Knot Now, Maybe Knot Ever

Chapter 11: Maddox

Maddox, Tuesday, April 8th

I wake with Sebastian's warm body curled against mine, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm in the quiet morning. Sunlight filters through the tower windows, casting golden patterns across the nest. The sheets still carry our mingled scents from last night—cedarwood, leather, and Sebastian's hazelnut chocolate warmth. A gentle breeze carries the scent of pine through the partially open window, a reminder of the world beyond our sanctuary.

My arm tightens around his waist instinctively. In less than an hour, I'll leave him for our mission. The thought sends a protective surge through my body, and I pull him closer, burying my face in his neck to breathe him in. Two days. It's not long—I've been gone for weeks before—but something about this mission sits wrong in my gut. The intel is solid, the plan sound, but my alpha instincts are restless.

I trace idle patterns on Sebastian's bare shoulder, memorizing the warmth of his skin, the way he fits perfectly against me. He's been through so much—rescued from that trafficking ring, learning to trust again, becoming the heart of our pack. The thought of leaving him, even temporarily, makes my chest tighten with an almost painful intensity.

"You're thinking too loud," Sebastian murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as he turns in my arms.

"Just memorizing you," I reply, tracing the line of his jaw with my thumb. The truth is more complicated—I'm cataloging every detail, every scent, every sensation, as if my body knows something my mind hasn't figured out yet.

He leans into my touch, eyes still closed. "You better come back to me."

A low purr rumbles in my chest without conscious thought—my alpha's instinctive response to comfort my omega. "Always." The word is a vow, a promise I intend to keep no matter what the mission throws at us.

We rise reluctantly, Sebastian's hand lingering in mine as we pad across the plush carpet of the nest to the ensuite bathroom. The shower hisses to life under my hand, steam quickly filling the space. Sebastian steps under the spray first, water cascading down his body, highlighting every curve and plane.

I follow him in, my hands finding his hips, pulling him back against my chest. The water streams over both of us as I press my lips to his shoulder, then his neck, feeling his pulse flutter beneath my mouth. My omega. Mine to protect, mine to cherish.

"Mad," he breathes, leaning into me.

"Right here," I murmur against his skin. "Always right here."

The door opens behind us, and Jace slips in, already naked, his scent of bergamot and rain mingling with the steam.

"Room for one more?" he asks, though it's barely a question.

Sebastian reaches for him, pulling Jace under the spray with us. "Always room for you."

Water streams over the three of us as we share this moment of peace. My hands soap Sebastian's back while Jace washes his hair, our touches gentle but purposeful. This is what we do—we care for our omega, provide for him, protect him. It's as natural as breathing. Sebastian leans into our care, a soft whine of contentment escaping him as Jace massages his scalp.

"I hate when you leave," Sebastian admits, eyes closed as water sluices down his face.

The words hit harder than they should. I know he hates it—knows we all do. But this is who we are, what we do. The missions fund our life, keep us sharp, give us purpose. Still, the cost of leaving him behind weighs on me more with each departure.

Jace presses a kiss to his shoulder. "We'll be back before you know it."

"Two days at most," I remind him, turning him to face me. I need him to see the certainty in my eyes, the absolute conviction that nothing will keep me from coming back to him. "Not a minute longer."

We finish washing in comfortable silence, the weight of separation already settling between us. After drying off, we dress efficiently—mission mindset taking over. My body shifts into tactical mode, mentally reviewing equipment lists, entry points, contingencies. But my eyes keep tracking back to Sebastian as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts, the fabric hanging loose on his frame. The sight of him in my clothes sends a possessive thrill through me. Mine.

As we make our way downstairs, the scent of coffee and gun oil fills the air. Axel, Gabriel, and Warrick move with practiced precision in the kitchen, their bodies tense with pre-mission energy. Warrick hands Sebastian a mug of coffee as we enter.

"Sleep well?" Gabriel asks, not looking up from the tablet where he's reviewing our flight plan.

