Knot Happening Again (Claimverse Book 2)

I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Rhys pace. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. Mace hunches over the island, his massive frame dwarfing the stool beneath him. Troy leans on the fridge, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by a scowl.

We’re all waiting for someone to break the silence. Finally, Mace speaks up, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet.

‘I think I’ve got some of it figured out,’ he says, glancing between Rhys and me. ‘But maybe you should start from the beginning, Rhys. Fill in the gaps for us.’

Rhys stops pacing, running a hand through his hair. The gesture is familiar, but different now. There’s a weariness to it I’ve never seen before. He looks… beaten. It’s unsettling to see our leader like this.

‘I just put it together myself,’ Rhys admits, his voice low. ‘I didn’t exactly stick around to chat with Leon before he left.’

Troy snorts. ‘One thing’s clear,’ he says, eyes flashing. ‘Leon’s the asshole who marked Ophelia and bailed.’

We all turn to look at him. Troy shrugs, unapologetic. ‘What? It’s true, isn’t it?’

Rhys nods slowly, the movement almost painful to watch. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right,’ he says. ‘Leon confessed to all of it before he left.’

My stomach drops. Part of me had been hoping for some misunderstanding, some explanation that would make this okay. But the grim set of Rhys’s jaw tells me otherwise.

‘Tell us everything,’ I urge, moving closer to Rhys. I want to comfort him, but I’m not sure it would be welcome right now.

Rhys takes a deep breath. ‘Leon and Ophelia knew each other when they were younger. They had a one-night stand when Leon was home from college. He… he started to mark her, but didn’t finish it. Then he left the next morning without a word.’

The kitchen falls silent as we process this. I can feel Troy’s anger radiating off him, see the disappointment in Mace’s eyes. As for me, I’m struggling to reconcile this version of Leon with the man I’ve known for years. The loyal pack mate, the devoted alpha.

‘Why?’ Mace asks, his voice rough. ‘Why would he do that?’

Rhys shakes his head, looking exhausted. ‘He said he was scared. That he saw Ophelia as something that would chain him to the life his parents wanted. So he ran.’

Troy lets out a harsh laugh. ‘Scared? He ruined her life because he was scared?’

‘I know,’ Rhys says, barely audible. ‘Trust me, I know.’

I watch Rhys carefully as he speaks. His voice is detached, almost clinical as he relays the facts. But I can see the pain in his eyes, the way his hands clench at his sides. This isn’t just about Leon’s past mistakes. This is about betrayal, about secrets kept from the pack.

‘Is that why he’s been so against bringing an omega into the pack?’ I ask, pieces falling into place. ‘Because he knew Ophelia was out there?’

Rhys nods. ‘Apparently, he’s been trying to find her. That’s where he’s been disappearing to lately. He hired a PI, spent time at the Scent Bar hoping to run into her again.’

‘The Scent Bar?’ Mace echoes, frowning.

The realization hits us all at once, and the atmosphere grows even heavier. We already knew she had to work there, doing things that she hated, because of the alpha who marked her. And we just figured out that alpha was Leon. But making the emotional connection for the first time between those two facts…

Fuck, it’s rough. I feel a surge of protectiveness toward Ophelia, mixed with deep sadness for what she’s been through. And the kind of rage I never imagined I could feel toward my own pack mate. One of my best friends.

‘So what now?’ Troy asks, breaking the tense silence.

We all turn to Rhys, our alpha, our leader. But for the first time since I’ve known him, Rhys looks lost. He shakes his head, shoulders slumping. ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘We need to get Ophelia through her heat. We’ll figure out the rest after that. Right now, I think it’s best for Leon not to be here. And he agrees.’

Mace pushes off the wall. ‘I’ll make her something to eat for when she wakes up,’ he says, moving toward the fridge. It’s such a Mace thing to do—taking care of others through food—that it almost makes me smile. Almost.

Troy pushes off from the counter. ‘I’ll go upstairs and keep an eye on her,’ he offers. There’s a softness in his voice that I rarely hear, a tenderness that speaks volumes about how much Ophelia already means to him. To all of us.

As they leave, I’m left alone with Rhys. He looks so lost, so unlike the strong, confident alpha I’m used to seeing. I make a decision.

‘I’ll go check on Leon,’ I say, moving closer to him. ‘If that’s okay with you?’

Rhys looks at me, gratitude flickering in his eyes. ‘Thanks,’ he says softly. ‘I’m not sure where he’ll be, though.’

I give him a small smile. ‘I have an idea.’

–

I grab my keys and head out. The drive downtown is quiet, the streets nearly empty at this late hour. My mind races as I navigate the familiar route, memories flooding back with each turn.

I pull up outside the old gym where Leon got his start. Where we all met, actually. It’s a rundown place, nothing like the high-end facilities Leon trains at now. But I have a feeling this is where he’d go to lick his wounds.

Sure enough, as I walk in, I spot Leon at the far end of the gym. He’s pounding a punching bag, his white hair dark with sweat, his tan skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights. The rhythmic thud of his fists against the leather echoes through the nearly empty space.

I nod to the grizzled old man behind the counter—the owner, I remember. We exchange a few words, but his eyes keep darting to Leon. There’s concern there, mixed with a hint of pride. He still sees Leon as that scrappy kid who used to sneak in after hours to train.

Finally, I make my way over to Leon. I lean against the ropes surrounding the ring, watching him for a moment. His form is perfect, each punch delivered with precision despite the obvious emotional turmoil behind them.

‘Want to talk about it?’ I ask, knowing full well what the answer will be.

Leon doesn’t pause. ‘Not really,’ he grunts, landing a vicious right hook.

