Page 36 of Knotted their Beauty

The scene of the crime.

He’s been walking it ever since we got here, booted the uniformed cops on site then started back and forth along the yellow tape, moving under the protective tenting in a grid pattern with his head down and a scowl firmly planted on his handsome face. It wasn’t until he

circled the spot where most of the body was found about six times then sprinted down the boardwalk that things changed.

They changed drastically, to be honest.

It was like watching him take his mask off and relax into his true form or some shit.

A shift in body language, he started talking to himself. He brandished the knife he just yanked out of the wood, then lost his shit to a degree.

And he seems almost… free?

Which should probably be a red flag, and a reason for me to haul ass to that penthouse and snatch Arlo out of it, but it isn’t.

It’s kind of fascinating, watching him work.

This case is obviously important, it’s eating at him, but the way he’s almost settled into whatever role he’s playing now is both unsettling and reassuring.

I have a feeling Arlo couldn’t be any safer than in the care of this slightly unhinged omega.

Or extremely unhinged, since he just yanked a board right off the walk then jumped into the water through the hole he made.

I quickly throw open my door and get out of my van, checking my pocket to make sure I have my own knife, then start making my way toward Ves as quietly as I can.

Yellow tape be damned, if there’s a nefarious reason he just did what he did, a dangerous one that means he could be in trouble, I’m going to be there to help if I can.

I’m about a foot away from the first line of police tape when Ves comes up for air with a gasp and I drop down into the sand so fast I get a mouthful of the shit.

I poke my head up and try to spit so I don’t choke, watching my omega swim back to the beach and start back to under the tent where the body was.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was his crime scene.

The way he’s walking it, how he’s moving through it. It’s not like cops on TV, like they’re trying to figure out what happened. It’s more like he’s trying to remember what happened.

Whatever he’s doing, Ves is good at it despite the way it’s clearly pissing him off.

I crawl forward and slip through one of the openings, keeping tabs on Ves the best I can without him noticing I’m here.

With how focused he seems to be, I don’t think I have much to worry about.

He crouches down next to the dark outline and holds out his hands, and oh my god that’s a fucking foot.

My omega has a fucking severed foot in his hand and playing in sand that is soaked in blood.

I thought I was fucked up.

Murder on the ice in front of tens of thousands of people, getting a thrill from the way it felt to have bones crunch under my fists and blood spurt between my fingers. That’s not normal, and the urge to repeat the actions in certain scenarios is just as concerning, but I didn’t play with the body after I killed that bastard.

Not that this is actually Ves’ kill scene, but still. He’s digging in bloody sand and that has to be another red flag if I’ve ever seen one.

Too bad I don’t really give a shit.

Ves is mine, just like Arlo is, and if it means my crazy has to roll with his, so be it.

Which is why I find myself getting to my feet and parting the vinyl before cautiously making my way over to where my scent match is losing his damn mind.

“It has to be here.”