Sebastian nods, leaning against the counter. "Yeah. When do you leave?"

"Thirty minutes," I answer, accepting the plate of eggs Jace slides toward me. "Everything packed?"

Axel nods, his blue eyes sharp and focused. "Weapons checked and loaded in the SUV. Comms are charged."

"Route?" I ask Gabriel, though I already know. I reviewed it three times last night before Sebastian returned.

"Clear," Gabriel confirms. "Weather's good for the next forty-eight hours. No complications expected."

I nod, taking a bite of eggs I barely taste. My mind is already on the mission—the warehouse, the targets, the extraction. Simple in theory, but nothing is ever truly simple in our line of work.

We eat quickly, the routine familiar after years of missions together. Sebastian moves between us, straightening a strap here, checking a pocket there—his own ritual before we leave. I watch him through lowered lashes, committing every gesture to memory.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he says to Gabriel, adjusting his tactical vest.

Gabriel's usually stoic expression softens. "I promise."

Sebastian moves to Warrick next, his fingers lingering on the alpha's arm. "No unnecessary risks."

"Never," Warrick assures him, though we all know the nature of our work makes that promise impossible to keep. But Sebastian needs to hear it, and we need to say it.

When he reaches Axel, no words are needed—just a long look before Axel pulls him close, pressing his forehead to Sebastian's in silent promise. The gesture, so tender from our most volatile pack member, reminds me why we work so well together. We balance each other.

Jace wraps an arm around Sebastian's shoulders. "I'll keep these hothead alphas in line."

That draws a small smile from our omega. "You better."

I check my watch and nod to the others. "Time to move out."

The drive to our private helicopter pad is quiet, tension building with each mile. Sebastian sits beside me in the SUV, his hand resting on my thigh, thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of my pants. The simple touch grounds me, reminds me what I'm coming back to.

I cover his hand with mine, lacing our fingers together. "Two days," I say again, needing him to believe it as much as I need to believe it myself.

"Two days," he echoes softly.

At the pad, we unload our gear with military efficiency. Gabriel runs through his pre-flight checks while the rest of us secure our equipment in the helicopter's storage compartments. Every movement is practiced, automatic—muscle memory from hundreds of similar departures.

Sebastian stands to the side, arms crossed, and I can feel his worry through our bond. The connection between us hums with his anxiety, his fear, his love. It makes my alpha want to stay, to wrap him in my arms and never let go.

I walk over to him, cupping his face in my hands. His green eyes meet mine, so much emotion swirling in their depths it makes my chest ache.

"Two days," I remind him, my voice firm. A promise. A vow.

"Two days," he echoes, reaching up to grip my wrists. "If you're late, I'm coming after you."

The corner of my mouth quirks up. "I know you would." And he would—my fierce, strong omega who refuses to be treated like he's breakable. It's one of the things I love most about him.

I kiss him hard, pouring everything I can't say into the press of our lips—my love, my promise, my need to protect him even from across the miles. When we break apart, his eyes are bright but determined.

"Go," he says, stepping back. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you come back."

I nod once, turning to join my pack in the helicopter. As Gabriel powers up the engines, I watch Sebastian through the window, a solitary figure growing smaller as we lift into the sky. The roar of the rotors fills my ears, but all I can focus on is that image of him standing alone on the pad.

The helicopter banks, and I force myself to look away from Sebastian—our heart, there on the ground—focusing instead on the mission ahead. My alpha instincts war within me—the need to protect my omega battling with the duty that pulls me away. Each mile of distance feels like a physical ache, a tearing sensation that won't ease until I'm back in his arms.

"He'll be fine," Jace says quietly beside me, reading my expression. "He's stronger than he looks."

"I know." And I do. But knowing doesn't make leaving any easier.

I turn my attention to the mission briefing on my tablet, forcing my mind into tactical mode. Two days. We'll complete the job, get back home, and I'll never take another moment with Sebastian for granted.

The city falls away beneath us, and I let the alpha in me settle into hunting mode. Time to work.