Page 47 of Unhinged

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

brYDGETT

The scent of Acid and sweat clings to my skin like a secret I shouldn't have told. Acid’s knot is still a phantom ache deep inside me—stretching, pulsing, a brand I let happen. No, I chose to let happen.

Goddammit.

I hurry through the basement door, ignoring the slick between my thighs, sticky with heat and shame and something dangerously close to satisfaction.

The basement smells like sex and mildew.

I glance over my shoulder at Acid, still by the wall where he kissed the hell out of me, head leaned back, chest rising slow like he’s finally fucking relaxed for once in his life.

I should feel powerful. That was my game. My rules. But instead…

I press my palm to my abdomen. It’s not pain—it’s memory. The last knot I ever took was Earl’s. Almost ten years ago. My first heat. My last one thanks to blockers.

Until now. I’m not a moron. I’m playing a dangerous game right now with no blockers. My heat could hit at any time.

“Fuck,” I whisper, swallowing hard.

Arrow doesn’t even know yet.

I made him promise— swear he wouldn’t knot me. And now? I go and suction Acid’s knot into me like I’m a goddamn Dyson.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I mutter to the empty hall as I walk into the main part of the clubhouse. I move fast, like if I keep going, the guilt won’t catch up.

But it’s there. Every step, every breath.

How did I end up like this? Not just having sex with one alpha, but two. Two MC leaders with god complexes and possessive streaks a mile wide. Two men who’d raze the world if I told them to. Or if someone else touched me. And don’t even get me started on the third.

I need to talk to someone who gets it. Someone who won't look at me like I’m broken or stupid or about to shatter.

Georgia.

Voices ripple through the room—Arrow's low growl, front and center. He’s deep in conversation with Keg, Bat, and a few unfamiliar faces clustered near the pool table.

I pause just long enough to breathe.

“Brydgett!” Arrow’s voice booms across the room, and when I look over, he’s got this big-ass grin like he just won the damn lottery. “Come meet some of the other brothers!”

I pause for a second. My legs feel wobbly, like maybe they remember I just got absolutely wrecked in the basement. But I square my shoulders and walk over, pretending I’m not still full of Acid’s knot. Gross. Hot. Whatever. Not the time.

Arrow slings an arm around my back, all proud. “This is Nitro, Suave, Arky, and Stallion.”

They all grunt out something like hello, manly and rough, like they’ve practiced sounding intimidating. Except Suave.

He’s got this long, dark hair that falls just past his shoulders, and a face that’s so annoyingly perfect it looks edited.

Like sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips—the whole broody poster-boy deal.

And his eyes? Light and kinda intense, like he’s about to read me poetry or steal my soul. Maybe both.

Then the scents hit me.. Everything all at once. Strong, heavy, crashing into each other like they’re fighting to be noticed.

Nitro smells like smoke and grease. It’s rough and loud and makes my back go straight without thinking. Definitely alpha.

Arky’s scent is warmer. Kinda like old leather and trees. It feels steadier, like he doesn’t have to try so hard. Still alpha, just... calmer.

Stallion’s got this sharp, spicy thing going on. Clove, maybe? And something else I can’t name. And honestly, a little scary. Like the kind of scent that says don’t mess with me.

Then there’s Suave. And for a second, I totally mess it up. He smells sweet. Warm and golden, like sugar and something soft, like maybe amber? My brain says omega—because duh —but no. He’s alpha too. Just… smoother. Too smooth. Dangerous in a whole other kind of way.

He grabs my hand all smooth and shit, like we’re on some Jane Austen set.

“My lady,” he says, and straight-up kisses the top of my hand.

Arrow lets out a low growl and smacks him upside the head. “Lips off my omega. This is Brydgett. Our Kismet. Our Ol’ Lady.”

“Arrow,” I warn.

“She hasn’t quite accepted the label,” he amends, arm tightening around my waist, “but we’re Kismet. So hands off.”

“Sorry, Arrow.” Suave smirks, no real apology in it.

“Nice to meet you boys. You coming back for the party this weekend?” I ask, giving them a polite smile.

“Sure am,” Nitro says, adjusting his cut. “We’ve been staying off-site with Stallion for a while. But his beta’s pregnant, and the mood swings were getting lethal. So we hit the road.”

“Congrats,” I tell Stallion, who looks like a golden-haired demigod.

“Thanks. Pretty sure our omega’s the one who knocked her up. He’s proud as hell and she’s cranky as sin. Rowdy brothers in the house weren’t cutting it.”

“Well, I’m about to hit the road,” I say, backing up. “But it was nice meeting you all. Maybe we’ll shoot darts or something at the party.”

