Knot The One They Want

Lorali Pov

"You need to slow down for a second and tell me exactly what I did, word for word. How on earth did I reach the point of burning down someone’s house?" I growl, my voice trembling with disbelief. The terrifying part is that I fully believe what I’m hearing. I know myself, I am perfectly capable of setting fire to someone’s home. And if I was drunk, if I was in that reckless state, then I’m certain I wanted the person inside to die.

Astrid doesn’t share my seriousness. She chuckles lightly, almost dismissively, as the microwave beeps to signal the end of its cycle. She opens the door, pulls out the steaming bowl of noodles, and sets it on the table. Blowing on her hands from the heat, she shakes her head, opening the spice packet with casual ease.

"It’s a long story," she says, her tone maddeningly calm.

I narrow my eyes, frustration boiling inside me. "Since you’re not showing me where the keys are to leave this place, I have all the time in the world. So tell me what happened."

Astrid sighs, stirring the noodles, then finally looks at me. "Alright... here’s what happened."

Astrid Pov – Flashback Begins

"That girl has been in the bathroom for quite some time, don’t you think?"Win, my longtime friend mutters, dragging her eyes up to meet mine.

I glance toward the crowd of people dancing and nod. "She has been gone for a while now that you mention it."

Lorali disappeared saying she’s going to the bathroom not too long ago. She said she needed to clear her head, but she hasn’t come back in at least thirty minutes. That’s far too long. I should probably go check on her. Maybe she got lost in the crowd, or maybe someone is making out in front of the bathroom door and she doesn’t know how to tell them to move. Honestly, I could see that happening.

"I’ll be back," I say, sliding off the couch.

I don’t know why I care about Lorali so much. She doesn’t like me, not really. She pushes me away every chance she gets. But the more she resists, the more I want to be near her. It’s strange. She feels familiar to me, like someone I’ve known all my life. Maybe it’s because I’ve always wanted a sister. I have brothers, sure, but that bond is different. With Lorali, I feel this pull, this strange desire for a connection. I don’t know why. It’s weird, but it’s real.

I elbow my way through the wall of sweaty bodies, muttering half-hearted apologies that no one hears, until I finally break through to the dance floor. My eyes scan the chaos, expecting to see Lorali standing awkwardly outside the unisex bathroom in the distance, wringing her hands while some sloppy couple blocks the door with their mouths glued together. Maybe it was a mistake bringing her to Club Vice for her first party. Things here can get extreme, and she’s not built for extremes.

But when I push deeper into the crowd, my breath catches. It isn’t the bathroom where I find her, it’s the center of the storm.

The dance floor is a riot, bodies moving like waves, lights flashing in violent bursts, basslines pounding so hard they rattle my bones. Usually, I’d be right there in the middle, basking in the chaos, letting it strip away every problem I pretend I don’t have. But tonight, it isn’t me commanding the room. It’s Lorali.

She’s standing on top of the main bar table, her pristine hair, usually styled so neatly it looked like a librarian had arranged every strand with surgical precision now whipped into a wild cyclone as she thrashes her head to the beat. The bass vibrates straight through my ribs, but she’s the one radiating power. The Alma’s omega who probably uses index cards to organize her spice rack is now swinging a lit sparkler in one hand, shouting mangled lyrics to a song I know she’s never heard in her life.

"What on earth..." I breathe, frozen in place, unable to process what I’m seeing.

She’s a natural. The entire club bends around her, taken hostage by her scent. She had to have alcohol.I groan, rubbing my palms together, guilt gnawing at me. I messed up. Something must have been in the Sunrise.

It isn’t just that she’s partying. She’s owning the room. Her pheromones spike thick and sweet in the air, a dizzying perfume that makes my nose twitch. Whether it’s the alcohol flooding her system or pure adrenaline, her scent has transformed into a tactical siren song. Every Alpha within fifty feet is staring at her like starved wolves catching sight of prey wrapped in silk.

They’re panting, restless, jostling for position, their eyes glazed with hunger. Gold watches, black cards, and glittering jewelry rain down onto the bar like offerings at an altar, desperate sacrifices for a single second of her attention. Lorali doesn’t even notice, she’s too busy laughing, too busy screaming lyrics that don’t exist, too busy burning herself into the memory of everyone in this room.

