Page 18 of Break Me Knot

I jerk away from his touch. The last gentle hands that touched me belonged to my parents. The hugs I yearned for on my twenty-first birthday. They never made it to see me and after Mercer told me of their deaths, I never made it back to my bed in my dorm. I slid right into hell.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” Not yet at least. I’m both disappointed and relieved when his hand drops.

“I promise you. You're safe with us,” he murmurs, his voice soft and rich like honey.

The sincerity in his tone makes my omega side keen with longing. This is what we're supposed to have, gentle touches, soft words, protection freely offered and given. It's a dangerous temptation, seducing me into the ultimate trap, and I’m not that stupid or naive.

Adrian opens the back door. The interior is all black leather and subtle wealth, and I've never felt more out of place in my life. Cole slides into the driver's seat without a backward glance at me, but Adrian and Zane hover, waiting for me to make the choice they're pretending I have. With nowhere else to go, I climb into the backseat.

They follow, boxing me in with their massive bodies.

“Afraid I'll run? Or just making sure your omega prize stays put?” I ignore the bead of sweat that trickles down my spine despite the interior’s temperature control.

“We're trying to help you.” Zane’s massive frame shifts toward me. His hand hovers near mine on the seat, not touching but offering comfort I can't afford to accept.

Another wave of heat rolls through me, making me bite back a whimper. Slick soaks into the expensive leather beneath me, and shame burns hot in my cheeks.

“Leave her be.” Cole's voice cuts through the tension from the front seat, sharp and unexpected. “She doesn't want your comfort. Stop hovering like she's made of glass.”

The unexpected support makes me tense even more, but he's right. Their attempts at soothing me only make everything worse. My nerves are stretched so tight I feel like I’m going to snap.

The city slides past the tinted windows as the sun rises. I try to focus on anything except the alphas boxing me in. A few people hurry along the sidewalks, wrapped in winter coats, living their normal lives. A woman laughs at somethingon her phone. A pair of joggers pound the footpath getting in their early morning run. None of them understand what it's like to be trapped in their own biology, to be hunted, to be property. None of them will ever understand what it means to be omega in a world built to cage us.

The buildings grow taller, cleaner and more imposing as we enter the wealthy district. Chrome and glass monuments to alpha power rise around us, and my anxiety rises with them. When I recognize Pinnacle Therapeutics looming ahead, panic claws up my throat.

“Stop the car!” I try to reach for the door handle, but Adrian catches my wrist. His touch sends electricity through my overheated skin, making me gasp. “You said you'd help me, not take me back to—”

“It's okay,” he says quickly, releasing my wrist but maintaining that protective stance. “We live here. The top floor penthouse.”

“Why do you live above your work?” I stare at him, looking for the lie he’s trying to hide.

“The security is better here than anywhere else,” Zane explains as Cole pulls into a private garage beneath the building. “No one can reach you here without our knowledge.”

That's exactly what I'm afraid of.

Adrian opens the door and turns, waiting for me. I clutch my ratty pack holding my worldly belongings and slide across the seat, putting my feet down on cold concrete. It feels like I fled this building years ago, and now I’m back. I recognize the floor. The basement where the service elevator spat me out on my mad run out of the building, but the elevator they guide me to is private.

Zane pulls out a card and slides it over a panel set in the door, which slides open to reveal the small luxurious space. We file in, the alphas still keeping me locked between them. I don’t know where they expect me to run, but when the doors start to close, I have to fight the panic that’s dogged me since I accepted their ‘offer’ of help.

The elevator ride is torture. Four people in a small space, my heat-scent mixing with their pheromones until I can barely breathe. They stand in a loose circlearound me, not touching but close enough that I’m surrounded, contained. My reflection in the mirrored walls shows how small I look between them, how obviously out of place. I shove my nose into the top of my pack to try to block out their scents.

The penthouse doors slide open onto a space that makes me want to run and hide. Everything screams wealth and power. Sleek modern furniture in shades of gray and blue, probably imported from countries I can't pronounce. The ceilings soar overhead, making me even smaller, more insignificant.

“This way, omega.” Adrian gestures toward a hallway, but my feet won't move. My worn uniform is disgusting and dirty, my hair a tangled mess, my whole being a stain on this immaculate environment.

My stomach growls loudly enough for all of them to hear, and I wrap my arms around myself, embarrassed. Adrian moves to stand in front of me and I instinctively back up until I hit the wall. He's massive—all broad shoulders and alpha presence—and my heart skips a beat as I prepare for the inevitable. In his bed, demanding me to present for the first taste of his fists and his knot.

But he just asks, “When did you last eat?”

I blink, thrown off balance. Whenwasthe last time? The days have blurred. “Three days?” I manage. “Maybe? I usually get leftovers from the diner, but Andy was working, and he never...”

Cole makes a harsh sound and stalks off. I bristle at his obvious disgust. “It's not my fault,” I snap at his retreating back. “Two minimum wage jobs barely covers rent, let alone food. It’s not as though I have a choice where I work.” Above-board employers need a designation declaration with papers. Something I don’t have because of my omega status.

“Come on,” Adrian says, gesturing for me to follow him. His gentleness is almost worse than aggression. At least I know how to handle threats.

The kitchen is bigger than my entire apartment, all gleaming stainless steel and marble countertops. To my surprise, Cole is already there, pulling ingredients from a massive refrigerator and slamming them onto the counter. I thought he’dstalked off to his room. Or somewhere I’m not. He doesn’t want to do this for me, so why is he? I didn't ask for him to personally cook me anything.

“You don’t have to go to any trouble. A sandwich is fine, and I can make that if you can spare the ingredients.” I ignore the dirty look Cole throws me. Okay then, looks like he doesn't want me touching anything in his kitchen.

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