Knot So Perfect (Scornedverse #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

SIMONA

I found this quote once about how redemption is a dark, treacherous path walked by the accused. It went on about how if we don’t hope, then there is no way to emerge from the other side a better person. I feel most of that works, except for the use of the word ‘accused’. It suggests a crime or wrongdoing has to be committed before a person can redeem themselves. But good people have a path to follow in the search for their own redemption.

Sometimes what they have to face is more treacherous and dangerous.

Given how quickly people judge, I think a lot of good people are written off without even getting a chance to explain. You think you understand someone’s motivation, but unless they’ve shared their story from beginning to end, you know nothing.

The adage “You haven’t walked a mile in my shoes” rings especially true in my situation. We all find our own way to cope, yet, like with our own unique stories, people never hesitate to offer unsolicited advice about how to “fix” a bad situation—without realising you’re already doing what you need to do. For me, coping meant adapting to their expectations, becoming everything they wanted. Conforming didn’t mean he/they won. It meant I carved out a space where I could survive. I know many will be horrified by the concept of staying, but sometimes leaving simply isn’t an option

In my heart I know what happened wasn’t my fault, but even those with the purest intentions can crumble when evil continuously whispers in your ear.

The day started badly; it ended worse.

Stars exploded in bright light, dancing in my vision. Not the stars in the night sky, those never hurt.

My mother’s outburst was finished before it started. But the damage was done. Irrevocably so.

When she realised she’d hit me, she gasped in shock. Her lip trembled. Her apology was clear in her scent, but instead of actually apologising, she only whispered my name.

“Simona.”

She actually waited, to see if I would jump in and apologize first. If I would accept part of the responsibility of her action. But I didn’t.

Wren’s hand shook as her finger traced the mark of her hand against my cheek. Her voice dropped octaves; it was laced with secrets and an appropriate level of sympathy as she spoke.

“This is the life we have been born into. We knew confirmation of your Alpha would arrive, so this act of surprise is unnecessary.”

My gaze dropped, following the stars still spotting my vision as they fell into non-existence. So symbolic really. Not for the first time, I wondered if the same would happen to me—if I would simply cease to exist.

It was an awful thought, but maybe… not entirely .

Her breath blew against my cheek as she whispered in my ear. “We all have been in your shoes, sweetheart.”

“Not quite, Mother.”

She scoffed. “That’s not true. They placed your father and me together, and we fell in love.”

My hair fell forward as I disagreed. Strands of it hid the tears that fell, but it also provided a shelter, a place I could hide the deep sadness that filled my heart.

“Our future was paved long ago, and now we are all enjoying the fruits of our sacrifices. Everything you could want is in front of you, all you need to do is accept.”

Each word she spoke felt like a weight, taking me further away from her.

“You are not the first to think her future isn’t her own. I’ve been there, so has Brody’s mother. Every person you meet has looked at the path in front of them with trepidation, but I promise after a while each step gets easier. One day you’ll wake up and wonder what all this fuss is about.”

Fuss? Fuss is throwing a tantrum about wanting another slice of cake and being denied. Fuss does not come anywhere near being told I am to be tied to Brody Henderson until the end of time.

“You will live a rich life, Simona, and you will find happiness. We have all had to sacrifice parts of ourselves but that’s what being in a pack is about. Everyone has to make allowances, to alter what they thought they wanted as they deal with how life will be. You will want for nothing, but you will receive everything you could ever hope for.”

Before I can stop myself, I answer her. “Just not love. Or happiness. Or even kindness.”

“Make it easy on yourself, Simona, and accept we all find those things when we look hard enough. Just like our family, and each of the founding families, we all get to enjoy our successes together, in beautiful homes, full of… ”

I stopped listening and let her talk without interrupting or arguing. Or we would have been there all day.

There’s a long history behind why the families agreed to a contract binding future generations to a pack before they were even born. The reasoning itself isn’t ground-breaking—it was a way to shift the founding families from rivalry to unity, forcing them to work together instead of against each other. The concept was adopted eons ago when life was completely different—not that I would have accepted it back then either. Yet, despite its archaic nature, the Alphas in charge of each family today remain committed to it. Including mine.

Everything about the founding families—their views, ideology, the way they live so ‘agreeably’, the money each of them hoard, their businesses—is so deeply interwoven. When you deal with one person, you quickly realise they are a voice piece for the collective.

