Page 75 of Knot Your Romeo
My breath catches. “Five? That’s all?”
Eli and Beck stare at me, and I realize I answered aloud, and I have to cover it up. “It is rare, but I don’t want it to define me.”
“But it’s the reason you’re on the run, so everything changes from now, Emmie. You need bodyguards,” Beck replies.
My mouth opens and then shuts. “Oh my god, no way.”
I’m sorry,Jude adds, settling back against the pillows like he’s realized he’s opened a massive can of worms.
It’s okay,I reply.
“Now you know about my stepfather. I want you all to call me Emmie,” I say. “That identity was about hiding, about being less than I am. If we’re doing this, I want to be called Emmie again. Emmie Darling. And I want everyone to know exactly who I am.”
“Emmie Darling,” Beck repeats, testing the name. “It suits you better. And yes, we are doing this.”
“What about Romeo? Your children?” I ask.
“Remi will be fine. I’m sure River will think I’ve hit the jackpot and Romeo. Well, he’s about to realize you were never his. And if he thought you were, then he should never have rejected you. He should never have wanted to use you.”
So we’re doing it. We’re testing this fragile new pack against the pressures of the outside world. And for the first time in my life, I’m not facing those pressures alone. I have my pack, and an absolute certainty that whatever comes next, we’ll handle it together.
28
Emmie
Walking across the campuson Monday morning feels like stepping into a new skin. Everything looks the same—the ivy-covered buildings, the manicured quad, the clusters of students hurrying to their first classes—but I feel fundamentally different. No, I feel transformed. My steps are confident, my shoulders back, my chin raised. The nervous energy that used to make me hide in my oversized hoody has been replaced by something steadier, more grounded.
I belong here. Not as someone trying to hide or blend in, but as exactly who I am.
The neat chin-length bob that Beck helped me get feels perfect now, sophisticated and deliberate rather than the result of malicious destruction.
I’ve paired it with clothes that actually fit properly—a fitted sweater in deep green, dark jeans that show my figure instead of drowning it, boots that make me feel tall and strong.
I’m no longer Jolie Masters, the housekeeper’s daughter, nor a girl who is trying to disappear. I’m Emmie Darling, and I’m done apologizing for existing.
Though, I hate that I'm not on talking terms with my mother.
“Oh my God, your hair!” I turn to see a girl from my biology class. Joey, I think her name is, approaches with genuine admiration. “It looks absolutely gorgeous. So chic and sophisticated. I wish I was brave enough to go that short.”
“Thank you,” I say, surprised by the compliment. “It was a bit of an adventure getting here, but I love how it turned out.”
“It really suits you. You look so confident and put-together.” She grins. “Like a whole new person.”
As Joey hurries off to her next class, I catch sight of Romeo and Cerise near the student union building. They’re standing close together, but their body language suggests tension rather than intimacy. Cerise’s perfectly manicured hand grips Romeo’s arm possessively, while he stares in my direction with an expression I can’t quite read.
Instead of ducking my head and changing course–like the old me would have done, I walk directly past them, my spine straight and my gaze forward. I don’t slow down, don’t acknowledge them, don’t give them any power over my movements. But I do catch the sharp intake of breath from Cerise. The way her grip on Romeo’s arm tightens to the point where he actually winces.
“That little bitch,” she hisses under her breath, loud enough for me to hear. “Look at her, prancing around like she owns the place. Someone needs to remind her exactly where she belongs.”
Part of me wants to keep walking, to avoid this drama entirely. But another part—the part that’s been finding my voice over the past few days—makes me turn around fully.
“Did Romeo tell you that his father came to my rescue after your assault?” I say, my voice carrying clearly across the space between us. The mention of Beck makes something complicatedflash across Romeo’s features. Cerise looks like she’s been slapped.
“No, he didn’t?” Cerise turns to Romeo.
“He was very kind,” I say with a sweet smile. “Took me to get it properly styled, made sure I felt taken care of. He has excellent taste in salons. And a very caring Alpha.”
Cerise makes a sound like a strangled cat, but Romeo’s attention is completely focused on me now. His nostrils flare slightly as confusion replaces the anger in his expression.
