Page 49 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

You’d think I’d be used to this shit by now, but there was a reason I preferred not to be at the forefront of things. This life wasn’t one I’d chosen for myself. Like my brothers, I had been born into it, and while I would always have their backs, I tended to hang in the background as much as I could when it came to handling the ‘business’ side of things. I followed orders, did what was necessary, and stayed out of the rest.

Fuckin’ hell.The tension in the car was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

Enzo’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck standing out, and I knew he’d read into my silence. “We split up,” he admitted with a heavy dose of guilt. “It was my call. Vincent and Roccowere hot on our tails. I led Vincent away, and Rocco went after Nick. I thought we could lose ‘em.”

The words stuck in my throat, bitter and painful. “Nick didn’t make it,” I whispered, feeling the dark car fill with sorrow. “They mutilated him, Enzo. It was a fuckin’ massacre.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Enzo’s breath caught, his expression darkening with grief and anger. “Shit.” The word was strangled, and he dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought... Ihopedwe could get away clean.”

The weight of shared loss settled over us, fucking suffocating. My mind raced, replaying the gruesome aftermath I’d seen pictures of. Nick’s broken body, the blood, that goddamn V… I scrubbed a hand over my forehead like I could physically dispel the image.

It wasn’t as though I hadn’t witnessed my fair share of blood and gore, but there was something different about a clean headshot or a normal corpse than the sick, twisted shit they’d done to Nick.

I had to get the thoughts out of my mind. Desperate for a shift in conversation, I asked, “How’s your head? You need to see Doc?”

“Nah, just sore. Nothing a drink won’t fix.”

I nodded, expression hard. “We have to figure out what Vincent and Rocco are planning next. And we have to keep Kitania safe. She’s a target now more than ever.”

The mere thought of my Omega in danger made my blood boil. The desire to protect her clawed at my insides, demanding action. Vengeance. The Valentinos wouldn’t get their hands on her again. I’d die before I let that happen.

Enzo’s eyes narrowed with his resolve. “I owe Rocco for this.” His fingers curled into fists, adding to how pissed he appeared. “He won’t get away with what he did to Nick.”

His anger mirrored my own, the rage and grief swirling together, mixing into a potent cocktail. “We’ll get him and Vincent both, Enzo,” I promised unwaveringly. “But we’ve got to protect the home front first.”

As we neared the club, my thoughts turned to Giovanni and Kitania back at the penthouse. I knew Gio was capable, but the thought of being seperated from my Omega for so long made my stomach churn with unease. I needed her safe, ideally protected by all four of us. We couldn’t afford any more losses. Just the possibility of losing her nearly stopped my fucking heart.

“Almost there.” The familiar neon sign of the club came into view like a beacon. “Let’s get inside, regroup with the others, and figure out our next move.”

With grim determination, I stepped on the gas, making the engine roar as the car smoothly lurched forward. The sooner I reunited with my brothers and devised a plan for revenge, the sooner I could return to my mate.

And God help anyone who tried to stand in my way.

nineteen

KITANIA

The knife trembledin my hand as I chopped the onions, and I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself so I wouldn’t slip and cut one of my fingers. Every tiny creak of the penthouse or unidentified noise, like the distant thump from Beretta playing with a toy down the hall, had my heartbeat stuttering.

Rationally, I knew they were just normal sounds, but my nerves were stretched as taut as piano wire, ready to snap.

I felt Giovanni’s eyes on me as I cooked, tracking my every movement. Though his gaze was intense, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, I found his attentiveness sweet and reassuring, if anything.

“You don’t have to worry. The security measures here are ironclad,” he promised from where he sat at the kitchen island, easily picking up on the stressed notes of my scent that lifted into the air. “No one’s getting in here. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

All the guys had said the same before they left, explaining that they were only leaving Gio behind as extra precaution so they wouldn’t worry so much and could focus on what they had to do.

I wanted to believe them, but the dread swirling in my gut made it difficult. And it wasn’t just me I was worried about, either. My mind raced with concern for Dimitri and the others, out there facing God knows what danger. Because of me.

To distract myself, I focused on cooking, the familiar motions grounding me. I was making a hearty shepherd’s pie topped with creamy mashed potatoes, something to warm everyone up when they returned. I made it exactly the way my mother always had. She’d loved to cook, and I’d carted her recipe book with me from foster home to foster home after she was gone. It was one of the few things I had left of her—or it had been until I’d been kidnapped.

Now, I had to work from memory.

My thoughts strayed to my room at the OMA, wondering if they’d kept any of my stuff when I’d disappeared. Thankfully, I knew most of the recipes by heart after years of recreating them, but that didn’t replace the sentimentality of seeing my mom’s handwriting scrawled across the old paper of each recipe card.

Grief panged in my chest, the familiar pain more potent today after my conversation with Dimitri earlier.

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