And I stand there, horrified, knowing this is only the beginning. I can feel it. Damn it I should have tasted the sunrise.

Two massive Alpha guys, men I recognize as regulars at this club, notorious for their god complexes and the way they strut around as if they’re above everyone, crouch down like human footstools before Lorali. With a grunt, they lift her onto their shoulders, raising her high enough to reach the club’s ceiling lights that dangle like glowing fruit.

"She’s an absolute demon!" a guy next to me screams over the music, his eyes glossy and wide, his voice trembling with awe. "She ordered twelve shots of absinthe and then made the head bouncer do a handstand!" I must have missed that party, lowkey mad I didn’t see it.

Lorali, drunk on chaos and adrenaline, snatches a bottle of champagne from a silver bucket. She pops the cork with her teeth, the sound sharp and violent, then sprays the foaming liquid over the roaring crowd like a Formula 1 champion celebrating victory. The crowd erupts, howling at her as if she were a deity descending to grant them rain.

I watch, horrified and reluctantly impressed, I watch as three distinct pack leaders nearly come to blows over who gets to hold her empty champagne bottle she just held. My stomach twists. This is why omegas aren’t supposed to drink. I rub my eyes, trying to steady myself. This scent—her scent—makes unbonded Alphas lose their minds.

Lorali spins around, her hair whipping like a storm, and her gaze locks onto mine. She spots me in the pit and lets out a guttural, triumphant laugh that shakes me to my core. Then, without hesitation, she throws herself backward in a full, terrifying trust fall off the shoulders of the men carrying her.

The mob of Alphas surges forward, practically breaking their own limbs in their desperation to catch her. They hoist her above their heads, carrying her like a champion surfer riding a human wave, the crowd pulsing and shifting beneath her as if she’s the embodiment of the music itself.

"Astrid!" she roars, her voice cutting through the chaos. She lands on her feet right in front of me with the agility of a cat that’s consumed five energy drinks, her eyes blazing with wild fire. "You’re late to the fun!"

"Lorelei, you look like a feral animal!" I yell, dodging as she lunges toward me, trying to wrap me in a champagne-soaked hug. My voice cracks with frustration. "We are leaving! Right now!"

Augh. Did I really just say that? I hate sounding like the party police, but she’s clearly not in her right mind. If she stays here any longer, either she or one of these Alphas is going to do something stupid, and I’ll be the one cleaning up the mess.

"Nonsense!" she cackles, her eyes blazing with manic delight. "I have acquired an army of followers!" She waves vaguely at the fifty grown men currently growling at me, their faces twisted with irritation at my attempt to kill the vibe.

It takes me ten grueling minutes, two fake emergency calls, and the desperate act of physically throwing Lorali’s shoes into the crowd as a distraction to drag her out the side door. Her boots scrape uselessly against the pavement as I haul her along, while she belts out opera at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing into the night. The cold air slams into us like a bucket of ice water, shocking my senses awake.

Lorali suddenly stops walking. She slumps against the brick wall, blinking heavily, her brain struggling to process the shift in atmosphere. The wild spark in her eyes flickers, dimming into the heavy, glassy glaze of someone about to crash hard.

Before I can haul her up and shove her into the car, a choked sob echoes down the pavement. Win appears, walking slowly, holding a crying Jade in her arms. Jade is still crying, her shoulders shaking, her face streaked with tears.

"Jade, are you seriously still crying?" I call out, exasperated, watching them approach. Win nods grimly. "She can’t get over the fact that Gabrielle cheated on her. And neither can I. What are we going to do? We can’t let this go on."

She just keeps crying and crying. I know I’ll have to deal with this soon, but right now my priority is getting Lorali home before she combusts. I glance back at her, only to find her staring at Jade with wide, unblinking eyes. Her head tilts, her expression sharpens, and she shakes her head slowly, a dangerous gleam flashing across her face.

"Enough," Lorali hisses, her voice slicing through the silence. "Enough sob stories. Do you want to cry for the rest of your life, Jade, or do you want revenge?"

Jade blinks through her tears, startled. "Revenge?"

"We can make him regret living," Lorali declares, her eyes burning with an unholy light. She looks at me, her voice rising into a command. "Astrid! To the car!"

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