Page 11 of Knot Happening

The van slowed to a stop, and the back doors swung open, revealing a bustling cityscape.The cacophony of car horns, shouting voices, and the distant wail of sirens hit me like a physical force.I stepped out, my legs unsteady beneath me, and took my first breath of American air.It was cold, tinged with the promise of snow, and it filled my lungs with a sense of possibility.

Yuri led me through a maze of back alleys and side streets, his strides confident and purposeful."Keep your head down and your mouth shut," he instructed, his voice a low growl."You're not in Russia anymore.The rules are different here."

We eventually arrived at a nondescript building tucked away in a grimy part of the city.Yuri keyed in a code, and the door swung open to reveal a dimly lit interior.A man sat behind a desk, his eyes flicking up to assess me with a cool, appraising gaze.

"This is Pietro," Yuri announced in Russian, his hand clapping down hard on my shoulder."Ivan's boy."

The man behind the desk nodded, his lips curling into a semblance of a smile."Welcome to America, Ivan's boy.I'm Vasili, Yuri's boss."

I extended my hand, my grip firm."Thank you for having me, Vasili."

Vasili's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Yuri."You vouch for him?"

"With my life," Yuri replied without hesitation.

Vasili nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer."Good.We'll get you your papers, Pietro.But remember, in this country, you're only as good as your usefulness.You understand?"

I met his gaze, my resolve hardening."I understand.And I won't disappoint you."

The corners of Vasili's mouth twitched upward again."We'll see.Yuri, show him around.Get him settled."

As we left Vasili's office, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of trepidation and excitement.This was it—my new life.And I would do whatever it took to make Ivan proud, to prove that the boy he'd mentored in the labor camp was worthy of the freedom he'd been given.

Yuri gave me a curt nod as we walked down the hallway."Welcome to the Bratva, Pietro.But remember, this is a snake pit.Trust no one.Watch your back."

I swallowed hard, nodding in understanding."I won't let my guard down, Yuri.I promise you that."

And with that, I stepped into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.America was my new battleground, and I was prepared to fight for my place in it.

* * *

The fabric of my shirt caught on the rough skin of my knuckles as I yanked it over my head, the chill of the room raising goosebumps along my arms.I was halfway through changing into something more comfortable when a flicker of movement outside my window caught my eye.I froze, my instincts screaming danger before my mind could catch up.

I reached for the gun I kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard, the weight of the metal familiar and reassuring in my hand.With cautious steps, I approached the window, ready to confront whoever dared to violate my privacy.But as I pulled back the curtain, the last thing I expected was to be met with the sight of a man so striking he could've been carved from marble.

His features were sharp, his eyes a deep brown that was easy to fall into.But it wasn't his looks that sent a jolt of unease through me—it was the absence of his scent.The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: he was wearing de-scent lotion.The audacity of this stranger, lurking in the shadows, masking his natural aroma—it was a blatant insult.

With a growl, I gestured for him to come inside, my grip on the gun unwavering.I needed answers, and I wouldn't get them with him skulking around.

As he stepped into the dim light of my living room, I took a moment to size him up.He was taller than me, his body moving with a lethal grace that told me he was no amateur.The thought of what—or who—he might be tangled with sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

"Why are you watching me?"I demanded, my voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving mine.Then, with a calmness that only served to infuriate me further, he spoke."We're scent compatible."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I wasn't prepared to unpack.Scent compatible?With a stranger who was stalking me?It was almost laughable.

"Wash it off," I snarled, the command leaving no room for argument.

He complied, moving to my sink with a fluidity that belied his size.He turned on the faucet, letting the water cascade over the scent gland on his neck.The de-scent lotion dissolved under the stream, revealing the true essence of his scent.

Once he was done, he turned to face me, his posture a subtle blend of defiance and submission.He tilted his head to the side, exposing the newly bared skin of his neck—an offering, an invitation.

I stepped forward, my own alpha instincts roaring to life as I inhaled deeply.The scent that hit me was intoxicating, a rich blend of oak and hazelnut that sent a jolt of desire coursing through my veins.There was no denying it; we were compatible.But that didn't explain why he was here, watching me.

He raised his hand, the gesture a silent request for a truce."My name is Harlen," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in my chest.

I hesitated for a moment before accepting his handshake, the contact sending a shockwave of recognition through me."Pietro," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

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