Page 189 of Knot So Social

Willow smiles faintly before switching her attention back to the camera.

“The chances of getting struck by lightning more than once? Infinitesimal. And yet it happened to me. November 30. A direct lightning strike scorched through me, burning me on the inside and searing these marks on the outside. Organ damage, a shattered collarbone, liver failure. The strike broke my vocal chords, and put me back in hospital for another nine months, this time with atrophied thigh muscles that no amount of physical therapy could repair. The only favor it did me was finally severing my bond with the Ilvine pack.

“And since they could no longer feel the bond, they tracked me down to find out why what had happened.”

Willow covers her mouth with one hand, her hissed, indrawn breath loud in the silent room. A handful of fat tears roll down her cheeks.

“They . . . brought their new omega into my hospital room where I was strapped into a bed full of tubes and casts. And they . . . laughed. Laughed at me for being broken and congratulated themselves on not being stuck—” She air quotes her next words. “—with a dud omega.”

Joel gets up, his bond line simmering with a dark energy I’ve never felt before. He turns his back toward the omega to hide, scrubbing his face with one hand. It does nothing to abate his murderous fury. A second later he bites down on his own fist.

The black chaos in the bond sluggishly recedes.

I glance across at Alessandro. He’s white as a ghost, and sensing my gaze, turns to look at me, so stricken I fear he might be about to pass out.

The door clicks shut behind Joel as he leaves, the noise loud in the hushed studio.

Willow laughs coldly. Fuck, it’s a small blessing she’s so entranced in her storytelling that she hasn’t noticed Joel’s absence. He’s barely holding himself together.

“Let me ask you: would you be able to go outside again after being struck by lightning twice? I feel the static, lingering in the air all the time like a malevolent presence. No matter what I try, to this day I can’t force my foot across the threshold.

“Which brings us to today. Because although the lightning strikes severed my bond, they didn’t silence the voices telling me I wasn’t good enough, the ones that said an omega belongs only in a nest. Even after all the therapy I’ve done, and all the books I’ve read, it’s still so easy to believe the Ilvine’s lies.”

She clutches at her throat, our bond so cold and icy I’d expect it’s what the touch of death feels like.

Outside, the crash of shattering plaster echoes down the hall. The wall vibrates with the hit. Joel’s punch feels like it lands in my own gut, right beside our omega’s bitterness strangling the bond.

Joel slips back into the studio, plaster dust coating his reddened knuckles. He leans on the back wall, arms crossed and jaw working overtime. His rage rockets through the bond, hot and heavy. If he ever finds those three alphas, I’ll need to hide the bodies.

Alessandro, one hand squeezed into a fist, glances over at Joel. Tremors run up and down his arm and his foot bounces with agitation. Yeah. He might get to them first.

Willow lifts her chin. “Today, I know that none of their words are true. The way they treated me wasn’t normal, and I didn’t deserve that. But their cruel jokes and torture broke me down until all I could hear was their voices. At least, until recently.”

Her gaze flits over the three of us, a warmth tingling in the frozen bond. We helped her—not that we’ve done anything amazing enough to deserve gratitude. All we wanted was to stay in her presence.

She goes on. “I desperately wanted to share the skills I’d learned with other omegas, so they’d never get drawn into a trap like I was. But I thought I had to be perfect before you’d take my advice. That’s what my first pack drummed into me, that you don’t get a seat at the table unless you met some godly level of perfection.

“Honestly, I’m not perfect. You can see my scars.” Willow waves at the marks running down her thigh. “I was too afraid to show them to you before.”

Our omega hesitates, her lovely blue eyes tracking across the three of her alphas again. We’re in far worse shape than she is, but the way her smile lights up those blue orbs makes it feel like dawn rises in my chest.

“When I started Boss Omega, I was still coming out of homelessness. I didn’t have the courage to show you who I really was. So, I made up a lie, that I was out in public, going to all these amazing places. And one lie became many lies, and I didn’t know how to untangle them. I was scared, too scared, until three amazing alphas showed me that it’s okay to be vulnerable.”

Willow wipes away her tears with her thumb.

“Not everyone you meet is going to tear you down. Some, the special ones, will lift you up, even when you’re at your worst.”

My breath hitches. Alessandro passes me a tissue, and I dab at my wet cheeks, unable to tear my gaze away. Fuck, she’s so beautiful, I almost don’t want anyone else to see this video.

Willow turns her attention back to the camera. She spreads her hands in invitation. “So now you know my story. All of it. The ugly and the beautiful. My wisdom was shared in the wrong way, and for that, I’m sorry. But that advice, all of it was from my heart. It was given because I didn’t want any of you to experience what I went through.

And that’s the truth.”

Willow pauses for breath, centering herself, and then she nods.

Joel flicks the switch by the door, while I reach for the spotlights. Beside them, I turn on the ultraviolet light. Willow disappears in darkness, but her scars light up, each one carefully traced with glow-in-the-dark paint by Alessandro. And along with those fascinating Lichtenberg swirls, he’s painted our bond scars. They reflect back at us, as if those sets of marks are her soul glowing in the darkness.

I hit the record button on the camera to end the filming.