after shutting it off, resting my hands on the wheel, letting the silence drag longer than necessary. There’s a tightness under my ribs that hasn’t eased since last night. Maybe even longer than that.

I fish out her keys, slide out of the seat, and cross the path toward the front door. The sun is barely over the trees, the air thick with summer heat and something else.

Her scent.

It clings to the porch like memory. Familiar. Sweet. I try not to think about what it means that I can smell her.

The door creaks open before I knock.

Noah steps out.

His shirt is loose, unbuttoned. His scent floods out behind him—raw, earthy, rich with the proof of what they did. I don’t need to be told. I know it.

I know it in the way her scent is buried in his skin, tangled up in the salt of his sweat. He looks at me like he already expects something, something hard and inevitable.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

I lift the keys. “Finished the car. Thought I’d drop it off before I leave.”

He steps forward. “Leave?”

“Yeah.”

He studies me before saying. “Like leaving town?”

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my tone level. “Got a position in Anchorage. It’s a good opportunity. Field work. Ocean preservation and impact analysis. I start next week.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

“There’s a lot going on, Noah. You know that. And I can’t stay in a town where Julian walks around like nothing happened. Like he’s not poison.”

Noah crosses his arms, gaze sharp. “What the hell happened between you two?”

My jaw tightens. “It’s not something I want to unpack right now.”

“You sure about that?”

I glance past him, toward the door that’s still open a crack. I can hear soft movement inside. A mug hitting the counter. Her laugh, faint. It sinks into me, cold and final.

“I’ve been trying to forget what his family did to someone I cared about,” I say. “Trying not to lose my shit every time I see him, pretending it’s fine. But it’s not. He’s not. And I need to be somewhere I can breathe without choking on what I know.”