“Simona,” she said, pressing her hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said.” I don’t lie, but it’s not entirely the truth either.

“I think we have shared enough. And now I have made you late,” she said quietly.

Wren is always quiet. Muted by design. And if I’m to believe her, all I have to do is look at her to see my own future. A life full of parties and friends, opportunities and great wealth—as long as I play the part. So long as I accept being owned by people I didn’t choose, all for the so-called greater good.

An offering almost.

I took a step away, getting ready to leave for school, but she stopped me.

“We all find our own peace, Simona. Some of us elect to embrace what the founding fathers have provided for us. If you would like that, there’s many businesses for you to work within. Or you might prefer to stay at home and tend to your pack with warm meals and a clean house being your only motivation for happiness. What you choose is up to you.” She takes a breath, and her voice crescendos. “Your place, however, is not to buck the system or to whine about how unfortunate you are. You are a part of this world, Simona. In case you also forgot, you are a Vanderling. Our status as one of the most respected among the founding families will not be undermined because you ‘do not like’ Brody Henderson.” She hooked her fingers to emphasise her words without raising her voice, but it was effective, and exactly like she intended.

I’m surprised neither of us flinched as the maternal bond between us finally snapped.

Our relationship was always tenuous. I grew up chasing a minute of her time, but I finally understand why she never gave it. I may be her child but my mother’s first love—her devotion—belongs to the life she and the others live.

“I will see you after school. And please remember we are dining with the Hendersons, celebrating the announcement of your union. Perhaps by then your mood will have improved.”

Her words were loaded with her expected obedience.

I rub my eyes, the memories still hurtful, even knowing Wren is but a puppet.

My heart races as my focus narrows in on the real source of much of my sorrow.

The afternoon sunlight streams into my father’s office, casting a warm glow over the rich cherry wood making it more welcoming and safer —two feelings I’d always associated with Lawson.

He had a habit of keeping the door wide open—not just to see everyone as they arrived home, but so we’d always see him there too.

I’m sure that’s part of my guilt—because I walked into his room on purpose. If I had seen myself in a mirror, I might have fixed myself before visiting him. But a part of me wanted him to see me like this too.

I've always been, and still am, defenceless against his pull. Lawson was impossible to stay away from - no one in my life was fuller of love and light than him. I could also trust him. He'd tell me if I was overreacting.

“Simona Vanderling, get in my office and tell me how your day went.”

When Lawson spoke, it was music to your ears. Even though he hadn’t infused a drop of his designation, I was instantly under his spell.

I moved as if I was drawn to him by a pulley.

He was distracted, but the second he saw me, whatever he was holding clattered onto the desk, completely forgotten. And when he stood fell into absolute silence, as if the noise has been sucked away.

Everything came to a pause. It was like time stopped as he took it all in. My clothes were ripped. I stunk of pain and embarrassment. And then there were the bruises.

I made sure not to look in his eyes as he registered it all. I didn’t need to see the emotions flit in his eyes in order to feel how angry he was. It was like standing next to a fire, watching it ignite from a flickering spark to a raging inferno. There was no middle ground, and I remember squeezing my eyes shut and breathing through the onslaught.

Lawson growled, clearing his throat and talking with his usual control. “Come here”.

Despite his storming emotions, my feet didn’t stop moving until I was safe in his arms. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, like the haven of his embrace.

I buried myself there, soaking in his strength. And once I was safe in his arms, he no longer held back, letting the rage pour out. In Lawson’s mind, every experience was an opportunity for me to learn, and for us to uncover truths together. He saw it as a way for me to toughen up.

“Tell me what happened,” he said. His words were clipped, lost under a rumbling growl.

I opened my mouth. And nothing happened.

I knew he hadn’t missed it, for the simple fact he squeezed me tighter.

For a while, Lawson couldn’t do anything but cuddle me. When he put some distance between us, the look on his face let me know he had already figured out what happened. And why I was suddenly at a loss for words. After a few steady exhales, he spoke, but his voice held all the telltale signs of his designation, turning his words into something I couldn’t ignore. “Tell me, Simona.”

As always, inside my thoughts everything worked fine. In fact, the volume was up and the words were flowing effortlessly, it was like I was yelling. “I caught Brody and another boy at school hooking up. I don’t know who the other person was, but it was pretty clear what they were doing. I ran, but Brody was faster. He caught me, barked in my face, stealing my freewill so I had no choice but to follow his command. The instant I did what he wanted, he laughed. Brody wasn’t finished being an asshole. In this next bark he made it impossible for me to tell you how he lashed out and hurt me. He twisted his words and infused his bark with his designation, so I’m not ever allowed to say what happened.”

