Page 6 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

ELIAS

Isit in the corner, watching it all unfold.

Julian Vance stands at the front of the room, smooth-talking the crowd, painting a picture of progress and opportunity. I thought that after that little debate, he would take his leave, but Julian is not letting this go.

He speaks with conviction in his voice—the kind of person who could sell water to a drowning man. He wears a suit like he was born in one, every inch of him polished. Just like his brother.

Damien.

The name alone is enough to make my teeth clench. It’s been years, but some wounds never close. He stole everything from me, and I’m supposed to believe his twin is any different?

The Vance family has never been interested in anything but their own gain, and if Julian is here, that means bad news for Driftwood Cove.

This was supposed to be my fresh start. I walked away from everything, left the fight behind, built a life in the woods where no one could touch me. My cabin is miles from town, far from people, far from all of this. I only come in when necessary. Groceries. Supplies. Nothing else.

But Julian’s arrival threatens to drag me right back in.

He talks about jobs, about tourism, about making the town a destination. It’s the same speech developers have given for decades, the same lies wrapped up in shiny new packaging. I’ve seen what happens when men like him move in, have watched towns crumble under the weight of their promises.

The Vance family has been implicated in oil drilling cases before. They ruin the land. They destroy homes.

And now, they’re here.

I should leave. I have no stake in this town, no reason to stay beyond the fact that I spent the last three years convincing myself this place was safe. That I was done fighting.

Then she stands again.

Cora.

I’ve seen her before, in passing, but never like this. The fire in her eyes, the strength in her voice as she challenges Julian—she’s an Omega unafraid to stand against an Alpha with power.

I lean forward slightly, listening more carefully now.

“Like I said, the docks are history,” she says, voice unwavering. “You can’t just tear them down because they don’t fit your vision.”

Julian stays polite, but now there are more people murmuring and shifting in their seats. Some nod along with her. Lockwood watches closely, lips pressed together in thought.

She does make very good points.

I exhale through my nose, fighting the flicker of interest curling low in my stomach. An Omega with fire in her blood is rare.

But it’s none of my business. I don’t get involved. I never do.

Still, I stay. Watching. Waiting. Because Julian is here, and that means trouble isn’t far behind.

Julian begins to explain something, but my mind drifts off. The assistant mayor’s voice drags me out of my thoughts.

“It’s getting late. Let’s move on to the next order of business.”

The crowd shifts, murmurs filling the room as I slip out the back door unnoticed. I’ve done this countless times—show up just long enough to gauge the situation, and then disappear before anyone notices I was even there.

But today is different.

As I get into my truck and pull away from the town hall, my mind replays Cora’s face over and over. Her fire, her determination.

She’s not like the others—those that fall in line when someone with money waves it in front of their faces. No, she’s got something else.

I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. I’ve never been one to let people in. Not after everything I’ve been through. But there’s something about her... something about the way she stood up to Julian like she had nothing to lose.

The familiar quiet settles over me when I arrive back at my cabin. My dog, Rusty, a scruffy rescue I found near the highway a couple of years ago, bounds toward me with a wagging tail.

He’s a mix of some kind of terrier and mutt, small but full of energy. His white fur is speckled with patches of brown, and his ears perk up when he sees me. He’s always been loyal, and I’m grateful for it.

I scratch behind his ears as I enter the cabin. The place is simple, but it’s mine—solar-powered, off the grid, and surrounded by trees.

I’ve done everything I can to make this my sanctuary, my escape from the mess I left behind. But no matter how much I try to block it out, I know I can’t hide forever.

I glance over at the water I harvested from last night’s rain. It’s stored in large barrels just outside. I check it to make sure there’s no contamination, not that there’s much risk.

I trust the system I’ve set up. The rainwater is enough for most of my needs, and I’ve got a filtration system in place just in case.

I take a deep breath and decide to get to work. The night is cool, and I want a fire. The logs are stacked neatly, ready to be chopped.

I grab the axe and start splitting wood, the sound of each swing echoing in the air. There’s something cathartic about the rhythmic motion, the solid crack of the wood as it splits down the middle.

Once I’ve got enough, I head inside and build the fire, its crackle filling the room as I settle into my routine. I light the stove, preparing the steak I’d seasoned earlier.

The sizzle of it on the cast iron skillet brings a sense of calm, something familiar, something grounded. I flip the steak, letting it cook to perfection.

I’ve always been an environmentalist—there’s no question about that. The cabin is powered by the sun, I harvest rainwater, and I try to leave as small a footprint as possible.

But I’ll be honest: I’m not perfect. My truck is a gas guzzler, and I’ll never give it up. And when it comes to food, a well-cooked steak is one of the few indulgences I allow myself.

Once dinner’s done, I sit back in my chair, Rusty at my feet. The fire’s warmth radiates through the room, and I dig into the steak, savoring the medium-rare that I always cook it to. It’s quiet, peaceful, just the way I like it.

But my mind refuses to let go of Cora.

Why does she intrigue me so damn much?

I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at Julian, how she spoke her mind without hesitation, how her eyes held a fire that didn’t seem to match her delicate frame.

I never thought I’d meet someone like her.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it?

I don’t get involved. I made a vow to myself when I moved here: keep to myself, keep my distance, live my life without the baggage of the past. But it’s hard to ignore her, hard to ignore the pull she has on me.

I grab the remote and flick on the TV, letting reruns of an old show fill the silence. But it’s just noise. Nothing is holding my attention, not even the faces I’ve seen a hundred times.

Rusty shifts, his little head resting on my knee. I absentmindedly scratch behind his ears, my mind still on Cora. She’s stubborn, I can tell. But there’s something else, too.

There’s a vulnerability beneath that fire, something raw, and I want to understand it.

I lean back in the chair and sigh, wishing I could shut my mind off. I try to focus on the TV, but the images on the screen blur as thoughts of Cora slip into every corner of my mind.

She’s not my type.

I don’t have a type.

I was never supposed to get involved with anyone again. I was supposed to stay out of the mess. But now, every time I close my eyes, I see her standing in front of Julian, standing up for what she believes in. And it shakes something inside me.

My phone buzzes, breaking into my thoughts. I grab it, hoping it’s something to pull me out of this, but it’s just a message from an old friend. I ignore it.

My thoughts drift back to the town hall, to Cora’s fierce words. I should let it go, should focus on my quiet life here. But something tells me I won’t be able to.

I finish my steak, but it feels hollow in my stomach. It’s just food. I’m not hungry for it. I’m hungry for something else.

I grab a book from the shelf, trying to distract myself. But the letters blur as I stare at the page, mind lost in thoughts of a petite redhead who has no idea how much she’s already gotten under my skin.

I don’t need anyone. I made sure of that.

But Cora...

Fuck. Cora makes me question everything I’ve built here. And this time, I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing.