Page 37 of Break Me Knot

He stretches as he stands. The movement displays his muscled frame in a way that makes my mouth go dry. “I'll grab some food.”

I take in his naked form as he steps from the nest - all rippling muscle and golden skin. He's a Greek statue come to life, powerful yet graceful and completely unselfconscious as he bends to retrieve a pair of boxers from the floor, treating me to another spectacular view before covering himself. I wish there were no clothes in reach. I wish he never had to wear clothes again.

“Be back soon, Omega.” He throws me a wink before leaving the closet, and I remind myself that this is temporary. That beauty can hide darkness. That kindness always comes with a price.

“Would you like to stay here and wait for breakfast?” Adrian asks, still holding me with that gentle touch that makes no sense. He should be at work. A man like him must have meetings, responsibilities. The thought of him taking days off to tend to a random omega's heat is absurd.

Then Dr. Maverick's words come rushing back.They started Pinnacle. These alphas aren't just executives or employees. TheyownPinnacle Therapeutics. The only company legally allowed to manufacture suppressants and scent blockers.

Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity. Their scents in the luxury offices I cleaned. The luxury penthouse above their company. The obvious wealth. The designer clothes in this closet. The way they can take days off to tend to an omega in heat without consequence. They're getting rich off omega suffering, controlling the very medications we need to survive.

Every omega who's ever had to choose between food and suppressants, every omega who's had to debase themselves to afford medication, every omega who's been forced to register with an alpha just to access basic healthcare… it all leads back here.

To them.

Adrian's frown is immediate, his body tensing behind me. “What is it? What just changed? What are you thinking?”

I try to school my features, to hide my revelation, but it's too late. He's already scenting my fear, my anger, my sense of betrayal. I try to pull away from his touch, but I'm still too weak from the heat and all I manage is to flop away a fraction.

“Now my heat is over, I'm leaving.” The words come out strong, even though my body trembles with exhaustion.

Adrian's arm tightens around my waist for a brief moment—so brief I almost think I imagined it—before he slowly withdraws. The loss of his warmth makes me shiver, though I tell myself it's just a physical reaction, nothing more.

“If that's what you want,” he says quietly. “It's your choice, Mira.”

Those words stop me cold.

“Mychoice?” I can't keep the bitterness from my voice. “Like how omegas have a 'choice' about suppressants? About registration? About which alpha gets to control their access to basic medication?”

He stills behind me. “You know about us.”

“That you don’t just work at Pinnacle? That you own it?” I force myself to turn and face him, though my muscles protest the movement. “That you three control the only company legally allowed to manufacture suppressants? That you profit from omega desperation? Yes, Dr. Maverick filled me in.”

His hazel eyes widen, something like pain crossing his features. “Is that what you think we—”

“Tell me I'm wrong,” I challenge, though my voice shakes. “Tell me you don't make millions while omegas like me have to choose between eating and staying safe.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words and accusations. I wait for him to deny it, to justify it, to show his true alpha colors.

Instead, he looks... heartbroken.

And that's the most confusing response of all.

“Things aren't what they seem,” Adrian says, his eyes holding mine. I force myself to maintain eye contact, to show strength even when my body trembles as I sit up and lean against the opposite wall. I hold my ratty blanket over me, ignoring the deeper scents of slick and cum infusing every strand of the fabric. “We don't control the legislation about suppressants and scent blockers. If we did, we’d make much more product and distribute it everywhere.”

I let out a bitter laugh, though it hurts my raw throat. “Right. The only legal manufacturers just happen to have no say in—”

“Senator Hardwick controls the legislation.” His scent carries notes of frustration and... pain? “She blocks every attempt we make to increase production, to lower prices, to make distribution more accessible.”

And I can definitely believe that from first-hand experience. She’s all about omega submission. I blink, thrown by the genuine regret in his voice. He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, leaving it standing even more on end.

“We've been fighting for years to change things,” he continues. “To make suppressants available to omegas without their alpha’s approval, to increase omega autonomy in healthcare decisions. But Hardwick...” His jaw clenches. “Has her own agenda.”

I want to dismiss his words as lies, as manipulation, but his scent carries no deception, only endless frustration and what might be genuine concern.

“Why should I believe you?” My voice comes out smaller than intended, betraying my uncertainty.

“You cleaned our offices. Did you see any omega restraints? Any registration equipment? Any of the tools Hardwick claims are necessary for 'omega management'?” he asks.

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