Page 9 of Knot Happening

The weight of my mother's sacrifice was a chain around my neck, each link forged from the fire of my powerlessness.I had watched her surrender to the demands of the Bratva, her spirit dimming with each day that passed.It was a sight that fanned the flames of my alpha side, urging me to act, to protect.Yet, I remained silent, my youth a shackle that held me back from the brink.

But silence was a luxury I could no longer afford.The time for childish dreams had passed, and the harsh reality of our world demanded a response.I found the bratki, the one who had dared to threaten my mother, lurking in the back alley of a seedy bar, and his cronies huddled around him like parasites seeking warmth.

"I want to pay my mother's debt," I declared, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart.

The bratki regarded me through narrowed eyes, a cruel smile playing on his lips."What are you, malen'kiy izgovorshik?"he scoffed, his laughter a grating sound that set my teeth on edge.

His friends joined in, their raucous laughter echoing off the cold, stone walls.The bratki’s gaze lingered on me, his amusement turning to curiosity."So what, mal'chishka, can you offer?"he asked, his tone mocking.

One of his friends, a brute with a scar running down his cheek, clapped him on the shoulder."Maybe he wants to show he can be all grown up," he said with a sneer.

The bratki's eyes lit up with sadistic delight."Khorosho, mal'chik," he said, leaning forward, his grin widening."If you want to be a grown-up, let's give you a grown-up task."

He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, scribbled with an address, and handed it to me."Kill the woman who ran away from us," he instructed, his voice hardening."If you manage to accomplish this, maybe we might forgive your debt."

I took the paper, my fingers brushing against the coarse skin of his hand.The contact sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let my revulsion show."I will get it done," I swore, meeting his gaze with a determined stare.

The bratki smirked, his confidence in my failure evident in his dismissive nod."We'll see, mal'chishka," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension.

With the weight of the task settled upon my shoulders, I turned to leave, the paper burning a hole in my pocket.The die had been cast, and there was no turning back.My path was set, a road paved with the blood of a woman I had never met and the fire of my resolve, fueled by my love for my mother.

I had made my choice, and with it, I had taken the first step into a world of darkness that promised to test the very limits of my spirit.

* * *

I arrived at the address, the weight of the crumpled paper heavy in my pocket.The building stood before me, a decrepit monument to the city's forgotten souls.I approached cautiously, my senses on high alert.The streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of the city's heartbeat.

Circling the perimeter, I found a window partially ajar on the second floor.It was a silent invitation, one that I couldn't ignore.With a deep breath, I pried it open further, the rusty hinges groaning in protest.I slipped inside, my footsteps muffled by the worn carpet.

The apartment was sparse, the walls bare, and the furniture sparse and utilitarian.It was a stark contrast to the extravagance I had seen in the homes of the Bratva elders.But it was the scent that caught me off guard.It was sweet and rich, an omega's fragrance reminiscent of berries and cream.It was the scent of the pastries we could never afford, the ones that teased my senses from the bakery windows as we walked by.

Frantically, I rummaged through the mail on the coffee table, my fingers trembling.The name on the letters matched the one I had been given.Sofiya Popov.An omega.The realization hit me like a physical blow.I had been sent to kill an omega.

I could hear the sound of running water from down the hall.She was in the tub, oblivious to the danger lurking in her own home.I found myself drawn to the sofa, the worn fabric cold against my skin.I sat, the gravity of my task settling upon me like a shroud.

Could I truly kill an omega?The question echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain.Could I kill anyone?The thought of taking a life, especially that of an omega, left a bitter taste in my mouth.But the image of my mother, her eyes once filled with laughter now hollow with despair, seared itself into my consciousness.

I thought of the Bratva, their sneers, and threats if I failed to complete my task.The thought of their disappointment was terrifying, but it was nothing compared to the need to protect my mother.Her light was fading, dimmed by the cruel reality of her life as a prostitute.I had to be strong, stronger than I had ever been.

The decision crystallized within me, a chilling resolution.Yes, I could kill an omega if it meant saving my mother's soul.I rose from the sofa, my legs carrying me to the kitchen with a sense of grim purpose.My hand closed around the handle of a knife, the cold steel making this even more real.

I moved silently toward the bathroom, the omega's serene oblivion shattering with each step I took.As she relaxed in the tub, her head tilted back in blissful ignorance, I approached from behind.With a swift motion, I slit her throat.

Her eyes snapped open, wide with fear and pain, as she stared at me in disbelief.It was only then that I noticed the gentle swell of her abdomen.She was pregnant.The realization struck me like a physical blow, the weight of my actions hitting me with the force of a sledgehammer.

I stood there, frozen, as the life drained from her eyes.The room spun around me, the reality of what I had done threatening to pull me under.I had taken a life, not just an omega's, but a pregnant omega.The gravity of my sin settled upon my shoulders, a heavy burden that I knew I would carry for the rest of my days.

ten

PIETRO

The momentI was thrown into the cell, a bone-chilling coldness seeped into my skin, and the metallic taste of fear lingered in my mouth.I was just a boy, barely fourteen, but my crime had painted a target on my back that not even the most hardened zeks could ignore.I had killed an omega and, worse, her unborn child.The guilt of it clung to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the monster I had become.

The cell was cramped, the air thick with the musk of unwashed bodies and desperation.My bunkmate was a man named Ivan Petrovich, a lifer with a reputation that made even the toughest bratok think twice before crossing him.He was a bear of a man, with a shaved head and eyes that seemed to see right through you.His scent, pine and black pepper, was refreshing to the filth that surrounded us.

"You're the kid who killed the omega," Ivan said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo off the concrete walls.I nodded, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.I expected anger, disgust, but instead, I saw a flicker of understanding in his dark eyes.

"Look at me, moy malen'kiy volk," Ivan commanded, and I found myself unable to disobey."You did what you had to do to survive.Here, in this shithole, that's all that matters.You understand me?"

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