All the words stayed trapped inside my head and locked inside my throat. In the awful silence, Lawson figures out I’ve been manipulated. “I’m sorry, Simona. I promise we will find a way to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

I try to speak, but no matter how I approach it, I have no choice but to stay silent. In time, Brody’s compulsion might fade but right this second, I’m not able to say a word about what he did .

Being bark sensitive is awful.

Being bark sensitive around a loving family shouldn’t be an issue but in the real world where people use others’ weakness to exploit a situation it is a real problem. Especially for an Omega. In my world, I don’t have a loving family either, aside from Lawson. And we’re doing whatever we can to fix it.

I’m not the first Omega with an issue, and I won’t be the last, but it sure does suck. I thought I was getting better, but given how today panned out, maybe not.

“Dad.” I hissed, frustrated when no other explanation came. I was fighting to keep the tears at bay—because I knew if even one fell, Lawson would lose all control.

Honestly, I was doing okay until he hugged me to his chest. The movement made fire race down my wrist as it pressed between us. I didn’t cry but I did grunt in pain. As soon as he heard, his arms became soft like clouds.

The way he held me might have loosened, but the bond we shared was flooded with his strength and reassurance. We stayed snuggled for one last second before he shifted gears.

He kept his voice soft, his tone measured, and even though he wouldn’t look into my eyes because he knew I wasn’t ready to face an Alpha, as my dad, he gave me his full attention. “Show me nice and slowly, Simona. You know I’m not angry with you, don’t you?”

I nod instantly.

Stepping away was hard, but he waited until I glanced at him, giving me a wink as encouragement. I took more steps, unsure how far he wanted me to go until he held his hand up as a sign for me to stop.

Then the look on his face shifted.

“God-dammit,” he snarled under his breath, his jaw snapped with a loud clank.

Lawson rubbed his hand down his face, perhaps to shield me from his anger, but it highlighted the flush to his skin. His presence was so huge no matter what he did to hide away, it didn’t help. When he looked at me—it was clear, he was back to making me handle things in real time. I came face to face with his Alpha—and he was pissed.

“Brody?”

My mouth opened, and inside my head I screamed yes. Lawson must have seen something in my eyes, or he just figured it out himself.

“Simona.”

My head swam with the effect of Lawson’s bark, and while it came from a place of good, it had the same effect as if it hadn’t—it took my choice away. I stood as still as a statue, unable to look away as Lawson slowly reclaimed his control. Bit by bit, the storm faded until all that remained in his eyes was empathy—shining just as brightly as the pride in the fact that I had faced him.

“I’m sorry I barked,” he said, his voice softer now. “But you know learning that most Alphas are good is just as important.”

“I know that.” I agreed.

“Good. Just because an Alpha barks doesn’t mean they’re always going to manipulate. I needed to remind you, and in turn you reminded me how far you have come.”

“Because of you.”

“No, Sim, because of you. We will beat this little shit at whatever game he’s playing, I promise you that. And when you are at Unity, you are going to flourish. Perhaps all those journals you filled with your secrets will become something to share with others,” he teased lightly, referring to how I like to write. “Or maybe you’re going to be a chef, making amazing food for people around the world to try. Or you might become an artist and use colour as your language. It does not matter what you do because I know you will blossom into the most beautiful Omega who will find a pack that sees you for who you truly are. They’re going to be awestruck not just by your beauty, but your strength and the way you see the world. If the last thing I get to see is you succeeding, Simona, so be it. First though, I am going to fix you up. Hop up into my chair.”

By god, there is something about sitting in his chair that takes me back to a time in my childhood where everything was full of happy innocence. I think it’s the way the leather scents so much like him, and I associated him with home. It was always warm even in the middle of winter.

Sitting in Lawson’s chair was as good as one of his cuddles. Leaving me there, he got busy getting supplies, but of course he also made sure to grab one of my blankets, wrapping it around my shoulder before going back for the first aid kit. He felt less volatile the more he had to do.

Except his face was flushed, his breathing more shallow than usual.

He squatted in front of me, his eyes full of his power and he leaned in, without explanation. “Did he bark at you?”

