The sixth falls apart again.
The panic surges back—a wave that tightens my chest and steals the rhythm and I'm gasping again, fingers clawing at his shirt.
"Stay with me." His voice is low. Close. Not a command—a lifeline. "You're right here. Feel my hands. Feel the floor under you. You're not somewhere else. You're here."
His bound hands press flat against my back. The zip ties dig into my spine but the pressure is grounding—solid, real, something my body can anchor to.
"Tell me five things you can feel," he says. "Anything. Doesn't matter what."
"Your—your shirt. The concrete. It's cold. Your heartbeat. The—the fluorescent light is buzzing. And your hands. On my back."
"That's six." His chin settles on the top of my head. "Overachiever."
A sound escapes me. Not a laugh. But close enough. The knot in my chest loosens a fraction. Then another. My breathingfinds his rhythm again—slow, deliberate, in through the nose, out through the mouth—and this time it holds.
"There you go," he murmurs. "There you go. I've got you."
The panic recedes. Not gone—crouching in the corner, waiting—but manageable. I can breathe. I can think.
"Talk to me," Bane says. His chin rests on the top of my head. "Tell me what you're scared of."
"I don't—" My voice cracks. "I just… still don’t understand everything, and I’m scared. Last time—during my heat at the house—I couldn't stop. I was begging. For hours. Nothing was enough. No matter what you—" I press my face harder into his chest. "I don't understand my own body. I don't understand what it wants or when it stops orifit stops. I just know I couldn't think and I couldn't control myself and I—"
"Hey." His bound hands press against the back of my skull. Gentle pressure. "Can I explain something to you?"
I nod against his shirt.
"Your body wasn't broken during that heat. It was doing exactly what it's designed to do." His voice drops. Low. Steady. The vibration of it travels through his chest into mine. "An omega in heat needs to be knotted. That's what the ache is—the emptiness, the cramping, the feeling like nothing is enough. It's your body asking for a knot. Not just sex. Not just penetration. The knot."
I'm quiet. My face burns.
The fear and tension in the room coils deep in my belly at his words.
"When an alpha is inside you and his knot swells—it locks. Twenty minutes. Sometimes longer. That's what your body is chasing. That's what makes the heat ease. Without it, the cycle just keeps building. Keeps cresting. Keeps demanding."
"So when I was—at the house—when I kept begging—"
"You were in agony because nobody knotted you. Your body was screaming for relief it wasn't getting."
The realization moves through me like something rearranging. All those hours. All that shame. The begging, the crying, the insatiablemore more morethat made me feel broken and monstrous. It wasn't madness. It was biology with an answer nobody gave me.
Bane pulls me closer and blows out a breath. “Of course you would be terrified, Max. Nobody taught you any of this.” He shakes his head and inhales my hair. “I should have known.”
I lean into him harder, letting his strength and deep voice anchor me. I can’t get enough for some reason.
"There's something else you need to know." His voice changes. Quieter. More careful. "During a knot—when an alpha and omega are locked together—there's an instinct. To bite. Right here." His bound hands shift. His thumb brushes the junction of my neck and shoulder, and every nerve in my body ignites. "The bonding bite. It creates a permanent connection. Psychic. Emotional. You'd feel what I feel. I'd feel what you feel. For life. It can't be undone."
His thumb traces the spot again. Slow. My breath stutters.
"And if you knot without biting?"
"Then it's physical. The knot releases. The heat eases. No permanent bond. No connection beyond what we choose."
I let that sink in for a second. He runs his finger along my pulse point again and I can’t help but lean into the touch.
"What about you?" I ask. "What happens to you. When my heat hits." I keep my face buried in his chest, too afraid to see his face.
"What do you mean?"
