Page 45 of Knot Broken
What feels like hours pass in tense silence, the ticking of the large clock on the waiting room wall echoing loudly in my ears, though in reality, it’s probably only been a matter of minutes. I jump when the double doors swing open, and a doctor strides purposefully into the room, calling out Odette’s name.
Fallon and I immediately stand up, still gripping each other’s hands tightly for support. Our packs silently form a protective wall behind us, their quiet strength grounding me even as my heart pounds erratically in my chest.
The doctor is a tall, middle-aged man dressed in pale baby-blue scrubs, a white lab coat thrown hastily over them, slightly rumpled from long hours. His sandy-brown hair is streaked with silver at the temples, and faint shadows beneath his sharp, green eyes hint at exhaustion, despite the calm professionalism of his expression. He pauses briefly, glancing behind us to the group of intimidating men, then sighs and turns back to Fallon and me.
“We’re her family,” Fallon says firmly, her voice slightly hoarse but unwavering.
The doctor nods once, accepting it without argument. “She’s resting now and is going to be okay. The surgery went well; we were able to stop the internal bleeding. However, her injuries are extensive.” He pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully. “She has several broken ribs, a fractured arm, and significant bruising. It’ll take some time, but physically, she will recover.”
Relief floods through me so sharply it nearly takes my breath away. Tears blur my vision, trickling down my cheeks as I process the good news. But then a darker question claws its way to the surface of my mind, impossible to ignore.
“Was she…did they—” My voice cracks, faltering as I choke on the words, fear and dread twisting painfully in my chest. I can’t even finish the question, too afraid of the answer I already know is coming.
The doctor’s gentle expression hardens briefly, his jaw tightening with unmistakable anger, though it quickly fades back into composed professionalism. I realize with clarity that his anger isn’t at me—it’s at the cruelty of whoever hurt Odette. His steady green eyes meet mine, compassion mixed with quiet fury.
“Yes,” he answers softly, his voice carrying the heavy weight of sorrow.
That single, brutal word shatters my world completely. My knees buckle suddenly beneath me, my legs no longer able to support the crushing weight of grief that hits me like a tidal wave. Strong, warm arms catch me immediately, wrapping securely around me as I collapse against a broad chest.
My beautiful, fiery Odette—her bright orange hair, her fierce attitude, her laughter that lights up every room—has been violated and broken. The agony of it tears through me, ripping apart my heart with every breath. I cling desperately to Dare as he holds me, burying my face into his comforting warmth, sobbing helplessly into his shirt.
Around me, I feel my mates tighten their circle protectively. Fallon is clutching Kingston like he’s the only thing keeping her here. The room suddenly felt impossibly small and unbearably cold.
The doctor waits patiently, giving Fallon and me a few quiet moments to regain our composure. After what feels like an eternity, I finally pull myself away from the steady comfort ofDare’s chest, my breathing ragged and uneven. Fallon squeezes my hand again, her own cheeks damp with fresh tears.
“Can we see her?” Fallon asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes plead desperately with the doctor.
He hesitates only briefly, then nods gently. “Of course. Just the two of you for now. She needs quiet, though—she’s been heavily sedated and will likely be asleep for a few more hours.”
I swallow hard, nodding in gratitude. Dare’s warm hand gently brushes my back, reassuring me silently that they’ll all be here waiting. Fallon grabs my hand slowly, and together we follow the doctor through the sterile, silent hallway toward Odette’s room.
The sound of our footsteps echoes quietly off polished floors as we walk, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and distant beeping of hospital monitors filling the heavy silence. My heart pounds painfully, anxiety squeezing my chest tighter with each step we take toward the room where my beautiful, fierce friend lies broken.
The doctor pauses at a door marked Room 312, gently pushing it open and gesturing for us to enter. Fallon steps in first with me close behind.
The room is dim, bathed in soft golden light from a lamp in the corner. The air smells strongly of antiseptic, mingled with her faint blueberry pancakes scent. My gaze immediately locks onto Odette’s sleeping form, and my breath hitches painfully in my throat.
She looks impossibly small and fragile lying there, pale skin nearly blending with the stark white hospital sheets. Her vibrant orange hair fans out gently against the pillow, a shocking contrast to the bruises blooming vividly along her jaw and cheekbone. An IV drips steadily into her slender arm, the quietrhythm of monitors reassuringly signaling she’s stable, though the sight is heartbreaking.
Fallon squeezes my hand tighter, her body shaking slightly beside me as fresh tears stream silently down her face. “Odette,” she whispers brokenly, voice thick with grief and love.
Slowly, we move closer, carefully settling into the chairs positioned at Odette’s bedside. Fallon gently takes one of Odette’s hands in hers, thumb brushing tenderly over her knuckles. I reach out hesitantly, lightly stroking the silky strands of her hair, careful not to wake her.
“We’re here, Odette,” I whisper softly, voice trembling as tears blur my vision again. “You’re safe now. We’re not going anywhere.”
I rest my forehead against the mattress, breathing in shaky, uneven breaths. Fallon mirrors my position, the two of us quietly holding vigil at our friend’s side, silently promising we won’t leave her alone again—no matter what comes next.
Jex
June 6th
10:22 A.M
I stand quietly beside Violet, watching as she fusses carefully over Odette, double-checking every detail for what has to be the sixth or seventh time. We’re gathered near the front entrance of Mercy General, the warm sunlight offering a sharp contrast to the lingering tension and sorrow still hanging heavily over us. The hospital entrance buzzes quietly aroundus—families coming and going, nurses and patients navigating wheelchairs and equipment, the scent of antiseptic occasionally drifting on the air.
“You sure you have everything you need?” Violet asks gently, concern etched deeply in her expressive eyes. My omega’s fierce loyalty radiates off her like a protective force field. Seeing her this worried, this fiercely protective, twists my gut. It kills me that the first time we meet her beloved friend Odette, it’s under circumstances as devastating as these.
Odette, who sits carefully in a wheelchair provided by the hospital, gives Violet a small, tired smile. Her bruised face is healing slowly, still marked with painful shades of purple and yellow, her vivid orange hair pulled loosely into a braid over one shoulder. She looks fragile but determined, gripping her small bag tightly.
