Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Knox
Iwake up to the sound of someone’s phone buzzing incessantly and the smell of sex, sweat, and satisfied omega.
The bed is a disaster zone. Sheets tangled, pillows on the floor, one questionable wet spot that nobody’s going to acknowledge out loud.
Mia is draped across my chest like a boneless cat, her hair a complete riot, breathing soft and even.
There are bite marks on her shoulder. Fingerprint bruises on her hips.
A hickey on her inner thigh that I’m pretty sure is Rhys’s handiwork.
She looks thoroughly, completely, devastatingly wrecked.
And fuck if that doesn’t make me want to go another round.
The phone buzzes again. Declan groans from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “Someone turn that off before I throw it out the window.”
“It’s yours,” Eli mumbles, his voice rough with sleep. He’s on Mia’s other side, one arm possessively wrapped around her waist even in unconsciousness.
“I don’t care. Throw it out anyway,” Declan mutters, but he’s already fumbling for the nightstand, grabbing his phone with the resigned air of someone who knows the universe won’t let him sleep in.
He squints at the screen. Frowns. Then sits up abruptly, fully awake.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
That gets everyone’s attention. Rhys lifts his head from where he’d been sprawled half off the bed, looking like he’s ready to fight something. “What?”
“Email from Mia’s property manager,” Declan says, his tone going flat and dangerous. “Forwarding a ‘formal complaint’ from Carol fucking Beechman.”
I’m suddenly wide awake, every protective instinct firing at once. “What kind of complaint?”
“Wait,” Rhys interrupts, frowning. “Why is her property manager emailing you?”
“Because I handled the whole thing with him for the burst pipe,” Declan says, not looking up from his phone. “I told management to route all communications through me so they wouldn’t stress her out while the fans were running. Apparently, they decided that applies to eviction threats, too.”
I’m fully awake now. “Read it.”
“Unauthorized tenants. Lease violation. Excessive overnight guests. She’s demanding an inspection within twenty-four hours to verify occupancy compliance.”
“She what?” Mia’s voice is muffled against my chest, but I can hear the sleep-fog clearing, replaced by something stressed.
Declan’s jaw tightens. “She CC’d the property manager and three HOA board members. Very official. Very formal. Very much a ‘I’m going to make this a legal problem’ kind of email.”
“Let me see.” Eli is already extracting himself from the bed, reaching for the phone with the intensity he gets when he’s about to dismantle a problem piece by piece.
Mia sits up, and I immediately mourn the loss of her warmth. She’s pulling the sheet around herself, which is fucking adorable considering what we did to her last night, but her expression is stressed. Worried.
Pissed.
“She can’t do that,” Mia says, but there’s uncertainty in her voice. “Can she? I mean, you guys don’t officially live here. You’re just…visiting.”
“We’ve been here every single night, Mia,” Declan says. “We’re working from your house. We’ve basically moved in without actually moving in.”
“Technically,” Eli says, still reading the email, “the lease defines guests as ‘temporary visitors not exceeding fourteen consecutive days.’ We haven’t exceeded that. But Carol isn’t arguing math. She’s arguing ‘nuisance’ and ‘moral turpitude.’”
“It doesn’t matter if she’s technically wrong,” Mia says, her voice going small, and I fucking hate it. Hate that this dragon lady can make her doubt herself. “She’s making me a liability. My property manager isn’t going to fight the HOA for me; they’ll just cut the lease to avoid the drama.”
“Doesn’t mean we’re letting her win,” I growl, tightening my arms around Mia.
“The property manager wants to schedule an inspection,” Eli continues, scrolling through his own phone now, pulling up what I assume is Mia’s lease. “Says he has to comply with HOA regulations. Sounds like he doesn’t want to, but Carol’s forcing his hand.”
“Of course she is,” Rhys growls. He’s sitting up now too, running a hand through his hair, which is sticking up at angles that would be hilarious if I wasn’t so fucking angry.
“She’s targeting Mia because Mia embarrassed her.
She stood up to her for us, and Carol’s been waiting for an excuse to strike back ever since. ”
Declan nods. “One hundred percent she saw the showdown on the lawn yesterday, too. She was probably peeking through her blinds the whole time. A pack threatening one alpha in broad daylight? She definitely saw that as ‘disruptive behavior’ and is playing her hand.”
Mia makes a frustrated sound, pulling her knees up to her chest. “This is so stupid. It’s my house. I pay rent. I’m not bothering anyone. Why does she even care?”
