Page 109 of Knot Only For One Night

“Get in the driver's seat,” I say, leaving out the just in case I get my ass handed to me and I need you to drive away part.

“I don’t need to. Soren, get in the car.” She tries to scoot over the arm rest to the passenger seat, but I shake my head and grab her, setting her firmly in the driver's seat.

“You remember the way back to the plaza?”

“I don’t need to⁠—”

“Do you?” I cut her off. I hear the bell above the door of the laundromat ring, and I know they are coming this way. “Esper.”

Her eyes are wide, fear clouding in them. I swear to fucking god I’ll fix this. I can’t stand this look in her eyes. This has gone on way too fucking far and we need to wrap this up.

Today.

“Yes,” her voice wobbles and I have to ignore it as I lay the keys in her lap, kiss the back of her hand, and shut the door.

“Well, if it isn’t Prince Charming.”

“Back for round two?” I ask as I turn. The bruising has started to heal from our Bar fight about two weeks ago. They still look like shit otherwise. Rocker somehow has more tattoos, now decorating his face alongside a cut on his eyebrow and a yellow bruise on his cheek. His dark hair is even thinning now at the top and instead of, I don't know, taking care of it so it doesn’t look so damn greasy, or hell putting a hat on, he lets the few strands he has look shiny and nastier than ever.

Lightning got the long end of the stick, his hair fuller and falling to the base of his neck. Though that nice shiner I gave him is having a hell of a time healing. Probably all the damn drugs, booze, and poor diet they partake in. Not that I'm much better, but I at least throw a veggie in my diet every so often.

I need to make sure Esper does too.

“Not this time, little brother.” The nickname gives me chills. The little always had to be tacked on, or beta. As if that made me less than. My gaze flickers to Esper. Both her hands are around her neck as worry takes over her features.

“Right, this needs to end.”

“Come with us, and bring your omega,” Lightning says. “It’ll be like how it was when we were kids.”

Do they actually think there’s any universe where I agree to this?

“No.”

“Little bro, come on, you can’t take care of her on your own and we can help. We can be the Pack we were always meant to be.”

“No. Even if I didn't have my real Pack members, I would still never join your ratty ass Pack.”

“Ain’t nothing real about those pussies, Fox,” Rocker spits. Once upon a time I hated the name, what it represented and why I got it.

I stare at their harsh eyes. Same as mine, except I don’t have the tint of evil in mine. I know I don't.

Lightning takes a step forward, his patience probably running thin.

I scoff and step forward too, needing to put as much distance between them and the truck as possible. “More real than the two of you, more genuine, more fucking perfect for my omega.”

“I hate that it has to come to this,” Lightning says and he swings. I dodge his hit, as I have done for the last twenty-six years. Swinging one of my own. Bringing every single insult, beatdown, and nasty fucking stereotype they’ve ever thrown at me into the swing. My fist connects with Lightning’s cheek, the force making him stumble off to the side.

I swing on my heel, finding Rocker stalking toward the truck door, and something unfurls in my chest. Pure adrenaline has me catching him by the back of his shirt and slamming him to the ground.

“Don’t you touch my fucking omega,” I spit, kicking the shit out of his side. Lightning is on my ass, his arm banding around my neck and hauling me back in a chokehold as Rocker gets up.

“Since when do betas have a damn say, Fox? Since when do you run the damn show?” Rocker lands a blow to my stomach with each sentence, My body is on fire from the lack of oxygen and the hits. I stumble back. Fuck. I need to catch my footing, but holy fuck.

“Maybe listen to your alphas next time, dimwit,” Lightning mutters in my ear. His nasty breath hits the side of my cheek, but his words hit something in my chest.

“Fuck you.”

They double their efforts. Rocker’s swings hit like a lead ball over and over, and my throat is so closed up I start to lose focus.