Lawson’s bark surprised me. I shouldn’t really be surprised because one of the tactics of overcoming an Alpha’s bark is a stronger Alpha trying to crack the foundation of the first compulsion.

As quick as he barked, I responded, showing him my teeth. An obvious sign of my trust in him but also a pretty good indicator of my frustration at not being able to talk yet.

I wish I knew why Brody’s bark carried similar credence to Lawson’s. Given that my father is a stronger Alpha, it didn’t make sense. But when I think of Brody, my heart fills with fear, and my thoughts slow down.

“I’m fixing you up, Simona, and then I am going to sort this out once and for all. ”

I opened my mouth, but this time Lawson silenced me with a look before giving me one of his smiles.

“Dad, you don’t need to go around and fix anything. He’s the only person besides us to know I have an issue with sensitivity. I’ll simply avoid him until I can’t. In the meantime, I think we should up the training, and try harder to fix the stupid, broken part of me.”

“No. This ends now. I will not let that monster do this to you. Your sensitivity to barks is something we’ll keep working on. But letting him spin that into a weakness—into something that makes you believe you’re broken? That kills me. You are absolutely perfect the way you are, Simona. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise will meet the same fate as Brody. I don’t care if it tears our families apart; you are not going to be his. It will be over my dead body.”

“That was already decided years ago,” I whispered, even as hope raced through me, so strong it made me want to scream.

“And I’m about to change everything in a five-minute conversation that we all should have had a long time ago. It’s preposterous, pushing our children together like this! Your mother and I argue constantly about it.”

“Mom and I had a fight today about Brody. She said I have to accept the alliance.”

“Wren is scared of the unknown. The other members of our family are worried we would lose everything. Together we’d make it though, I know we would.”

“I believe that.”

He gave me a quick cuddle and spoke against my ear. “You are the best part of us. You are also too good a person to be ‘owned’. Brody’s even said out loud on a few occasions that he doesn’t like you!”

And that part was also true. Brody absolutely hates me. I have no idea why, but he goes out of his way to remind me any time he sees me, which is how he also discovered I am bark sensitive. I tried to turn and leave one day, and he snapped at me to stop. I ended up in tears not just from the level of vitriol he spewed, but how I couldn’t move an inch to escape him.

“I will deal with your situation, and Brody, but it has to stay between us. Do you understand? You don’t mention to anyone, that includes our family, that I will be doing everything to get you free.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Anything.”

He cupped my face, already seeing my struggle to hold back tears. It was overwhelming—having the ending I’d hoped for finally within reach.

“I mean it, Simona, don’t mention this conversation to anyone. You stay quiet.”

He was considerate when he spoke. His volume and presence were barely there. But I’d always been besotted by my father. He was the only person who listened and saw me properly.

It only took a drop of influence for his word to wind deep into my submission, locking me forever under his command.

In my memories, parts of that afternoon stretch out, filled with tender times—jokes shared, plans for the future made. Lawson never wavered in his belief that I could, and would, master control of my bark sensitivity. But more than that, he constantly reminded me I could do anything I wanted.

It was only after that I remembered the sweat beading on his brow. And the way he kept rubbing his chest every few minutes. I thought he was trying to keep his own monsters at bay, while he tended my wounds.

I listened in horror at the hospital at the diagnosis. Weeks and months later, I never stopped wondering if I could have done something to prevent what happened .

Lawson suffered a massive heart attack. And since I was upstairs and the rest of the family was out, by the time I found him collapsed in his office, he had suffered irreversible damage.

The founding families were all told, because that’s what was part of the ethos of relying on our ‘community’.

Brody was one of the first to offer his condolences at the hospital. When he asked to speak privately, for one selfish moment I thought he was going to apologise for his part in the day, but all he did was laugh when he said, ‘This is all your fault’.

Now, months later, Lawson continues to get stronger physically and some of the sadness in my soul has started to shift. After endless hours of expensive therapy, he is able to walk and talk unaided. Lawson is now a different person; he also has no memory of that day or of the promises he made.

He remembers us having breakfast together, but his next memory is seeing the panic on my mother’s face. Sadly, that was days later when the doctors slowly woke him from his drug-induced coma.

Lawson is still without his memories, and I am locked silent by his command not to say a word about his plan, or what Brody did.

But even if I could speak, I wonder if anyone would want to hear what I had to say.