Page 77 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

I leaned in. “I’m starting to reconsider my decision. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I whispered as quietly as I could.

I felt like an intruder, a fraud. An outsider.

And yet, I’d practically begged them to allow me to come to Nick’s funeral. I needed to pay my respects. To apologize, even if it just ended up being a silent plea to the wooden deity hanging on the cross behind the pulpit.

Guilt was a fickle mistress. I hadn’t killed Nick, but his blood stained my hands, refusing to fade no matter how many times I tried to reason with myself.

Despite their hesitance to drag me into their world, I’d also known my men wanted me by their side on such an emotional day.

Still, it didn’t stop me from feeling judged by scrutinizing mamas with their daughters by their sides who gazed at my Alphas with longing in their eyes.

It was obvious my mates were sought after. Regardless of their dangerous lifestyle, they were wealthy, powerful, and so handsome that one look from them often had me squeezing my thighs together.

But beyond the curiosity and unveiled dislike of the women, were the hard, assessing looks from the men, who were sizing me up, trying to gauge whether or not I belonged.

From the few people I’d brought myself to make eye contact with, it was clear they found me lacking.

Dimitri turned his head slightly, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “You belong here, Kitten. You’re our Omega and this is our family,” he murmured, his grip tightening reassuringly. I let his warmth soak into me, hoping to borrow some of his strength as well.

Thankfully, no one could smell me or my distress thanks to the copious amount of scent-neutralizers I’d slathered on. It was the only way Dimitri would allow me out of the house. Still, I was sure I looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Don’t let them see your fear. They’ll eat that shit up.” Tommas took the seat on my other side, having rounded the pews to slide into our aisle from my left.

I blanched. “I don’t think you’re supposed to curse in a church.”

Tommas’ lazy smirk tugged at his lips. “The big guy and I have an understanding.”

“You and God?” I questioned skeptically.

That grin widened. “Nah. Me and Father Francis.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Should I be worried about your soul?”

“Don’t worry, Kitten,” Dimitri purred from my other side, leaning in and sandwiching me between himself and his brother. “That’s what confession is for.”

“A couple ‘Hail Mary’s’ and some ‘Our Fathers’ and we’re good to go.”

I wasn’t sure that was exactly how it worked, but since I didn’t grow up in the faith, I refrained from questioning it. Especially because at that moment, a priest draped in black walked across the dais.

The tribute to Nick was beautiful, and when the service was over, my Alphas surrounded me as they led the way out back down the aisle.

A handful of older gentlemen in finely tailored suits caught my eye from the church balcony as we left. They stood conversing among themselves, almost as if they lorded over the gathering below. I looked away the moment one of them glanced in my direction, hoping they hadn’t seen me staring.

A sea of people milled about the steps as the crowd moved outdoors. Instantly, the air buzzed with hushed conversations. Curious glances were thrown our way as we passed by, and I quickly averted my gaze, letting the curtain of my dark hair shield me from the world.

We were nearly to the sleek black limo idling at the curb when a commanding voice rang out. “Dimitri, a moment, please.”

My mate stiffened almost imperceptibly at my side as a tall, imposing man strode purposefully toward us. He had salt-and-pepper hair and sharp, hawk-like eyes that seemed to miss nothing. An impeccably tailored black suit accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist. Gold rings glinted on his fingers and I caught a flash of the Rolex on his wrist as he clasped Dimitri on the shoulder.

I instantly recognized him as one of the men from the balcony, and despite their uncanny resemblance, I instinctively knew he was Dimitri’s father—Emilio Cristenello, leader of the Cristenello Mafia.

Power and authority radiated from him in waves, and I shifted, tucking myself partially behind Dimitri’s shoulder with his brothers at my back.

Emilio’s deep, resonant voice filled the space between us as he turned the full breadth of his attention to me. “And who might this lovely creature be?”

My Alpha’s hand tightened around my own, drawing me closer to his side. “Father, this is Kitania. Our Omega.” Pride and possessiveness laced his words, leaving no room for doubt as to his claim on me.

Equal parts elation and fear raced through me.

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