Knot The One They Want

Lorali Pov

The cold wind blows past the bus stop, sweeping loose leaves across the concrete pavement, but I barely feel the chill of the morning air. Without warning, a sudden, agonizing white-hot spike of pain flares directly over my collarbone.

I gasp out loud, my knees buckling slightly as I double over, clutching my left shoulder with both hands.

Right beneath the raw, raised skin where Oracle’s rejected bond mark sits, a burning sensation spreads straight through my nervous system, biting deep into my shoulder blade like molten iron.

I dig my fingernails into my jersey, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I bite down on my lower lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood as I force myself to stand upright, fighting the urge to scream.

Why now? I scream inside my head, my eyes watering from the raw intensity of the burning.

There are still two whole weeks left before the proximity mandate kicks in. I am supposed to have more time before my body demands to be close to Oracle again.

I take slow, shallow breaths, praying the excruciating wave will subside before the handful of commuters standing at the bus stop start staring at me.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, keeping my head bowed to hide my pained grimace behind my hair.

I curse Oracle. I curse every single bone in his body, every drop of blood in his veins, and his very existence on this earth. The bastard always manages to ruin a perfectly good day without even being in the same zip code.

Just when I am making progress on the ice, just when I am reclaiming my own life, his phantom mark pulls me straight back down into hell.

As the sharpest edge of the spasm gradually fades into a dull, throbbing ache, I straighten my back and wipe my forehead with the back of my gloved hand. I am done with this, I tell myself firmly.

I am having Scarlet drive me to and from the penthouse from now on. I cannot do this whole public bus stop thing anymore.

I am doing all of this to get back at the Spades anyway. Scarlet can easily chauffeur me back and forth between the apartment and the Falcons ice rink. Right as I pull my jacket collar higher to hide my neck, my phone vibrates loudly in my coat pocket.

Annoyed, my chest still heaving from the pain, I snatch the device out of my pocket. I do not even bother checking the caller ID. I press the screen to my ear, surrendering completely to my foul mood.

"What?" I snap into the speaker, biting my lip again as another small tremor of pain shoots through my left shoulder blade. A light, amused chuckle echoes through the line. "Well, someone is certainly in a fantastic mood today."

My stomach drops, replaced instantly by a fresh wave of irritation when I recognize the smooth, lazy cadence of Kazair’s voice.

"What do you want, Kazair?" I bite out, resting my back against the metal pole of the bus stop sign. "I thought that emotional goodbye we said the last time was supposed to be the absolute end of our communication."

"It was supposed to be the end of it," Kazair agrees easily, the faint background noise of a high-end coffee shop humming through his receiver. "I never thought I would hear your voice again, honestly. Well, not until my wife’s formal wedding ceremony next year, of course."

I roll my eyes toward the overcast sky. It is still deeply strange to me that the Masintosh Pack and Arabella are planning a massive, extravagant public wedding when they are technically already legally married, but that is Arabella for you. I let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. "What do you actually want, Kazair?"

"I would not be bothering to talk to you if you and Arabella were currently speaking," Kazair says, his voice shifting into a lazy, nonchalant tone. "But you two are not talking right now, are you?"

"Get to the point."

"Arabella told me to give you a quick update," Kazair continues, leaning closer to his phone. "She said you should know that Oracle was recently visited in prison by a high-powered defense attorney sent directly by Torin. We have reason to believe Torin is actively trying to pull legal strings to get Oracle out on bail."

I freeze dead in my tracks. My grip on the phone tightens until my knuckles turn white. A cold spike of pure anger flares in my chest. How does the entire Spade pack always find a way to ruin my day? Why are they trying to pull that monster out of a cell so soon? Can they not just let him suffer for even a single month?

I let out a defeated, harsh sigh into the microphone. "How long until they successfully pull him out of jail?"

Kazair laughs softly on the other end, clearly enjoying the drama. "That is actually the funniest part of this whole situation. It is going to be a very, very long legal procedure, because Oracle is flatly refusing to sign the bail paperwork." I blink, stunned. My brain struggles to process the sentence. "He is not signing?"

"Yeah," Kazair confirms, humming into the speaker. "He is refusing to sign the High Court documents. Do you think the guy is actually feeling guilty? I mean, we did anonymously mail him a bunch of heavy medical textbooks like you asked us to. The ones detailing every single brutal symptom of a venomous bond. Apparently, he told his attorney that he deserves to rot in that cell and refuses to leave."

The heavy, suffocating annoyance that had been building in my chest instantly evaporates, replaced by a sudden, exhilarating rush of pure, golden joy. My breath hitches, but this time not from pain. A slow, lethal smile spreads across my face right there on the sidewalk.

He feels guilty.