Page 120 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

When we’d first found her, there’d been nothing but a deep, resonant sadness in those pretty blue eyes of hers. But now, they were full of warmth and pure fucking sunshine.

It renewed my determination to eliminate the threats against her. Against all of us. My Kitten deserved a future, and damn if I didn’t want the vision that had been forming in my mind since we’d rescued her: a life where we were united and happy, ruling the empire my father and my father’s fathers had built, raising the next generation—our own little family.

Reluctantly, we clicked off the feed, then stood quietly in the middle of the warehouse, each in our own heads. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. I could feel Marco’s restlessness mirroring my own. Being away from Kit, even for a few hours, created an itch under my skin I was powerless to scratch.

I couldn’t put into words the intense draw that came with finding my scent match. Kit was my other half, the center of my universe, and all that mattered was that being apart felt wrong on a primal level.

But we had a job to do, a threat to eliminate, and until that was done, none of us would ever truly relax.

“At least she’s healing well,” I murmured, more to myself than to my brother. “But fuck, I hate being away from her.”

Marco nodded, and yet, his jaw clenched. “Yeah, me too. But it will be worthwhile if we can end this and rip every last Valentino apart piece by goddamn piece.”

I understood the feeling. The memory of that night—the crack of gunfire, Kit’s agonizing cry, the sickening bloom of red on her shirt—still haunted me. We’d come so close to losing her, just when we’d found her. The thought made me fucking sick.

Thankfully, our girl was a fighter. She’d pushed through the pain, followed every instruction from Doc. Her recovery thus far had been textbook, but I could see the slight wince when she moved too quickly and the way she favored her injured arm.

It left me feeling absolutely murderous. Which was why I’d finally pried myself away. Like Marco said—it was time to end this, to make the Valentinos pay for their sins. The sooner we took them out, the sooner we could move on with our lives and give our Omega the life she deserved.

“She’s really settling in, isn’t she?” Marco mused, lips tugging up on the side. “Making the place her own. It’s been nice.”

I couldn’t help but agree. In the weeks since we’d rescued Kit, she’d slowly but surely been putting her mark on our home. Soft throw blankets in rich jewel tones now draped over the backs of the sleek leather couches. Delicate potted orchids and succulents dotted the end tables and there were romance books on the shelves, each addition breathing life into the once sterile space. Her favorite mug, a whimsical thing with a sleeping kittencurled around the handle, now had a permanent place beside the espresso machine in the kitchen. And she’d adorned Beretta with a rhinestone encrusted collar that had his name engraved on a bone-shaped pendant.

Each small addition felt like a monumental, tangible sign Kit was beginning to consider our home her home, too.

“She asked me to grab some paint samples the other day,” I shared with a grin of my own. “Wants to add some vibrancy to the Omega suite.” Which currently had white walls, waiting for our woman’s touch.

Marco’s smile deepened. “We better start painting fast. I’m sure you’ve noticed her heat flares are coming more frequently. That’s probably why she’s nesting, putting her mark on our place. She could go into heat any day. And you know as soon as she does, none of us are gonna care if we’re in the middle of a home project. I don’t plan on letting her out of the nest, let alone off my cock once she’s—”

He cut off abruptly at the sound of the side door opening, announcing the visitor we’d been waiting for, but I chuckled under my breath, because I fully understood and agreed with his sentiment.

But he wasn’t wrong. Kit’s temperature spikes and the intensifying waves of her pheromones were becoming more frequent, and they were growing in strength. It wouldn’t be long now. Which was yet another reason to get this shit settled.

“Hello, boys.” My father wasted no time, his blunt demeanor cutting straight to the point. “I assume you didn’t call me down here for trivial matters. So, which one of you wants to tell me what’s going on?”

MARCO

Dimitri stood tall and looked his father in the eye. “I wanted to keep you informed. We’re setting up an ambush for the Valentinos.”

I braced for an explosion, knowing Emilio didn’t tolerate being told what to do by others, even his own sons.

“Good. No one makes a move against my family and lives.”

I released a sigh of relief, and I saw a miniscule amount of tension bleed from Dimitri’s shoulders as well. We’d both prepared to argue our point, but apparently we’d worried for nothing. Emilio was notorious for doing his best to keep business and family affairs as separate as possible, but the Valentinos had blurred that line, and it seemed we were all ready to make them pay.

“It’s obvious the Valentino’s plans for Kit changed on fight night.” I ran my hand through my hair, unable to stay still, needing some form of movement. “At first, they just wanted her back, but you should have seen the look on their faces when they learned she was our scent match.”

There’d been something deeper and far more calculating in Rocco’s eyes than I’d originally given him credit for. He was dangerous and volatile, a lethal mix of pissed off Alpha and slighted man.

“And the threats that asshole made about seeing her in pieces—” Dimitri added, barely able to get the words out past his growl.

I swallowed hard, doing my best to suppress my own snarl.

The moment Gio told me what that guy said, I wanted to wrap my own hands around the bastard’s throat and squeeze until the life bled out of him. I wasn’t typically the fighter inthe pack, but no one threatened my Omega and lived to breathe another day.

Then the Valentinos had the absolute fuckin’ gall to shoot at my mate. To try and kill her.

Emilio paced, his loafers clicking against the old concrete floor, each step echoing off the high ceilings and brick walls. He paused and turned to Dimitri. “Speaking of, have you been able to get anything new out of yourguest?” he drawled, referring to the asshat we’d captured on fight night.

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