All Chapters of Knot My Alpha: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

My father’s office has always felt like a war room—more granite and glass than comfort, no warmth to soften the sharp edges. Every piece of furniture is strategically placed, the lighting is cold and calculated, and the windows stretch from floor to ceiling like they’re daring anyone to try and hide.I’ve sat in this chair many times before, but this time, I’m not alone.Landon’s beside me, back straight, jaw locked, expression unreadable. It’s a kind of stillness I’ve come to associate with Alphas who know exactly how much power they’re holding back. He hasn’t said a word since we walked in. Just gave a stiff nod to my father and sat down with his arms folded like this whole conversation was already a waste of his time.My father doesn’t bother with small talk. He never does. He sits across from us, fingers steepled in front of him like he’s building tension on purpose. “Jacob told me what Tyler remembered. About the ring. The Alphas using Omegas. The exploitation. This is off reco

When Richard Turner enters the room, he doesn’t speak right away. He never does. He closes the door behind him, quiet and composed as always, and folds his hands behind his back as he surveys the room. Jacob straightens almost unconsciously beside me, shoulders stiffening, but his fingers remain where they are—threaded with mine on the couch between us. That simple point of contact is the only reason I don’t flinch.Something in Richard’s expression has changed since the last time I saw him. He’s not angry or unreadable or even cold, not in the way he usually is. He’s… quieter. More careful, somehow. Like someone’s handed him a bomb he has no idea how to disarm without collateral damage.I sit up slightly straighter, already feeling my stomach tighten with unease. “Is something wrong?”He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves to the armchair across from us and lowers himself into it, suit perfectly crisp, expression as composed as ever—but I can see it in the lines around his

I never imagined what it would feel like to step into a room like this.Not just a courtroom. Not a hearing chamber or a sterile government office. This is something else entirely. The walls are high, soundproofed, curved like they were built to keep every secret inside and every predator out. The air is colder than it needs to be, sharp with sterilized neutrality and the weight of names I don’t know carved in polished plates along the far wall. There are no windows, no spectators, no reporters waiting to dissect this moment with camera flashes and headlines. Just the circular arrangement of seats—twelve council members, an official recorder, and a silent shadow of power at every corner, arms folded behind their backs like stone statues.It should make me feel small, but it doesn’t, because he’s here.Jacob.Sitting in the shadowed row set aside for designated supporters. Eyes on me. Shoulders squared. Not a single trace of Beta musk anywhere on him. He didn’t walk in here today as a

The moment we step through the doors of the estate, I know something’s changing inside me.It starts slow.Not the heat—that crashes into me sudden and full-bodied, leaving no room for grace—but my choice. The moment I decide. The moment I finally let go. That part comes gently. Like breath. Like something inevitable.I stand just inside the entryway for a moment, still and breathless. My palms are sweating. My body feels too warm. There’s a tension building under my skin, like every part of me is waking up, like I’ve been asleep for years and only now remembered I have a body that needs.I press my palm flat to the wall, gripping the edge of the molding like it’ll keep me upright. My breath is shallow. My skin is too tight. The bond is thrumming, thick with Jacob’s scent, his presence, his worry. He hasn’t said a word yet, but I can feel him behind me—his energy crawling up my spine, his control barely held together at the seams.I don’t turn around. I can’t. I need a minute to fight

The sky is overcast above the Council Hall, but for once, it doesn’t feel heavy. The clouds are soft, thin like worn cotton, and the air smells faintly of rain—clean and cool and not like anything artificial. I never thought I’d be able to stand on these steps and feel peace, but here I am, standing just outside the building where I first cracked my ribs open to speak the truth, and for the first time in years, I feel like I’m standing on solid ground.Jacob is beside me, one hand in mine, the other tucked into his coat pocket as we watch the Council’s official liaison descend the stairs with a final nod of dismissal. There’s no crowd. No reporters. No fanfare. Just a few quiet guards and the soft hum of the sealed security gate behind us. The statement was released publicly five minutes ago, and the silence that follows feels less like absence and more like reverence.“They’re gone,” I say, barely louder than a breath.Jacob squeezes my hand. “They are.”My body doesn’t know what t