“Cool. See you then,” Arky says with a lazy nod.

I turn, almost to the door when Arrow’s hand wraps around my arm.

“Gidge,” he says, soft but firm. “You can’t just go off alone. Where are you going?”

I look at him right in the eyes. They’re all dark and cloudy, like one of those storms you can feel in your bones before it even hits. He’s worried, and trying not to show it. All protective and bossy, like usual. It makes me wanna scream and kiss him at the same time.

“I need to talk to Georgia. Alone.”

“Let me take you,” he says instantly. “I’ll wait outside. Please.”

I sigh. “Fine. But you stay outside.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s go, Driving Miss Daisy.”

He grins. “You okay?”

I straddle the back of his bike, hands gripping the seat.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just need a gal to talk to, okay? Leave it.”

His silence stretches. Then?—

“This got anything to do with the plum and sandalwood rolling off you in waves?”

I twist and glare. “Leave it.”

He raises his hands like he’s backing away from a bomb. “Alright. But I’m not above knocking some sense into Acid.”

“Don’t. I can handle my damn self. I just need to talk to Georgia. She’s been like… a mom to me. So let’s go.”

He revs the bike, and we shoot out of the compound gates.

The wind bites my cheeks, cool and sharp, but I welcome it. The road cuts through town, the world blurring at the edges—neon signs, the flash of streetlights, a kid skateboarding on the sidewalk. Everything feels more real on a Harley. Alive. Exposed. Like if I scream, the whole town would hear it.

But I don’t scream.

I hold it in like I always do.

We pull up in front of my old apartment and Arrow cuts the engine. I swing my leg over and hop off. I give him a look—real sharp, real clear. Don’t follow me.

Arrow nods once.

I run upstairs two at a time, knock three times fast, and wait.

Georgia opens the door, a smile covering her whole face. “Come in, girl.”

I step past her, already breathing easier. The scent of cookies hits me. Comfort. Home.

Then I stop dead in my tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, legs all crossed and fancy, sipping from this tiny floral teacup, is Marcus.

He looks up, one brow raised.

“Well, don’t you look cozy?” I cross my arms, staring at him.

Marcus sets his cup down real slow, like he’s giving me a chance to stop him. “I should go.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Stay. Maybe you can give me the male or alpha perspective.”

Georgia doesn’t miss a beat. She motions to the table, then grabs a mug from the cabinet, filling it with coffee and adds just enough cream and sugar to make it taste like heaven. Hands it to me without asking; she always remembers how I like it.

“Alright, honey,” she says, sitting next to me, all calm. “Spill it. What’s going on? And did those three really let you come over here alone?”

“No.” I sigh and take a sip. The coffee hits just right. “Arrow is downstairs. He’s waiting for me like some overgrown guard dog. They don’t let me go anywhere alone. Not that I’ve tried very hard, so I guess ‘let’ is a strong word.”

Marcus stands and walks to the window, parting the blinds to peek down at the street. “What happened, Brydgett? Last I knew, you were hiding in my tent from those assholes, and now one of them rode you over here on the back of his bike. Where’s Judge?”

He turns around and looks right at me, eyes sharp.

“Lot’s happened,” I say, blowing on the coffee and not meeting his stare. “In a nutshell? I left here, but a ghost from my past tracked me down. He ran me and Judge out of town, then off the road. Then he shot me.”

Marcus goes still, his scent getting stronger but in a bitter type of way.

“As I was about to meet the big man downstairs,” I say flatly. “Gears, Acid, and Arrow showed up. President, Enforcer, and VP of the Renegade. They scared him off, called Ike, patched me up, and brought me back to the clubhouse for protection. Judge is there now. He’s safe. Believe me.”

Marcus lets out a long, low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“So, what brings you here now?” Georgia asks, voice gentle.

“Well… you know they’re my Kismets.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But you also know I worked hard so nobody knew I was an omega. Only you two knew. Marcus only knew because I was sick once and he had to go get my blockers.”

Marcus shrugs like it was nothing, but he’s listening close.

“Anyway… being around them twenty-four seven has me rethinking everything. About alphas. Or at least… these alphas.”

“That’s not a bad thing, honey.” Georgia leans forward. “They’re fated to you. And from what I’ve seen, they’d burn the whole damn world down for you. Even if it meant setting themselves on fire in the process.”

“They would.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Marcus asks.

I stare into my coffee. “I don’t know how to be an omega. I knotted one of them today… and then I panicked and came here.”

Marcus lets out a short laugh. “Brydgett, I don’t think that’s how it works. You can’t knot an alpha.”

“You can,” I growl, “when you’re bouncing on his dick while he’s cuffed to a chair.”