Page 127 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

The phone buzzed in my hand, and I nearly fumbled it in my rush to read her message.

Kit:

I’m okay. Just worried about you all. Tommas is being sweet. He’s trying to distract me with old family stories.

Of course he was. Tommas always had a way of making the worst situations seem less dire with his endless supply of anecdotes and banter.

Marco:

He’d better not be telling you the one about me and the goat.

I could almost hear her laugh as I imagined her reading that. The tension in my shoulders eased just a fraction when the phone buzzed again.

Kit:

?? That’s the first one he told me. Poor goat!

I grinned, remembering that ridiculous night and how we’d all laughed so hard we cried. The memory was a small balm on the rawness of this evening.

Marco:

Tell Tommy he’s in for it now. I’m gonna find the most embarrassing one to tell you when I get home.

Kit:

Promise?

I knew her question was heavy with unspoken meaning. She was scared we wouldn’t be coming back.

Marco:

We’ll be home soon, Angel. Promise.

I slipped the phone into the pocket of my jeans, then scrubbed a hand over my face.

Damn, did I want to get back to my Omega. I needed this shit over as fast as possible, which meant I had to focus. My brothers would kill me if I fucked this up.

You’ve got a job to do. So do it.

I pushed everything from my mind, trying to embody Emilio. That man could flip from dad to a mafia don in a second flat. It was a skill I had never truly admired until right this minute.

A cold draft swept through the building, cutting through layers of clothing like a knife, bringing with it the smell of rust and engine oil. The darkness past the loading bay doors feltominous, all of us studying the shifting shadows, anticipating the monsters’ arrival.

There was no sign of the Valentinos yet.

But just because we couldn’t see them, didn’t mean they weren’t watching. Waiting. Biding their time to make the most strategic move.

A prickle of unease skittered along my spine.

I kept a vigilant eye on my surroundings—my hand twitching near my gun—poised and ready. Scanning the warehouse floor once more, I took in the organized chaos.

The shipment was almost fully unloaded, crates stacked high as men bustled around with the efficiency of worker ants. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, yet an unshakable tension lingered in the air. It felt like the charged stillness before a storm broke, the world holding its breath, bracing for the first crack of thunder.

I forced myself to concentrate, to stay sharp, but the tightening knot in my chest wouldn’t ease. An inexplicable sense of dread gnawed at the edges of my mind, warning me that something was…wrong.

Ignoring my instincts had never ended well, and right now, every fiber of my being urged me to leave and get back to Kit. But I couldn’t—not yet.

And that feeling—that bone-deep, unshakable sense of foreboding—loomed over me like a ticking bomb, ready to explode.

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