“Because you’re not following The Rules,” I say, making air quotes. “You’re not being the quiet, compliant little omega she thinks you should be. You’re loud and happy and fucking four guys who don’t give a shit about her bullshit existence.”
“Knox,” Eli says warningly.
“What? I’m right.”
“You’re not wrong,” Eli sighs. “But getting angry doesn’t solve the problem.”
“Sure it does. I vote we tell Carol to fuck off and mind her own business.”
“That’s not how lease violations work,” Eli says, but I can see him thinking, that smart brain of his already running scenarios.
My gaze slides to Mia. She’s trying to hold it together, but I can see the stress creeping in. The worry. The fear that maybe she’ll have to choose between us and her home.
Fuck that.
Fuck that so hard.
Before I can formulate a plan, there’s a sharp knock at the front door. Not a polite knock. An aggressive, I’m-here-on-official-business knock.
We all freeze.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Declan mutters.
Another knock, louder this time. Then a voice that makes my blood pressure spike. “Ms. Matthews? This is Carol Beechman from the HOA. I have your property manager with me. We need to speak with you immediately regarding a lease compliance issue.”
“She did not,” Mia breathes.
“She absolutely did,” Rhys says, his voice going dangerously low.
“At eight-thirty in the morning,” Eli adds, checking his phone. “On a Saturday.”
I look at Mia, who’s gone pale, clutching the sheet tighter. Her scent shifts. Sweet omega giving way to stress and anxiety. And something in me just…snaps.
A cold, fuck-this-entire-situation kind of snap.
“Get dressed,” I say, already rolling out of bed and grabbing my pants from where they’d been flung across the room last night. “All of us. We’re handling this right now.”
“Knox—” Mia starts.
“Trust me,” I interrupt, pulling my shirt on inside-out and not caring. “Just trust me.”
Another knock. “Ms. Matthews, I know you’re home. Your car is in the driveway, and I know for a fact the residents of 126 are in there with you, which is actually a cohabitation violation I’d like to discuss—”
“Give us a minute!” Declan calls toward the stairs, his tone perfectly pleasant in that way that means he’s two seconds from violence.
We scramble into clothes. Mia pulls on leggings and a sweater, and looks about two seconds from either crying or committing murder. Possibly both.
“Deep breath,” Rhys murmurs to her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ve got this.”
“Do we?” she asks, her voice small.
“Absolutely,” I say, voice flat and hard. Nobody is touching her.
We troop to the front door as a unit. I position myself slightly in front of Mia, with Rhys and Declan flanking, and Eli at her back. Pack formation. Protective and unmistakable.
I open the door.
Carol Beechman stands on the porch in what I can only describe as her battle armor.
A pressed pantsuit in beige (of course), sensible heels, and a clipboard clutched in her hands.
Next to her is a middle-aged man in wrinkled khakis and a polo shirt who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. The property manager, I presume.
“Ms. Matthews,” Carol says, her eyes sweeping over all of us with barely concealed disdain. “And…guests. I brought Fred.” She gestures to the property manager like he’s a weapon she’s about to fire.
Fred offers a weak, grimacing nod.
“Ms. Beechman,” I say pleasantly. “What can we do for you at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning?”
Her eyes narrow at me. “You can start by explaining why there are four unauthorized tenants residing at this property in violation of both the lease agreement and HOA regulations.”
“We’re not tenants,” Declan says smoothly. “We’re guests.”
“For four consecutive nights?”
“The HOA guidebook says fourteen consecutive days.” Eli crosses his arms. “We’ve been here for four nights total. That’s well within the guest policy.”
Carol’s jaw tightens. “That is clearly not the spirit of the rule.”
“The lease doesn’t regulate spirits, Carol,” Eli says dryly. “It regulates nights. And we’re under the limit.”
Fred clears his throat. “Look, I don’t want to make this a big thing. But Ms. Beechman has filed a formal complaint with the HOA, and as the property manager, I’m required to investigate. If I could just do a quick walk-through to verify—”
“No,” Mia says, her voice small but firm.
Everyone looks at her.
“No?” Carol repeats, like she’s never heard the word before.
“No,” Mia says again, stronger this time. “You don’t get to show up at my house at eight-thirty in the morning and demand to inspect my home. That’s not how this works.”
“According to Section 12 of your lease—” Carol starts.
“According to Section 12 of her lease,” Eli interrupts, pulling out his phone and scrolling with the efficiency of someone who’s already memorized the entire document, “the property manager may inspect the property with twenty-four hours written notice. You’ve provided approximately zero hours verbal notice. So no, you may not come in.”
Fred shifts uncomfortably. “Ms. Beechman said this was urgent—”