I nod, respecting his wish for silence. But I also know Leon. I know he needs to get this out somehow. ‘Fair enough,’ I say. Then, after a beat, ‘Want to spar instead?’

For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse. But then he stops, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He turns to look at me, and the pain in his eyes is almost physical. ‘Yeah,’ he says finally. ‘Yeah, okay.’

We move into the ring, both of us falling into familiar stances. It’s been a while since we’ve done this. We circle each other, neither making the first move.

Then, suddenly, Leon lunges. His fist comes flying toward my face, but I manage to dodge at the last second. I counter with a jab to his ribs, which he blocks easily.

As we trade blows, I can feel Leon starting to loosen up. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, his movements becoming more fluid. And then, between punches and blocks, he starts to talk.

‘I fucked up, Maddox,’ he says, his voice raw.

I dodge another punch, using the momentum to land a soft blow to his side. ‘Yeah, you did,’ I agree, because there’s no point in sugarcoating it. ‘But the question is, what are you going to do about it now?’

Leon falters for a moment, giving me an opening to sweep his legs out from under him. He goes down hard, but rolls back to his feet almost immediately. ‘I don’t know,’ he admits, circling me again. ‘I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to fix this.’

I feint left, then come in with a right hook that Leon barely blocks. ‘Maybe not,’ I say. ‘But you have to try. For Ophelia’s sake. For the pack’s sake.’

Leon nods, his eyes never leaving mine as we continue to spar. ‘I’ve been trying to find her for weeks,’ he says. ‘Ever since I finally managed to track her down to the Scent Bar. I wanted to make things right, to explain…’

‘And now?’ I ask, ducking under a high kick.

‘Now?’ Leon laughs bitterly. ‘Now she’s in our house, in heat, being taken care of by my pack. My bondmate. And she hates me. As she should.’

I pause, lowering my guard slightly. ‘She doesn’t hate you, Leon,’ I say softly. ‘She should. But I could tell from the moment she saw you, that’s not the case. She’s hurt. Confused. Scared. But I don’t think she hates you. It would probably be easier if she did.’

Leon takes advantage of my momentary distraction, landing a solid punch to my gut. I wheeze, doubling over, but manage to block his follow-up strike.

‘She should,’ Leon agrees, his voice breaking. ‘What I did to her… it’s unforgivable.’

I straighten up, meeting his gaze. ‘Yeah. It was.’

We continue to spar, our movements becoming more intense as Leon works through his emotions. I can see the guilt, the self-loathing, the desperate need for redemption in every punch he throws.

‘I love her,’ Leon admits suddenly, the words seeming to surprise even him. ‘I never stopped. I was just too young, too stupid to realize it back then. And I…’ His voice breaks and for the first time since I’ve known him, I think he might actually cry. Instead, he clenches his fists so hard I see a trickle of blood and sweat drip down them. ‘I’ve ruined everything.’

I step back, lowering my hands. Leon does the same, both of us panting from exertion. ‘Maybe,’ I tell him firmly. ‘But you were looking for Ophelia, and well… you found her. She found us. She’s our fucking scent match. I don’t believe in that much coincidence. Maybe there’s still a way we can figure all this out.’

Leon looks at me, hope and doubt warring in his eyes. ‘How?’ he asks, and in that moment he sounds so broken, so lost. ‘How do we move forward from this?’

I step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘I think that’s up for Ophelia to decide,’ I say. ‘First things first, we need to help her through her heat. Then, if she’s willing, we talk—all of us, together.’

‘And if she isn’t willing?’ he challenges. There’s something in his tone that makes me wary. Like he’s already come to that decision on his own.

‘What are you saying, Leon?’ I demand.

He takes a deep breath, looking out at the mural painted along the far wall across the cinderblocks. An artist’s rendition of the cityscape that’s started to peel and fade after all these years.

‘I’m saying that if Ophelia wants me to, I’m leaving the pack,’ he says in a tone of somber resignation.

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. ‘Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a decision you just came to tonight?’

‘Because it isn’t,’ he admits with a shrug of defeat. ‘Even before I knew it was her… I knew I couldn’t ever take another omega. And I’m the thing that’s been holding the rest of you back from what you want, what you deserve, for long enough.’

‘You never told us,’ I murmur, unable to help the hurt I feel. ‘Why?’

Leon’s brow wrinkles, as if the answer should be obvious. ‘How could I? After what I did… how could any of you look at me the same again?’

I sigh. ‘We couldn’t. But we’re pack, Leon. You should have told us. Maybe we could have found her sooner, together.’

Guilt flashes in his eyes. ‘I know,’ he murmurs. ‘I know.’

‘Come on,’ I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘You could use a drink.’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I’ll be alright. You should go back to the nest, be with Ophelia and the others. She needs you.’

I never imagined anything could divide my loyalties to my pack, but he’s right. Every second I’m away from Ophelia, I feel a growing sense of unease. Even if she’s surrounded by overprotective alphas who have already proven they’ll rally together to protect her. Even from one of our own. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to the hotel,’ he says, raking a hand through his sweat damp hair. ‘Once I wear myself out here. Probably better I keep a distance, at least until she’s out of heat.’Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

‘Yeah,’ I concede, even if my instincts as a beta are geared toward keeping the pack together. Right now, this is about what Ophelia needs. ‘Probably. Just… don’t wallow too much, okay? You’ve spent years hating yourself in secret, and that hasn’t done shit. If you’re really sorry, it’s time to face the music. And whatever Ophelia decides.’

‘You really don’t pull any punches, do you?’ he asks dryly.

I give a short laugh. ‘Nope. Someone’s gotta keep you alphas in check.’

He snorts. ‘I guess you do.’