Knot The One They Want

Chapter 30: Sash, The Figure Skater

Lorali

Falcon’s Ice Rink. That’s what the large sign outside the arena in the middle of nowhere declares.

The rink isn’t in the city, so the trip here felt long and almost endless, the place itself is strikingly modern.

The paint on the exterior looks fresh, as if it was only just reapplied, gleaming under the pale sky.

Inside, the ice rink is surrounded by seats that look and rise like steps, tier upon tier, giving the impression of a frozen fortress.

In the corner, a small food shop glows with neon lights, promising warmth and snacks, but none of that holds my attention.

The further I walk from the entrance, the closer I get to the ice and to her.

A woman with jet‑black hair, deep brown eyes, and rosy lips spins across the rink, her body a blur of grace.

One leg stretches high, the other steady beneath her, her long hair whipping around as she turns. She looks ethereal, as if the ice itself bends to her will.

The arena smells faintly of her scent which is of lemon mingling with the cold. That scent tells me she’s an omega, like me, though older than I am and younger than Yurena.

I stand frozen, mesmerized by the freedom in her movements.

She glides effortlessly, then leaps, swirling in the air before landing cleanly back on her skate. Watching her feels like a heavy stone lifting off my shoulders, as if her dance is unravelling the weight I carry.

I lose myself in her rhythm, in the way she owns the ice, and I stand there for fifteen minutes, maybe more watching until the sound of the big metal door opening behind me drags me out of my peace.

I turn to see a herd of buff men storming in, some shirtless despite the cold or wearing Falcon jerseys.

Their voices are loud and their laughter echoes, their presence shattered the serenity of the rink.

I press myself closer to the wall, trying to make myself invisible. It works, most of them don’t even notice me, some even bump into my side as if I’m nothing.

"Yoh, Sash, it’s 13:00pm. Your time’s up. It’s Falcon’s rink now!" one of them shouts, his voice echoing across the ice.

Sash. I wonder if that’s her name. It must be. These boys are too young to be calling her by a nickname, Alma would frown on that especially the "yoh" part.

"What are you doing here?" A menacing voice growls suddenly, cutting through the noise. His body looms over me, casting a shadow that swallows me whole, shielding me unconsciously from the stampede of men.

I gulp, my throat dry, and look up to see Augustus glaring down at me, his face twisted in anger. He clearly wasn’t expecting me.

Quickly, I pull the lunch box from the sash across my chest. "Walter asked me to deliver lunch for you. He doesn’t want you eating takeout anymore," I say, stretching the box toward him, stopping just short of pressing it against his massive chest.

His torso is broad, sculpted, eight‑packed, divine in its strength, he looked delicacy.

"I don’t fucking want it. Take that shit back and don’t come here again," he seethes.

He hates me. I can feel it in every word with every glare he shoots me. But I don’t care. He’s not my fated mate, not even my scent match. His hatred means nothing to me.

On impulse, I rise onto my tiptoes and hurl the sash over his neck.

"What—" he starts, but I silence him, pressing my hand over his mouth.

"Don’t shoot the messenger," I whisper sharply. "I’m only doing what your omega demanded of me. If you have a problem with this, take it up with your mate. Now I’m going to leave, and you are going to take this like a good little boy. If you don’t, I’ll scream and ruin what’s left of your career."

I offer him a tight smile, then duck under his arm and speed‑walk out of the rink, my heart pounding.

I can’t believe I just did that. What spirit possessed me to run my mouth like that? I’ve never spoken back to any of them before. I’m proud of myself, proud that I finally stood up, but I know this will come back to bite me later.

Whatever. At least this time, if I’m in trouble, it’ll be for something I actually did.

I reach into my pocket and pull-out Oracle’s sock, pressing it to my face and inhaling deeply. His scent floods me, easing the ache in my shoulder just enough to help me breathe normal again. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

It’s pathetic, I know, clinging to something so small and of someone who rejected me, but it works, it dulls the pain and quiets the bond’s constant pull.

Today is the happiest I’ve been in a very long time. My chest feels lighter, my thoughts less suffocating. All because of her. The figure skater.

I can’t stop replaying the image of her gliding across the ice, her body spinning with effortless grace, her hair flowing like black silk in the cold air.

I imagine myself on the ice one day, skating exactly like her, copying her movements, perfectly my own body free and unbound. I picture the sound of blades cutting into the ice, the rush of wind against my face, the crowd fading into nothing as I move like her.

Of course, I know it will never happen. Things like that aren’t meant for me. But dreaming doesn’t hurt anyone.

As I make my way through the parking lot, I copy her movement in a way I’m sure is pathetic my mind is filled with her. Her scent, her movements and her presence.

Sash.

Who are you?

Augi

"Guess who’s getting married!" Gabs, short for Gabrielle, shouts standing on the benches of the changing room, swinging the jersey, he’s supposed to be putting on high in the air like a victory flag.

He’s our goalie, and a bundle of pure joy, the kind of man who can find the good in anything, even being cheated on.

"No way, you’re marrying Brittany?" Rex exclaims, tugging his shirt over his head.

"No, I broke up with Brittany months ago. I’m with Jade now," Gabs scoffs, grinning.

"Man, you should have told me sooner. Now I can finally go after Brit since you fumbled the bag," Rex laughs, pretending it’s a joke, but I know him too well.

He’ll contact Brittany the moment training ends today, and by tonight they’ll be fucking. Rex is a playboy through and through, and Brittany, the ex-puck bunny, won’t resist.

I know Rex well. And I’d like to believe I know Lorali. I’m the one who fetched her from Alma. She’s supposed to be weak, fragile, a little bunny scared of everything in this world. So why is it that today I saw something entirely different?

She looked me in the eye and told me off as if she were untouchable, as if she wasn’t at the mercy of my pack.

For the past month, it’s been radio silence from her. Radio silence! As though nothing we did bothered her. Well, not we.

I haven’t done anything to her, other than that car ride, I haven’t spoken to her since. I avoid her. I don’t even let her clean my room.

Each time Yurena orders me to do something to her, anything at all, I can’t. My body refuses.

Each time I even think of pulling some bullshit, the image of her smiling face the day she left Alma flashes in my mind, disrupting me, making me feel guilty.

I can’t even ignore her presence, so I choose to avoid it.

The way she looked at me today, it was as if the same light that was in her eyes when I fetched her was back. And I can’t help but smile at that.

I know I shouldn’t be happy. It means all the work the pack has done was for nothing. It means we’re nowhere close to breaking her, nowhere close to making her leave.

"What are you holding there, Center?" Rex asks suddenly, his hands clamping down on my shoulders, his eyes glued to the metal tiffin in my hands.

"Mind your business, Rex," I snap, shaking him off as he tries to touch it. I rise from the bench and gently place it in my locker.

"If I find out that you touched it, I promise I’ll break your hands." I slam the locker shut, the sound echoing through the room. Rex gulps, knowing I always make good on my threats.

"Chill, man. I was just asking," he says quickly, waving his hands to surrender.

"All of you are invited to my wedding! You better look good, or else Jade won’t let you in the venue, she doesn’t want anyone ruining her aesthetic!" Gabs shouts, his voice booming with excitement.

Cheers erupt instantly. Some of the players lift him up, carrying him around the room as they sing wedding songs, their voices loud and off‑key, but full of joy.

And I sit there, silent, my mind still caught on Lorali’s eyes, her defiance and her light.