Page 5 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

Like tonight’s rescue mission. It was almost too convenient. The moment I’d learned the Valentinos had purchased an Omega at the auctions, I’d staked my claim on the extraction. While I didn’t technically need one, it gave me a perfectly logical reason to invade their territory and dole out my own brand of justice without having to explain myself.

The last thing I wanted was to upset the delicate balance that existed between us and the surrounding families in neighboring cities. Our peace had always been tentative at best, and if I wiped out an entire family without a damn good reason, we’d be painting a target on our backs.

As it stood, the mistreatment of Omegas didn’t go over well with Alphas in any walk of life, which meant I was free to take care of this situation as I wished.

Two birds, one stone, and if something positive could come from all the bloodshed that was about to go down, it might helpoffset the black mark that was about to mar my soul—if it wasn’t already completely black in the first place.

The sound of Tommas chambering a round pulled me from my thoughts, but it wasn’t lost on me that the sound was as familiar as my own voice these days. Gone were the days of guilt over violence and fear over weapons. I’d barely started toddling when I learned what it meant to be the eldest born, the blood heir of the legendary Cristenello Mafia. As the years passed, I became well versed in what it took to stand at the head of the family.

“This is gonna be fun.” Tommas smacked his gum, masticating it with a feral glint in his eyes.

Unlike the numbness that always stole through me at the start of a mission, Tommy’s eagerness was palpable. It practically filled the goddamn car, and I had to throw an arm out to keep him from jumping from the vehicle before it had fully stopped. Sure, it would be the least reckless thing he’d do all evening, but he didn’t need to get himself killed because he rushed in without taking stock of his surroundings.

Marco pulled the car off to the side of the road, parking in the shadows just down the street—our target easily in sight.

“There.” Giovanni jutted his chin toward the sides of the house.

In the shadows were four low-level Valentino thugs guarding their stake. Anger pulsed through me at the sight.

Tonight, we’d slaughter every last one of them.

I glanced at my brothers, a silent agreement passing between us. We shifted in our seats, hands grazing holsters as Marco killed the engine. Four precise nods and we split, slipping from the car and stalking through the night like panthers cornering helpless prey.

My boots were silent on the gravel as I pressed against the crumbling wall. A guard smoked a cigarette nearby, the cherryburning in the blackness. I inhaled the acrid smoke and slipped behind him, my arm a steel vice clamping over his throat until the struggle left his body. I dropped him to the ground like the trash he was and brushed off my dark, crisp button-down.

A series of muffled thumps echoed—my brothers clearing the path ahead. Heart thundering, I stalked past them and up the front steps, then rammed my shoulder into the thick wooden door. It gave way with a splintering groan.

Gunfire exploded in deafening blasts, our invasion no longer a secret. The rancid stench of sweat and fear walloped me as we slammed into the fray. The sound of my brothers’ footfalls thudding against the worn hardwood told me they were right behind me, backing me up every step of the way. Bullets flew, exploding into drywall and blasting the old, rotting molding. Wood sprayed around us, the house scarred beyond repair.

Seconds later, the unmistakably familiar coppery scent of blood flooded my senses. I aimed again and again, mowing down the assholes who refused to cower, tuck tail, and run like the fucking rats they were. If they didn’t have the good sense to flee, they deserved the ending they received. I squeezed the trigger in a relentless series of retorts, watching them jolt and fall one by one.

We cleared the entry, but a quick scan of the bodies and I knew we were far from done.

“They’re here somewhere,” I growled. “Find them and end them. I’m going for the girl.”

Marco, Giovanni, and Tommas fanned out, looking for Antonio, Rocco, and Vincent Valentino—the heads of the Valentino Mafia—while I headed for the stairs that led to the basement. Gun trained ahead, I descended slowly, listening raptly for any sounds of life.

I’d barely made it to the bottom step when it hit me… a hint of the most amazing scent slicing through the chaos. Earthyand sweet, though tinged with terror, bitter from fear. It coiled around me, constricting, refusing to let me out of its chokehold.

My gaze snapped to the door along the back wall, and I moved instinctively, as if being called by a siren.

The scent grew richer as I neared the room, awakening a primal hunger deep within me. Steps quickening, I reached for the doorknob, the metal cold against my palm. It refused to budge, fucking locked.

Narrowing my eyes on it, I stepped back and kicked it in with brutal force, sending wood splintering and making the hinges screech in protest as the thing gave way, crashing to the ground with a deafening smash.

I threw myself against the wall beside the door just before bullets whizzed by, narrowly escaping death. My lips hitched in what I could only assume was a feral expression. Timing was everything in these situations, and I waited for my moment, then spun into the room, quickly surveying my surroundings and sending a round flying toward my mark.

Antonio growled when it pierced his arm. His gun listed sideways, his next shot flying wide; so far from me it was laughable. I stalked forward without mercy, keeping my sights trained on the asshole.

Using both hands, he adjusted his hold on his weapon, leveling it back on me. Although I had the upper hand, a sadistic grin twisted his features, almost as if he still didn’t expect to die today.

“Trying to take what’s mine, Cristenello?” he sneered, but I caught the slight shake of his hands and the sweat that beaded on his forehead.

I spared the quickest glance to the girl in question.

There, huddled in the corner of the dingy room, was the source of that intoxicating aroma. The Omega, Kitania, her delicate frame trembling violently, eyes wide with terror as theymet mine. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, and her dark hair was a tangled veil that partially obscured her face. Despite how frightened she appeared and the squalor surrounding her, she was utterly breathtaking.

Every Alpha instinct I possessed blazed to life. The pureness of her scent beneath the bitterness twined around me and squeezed the air from my fucking lungs. A rumbling growl tore up my throat as I recognizedexactlywho she was to me.

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