Page 40 of Break Me Knot

“What about Cole?” The question slips out, my voice small in the steamy air. The water laps gently around us as I force myself to continue. “If he hates omegas so much, why help us? Why...” I swallow hard, hating the vulnerability in my voice. “Why dedicate your life to this if you can't stand to be near…us?”

I almost said, ‘near me’, but that would make this line of questioning more personal than I want.

The silence that follows is heavy. Adrian's hands still momentarily on my shoulders as his chest rises with a deep breath against my back.

“Cole doesn't hate omegas, Mira.” Zane shifts on the edge of the tub, his usual grace absent in the weight of this conversation. “It's... it's the opposite, actually.”

“You have the wrong idea about him.” Adrian’s touch is more deliberate now, like he's choosing his movements as carefully as his words. “Cole was hurt, badly, before we formed our pack. Before Pinnacle. That pain...” He pauses, and swallows hard. “In some ways, it brought us together. Gave us purpose.”

They exchange a look loaded with years of shared history, of understanding, of protecting their pack brother's pain.

“He loves omegas enough to dedicate his life to helping them. Even though being near them causes him pain. Even though every interaction reminds him of what he lost,” Zane says.

“He doesn't hate you, Mira.” Adrian's voice is gentle against my hair, his breath stirring the damp strands. “He hates himself.”

The water continues its gentle lap against the tub's sides, but somehow the sound is different now. Less like luxury and more like tears.

“What happened to him?” I whisper, not sure I want to hear the answer.

Their scents twist with shared grief, and I almost take back the question. Almost.

Something in me needs to understand the alpha who runs from what he wants, who dedicates his life to helping those he can't bear to be near.

Maybe because I see too much of myself in that contradiction.

Chapter Eighteen

Mira

“We'll answer you. We have nothing to hide, but I would like it to come from Cole and not us. It's his story to tell, as an apology for what he’s done to you,” Adrian says.

“I don't want an apology from him.” The words come out more bitter than intended, the hurt of his rejection warring with understanding. I wrap my arms around my knees and tuck them close to my chest, avoiding both alphas' gazes. “Some things are so deep they should never be discussed.” Like my own scars. Like the memories that still wake me screaming. Like the knowledge I hold about very powerfulpeople.

Adrian's fingertip ghosts over a thin, puckered line across my shoulder. I tense, expecting him to demand I tell him how I got this mark, but his touch retreats immediately. “Not yet at least,” he whispers.

A yawn catches me by surprise, my body's exhaustion finally overwhelming everything else. The warm water and the alphas’ careful attention have drained the last of my reserves.

“Come on. Let's get you out of this tub and back to bed.” I stiffen automatically at the word 'bed', but Adrian continues smoothly, “For sleep, Little One. Just for sleep.” His scent carries nothing but honesty and penetrating fatigue.

“I can...”

Adrian scoops me up before I can finish the protest, standing in one fluid motion that displays his strength. He presses a kiss to my temple—so gentle it barely registers—before passing me to Zane. “I know you can. We’re not debating that. You’re strong and independent and that’s something to be admired. But you’ve just gone through a heat and need help. Please let us be that help.”

Zane's hands are gentle with the towel, efficient yet cautious as he dries me. There are no lingering touches or exploitations of my exposed vulnerability—just genuine care and attention. Adrian swiftly attends to himself, then turns his focus back to me.

“My nest,” I protest as he carries me toward the bed. Anxiety flutters in my chest at the thought of leaving my safe space and familiar scents.

“It needs to be washed,” he says. “The bed is clean. Nothing will happen—we all need rest.” His arms cradle me like I'm something precious and worth protecting.

I study his face, noting again the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the exhaustion evident in every line. His face is softened by fatigue, making him look as wrecked as I am.

The shower starts in the bathroom—Zane, I assume—as Adrian settles us both in the bed. The mattress is impossibly soft, the sheets silky against my skin. Nothing like my thin mattress on the floor. I take a careful breath, analyzing thescent. It's neutral, new. Unused. No other omegas have slept here. I hate the way I relax as that truth takes root.

“I hope the omega you saved this bed for doesn't mind my scent in it,” I say.

Adrian nuzzles against my hair, his chest warm against my back as he draws me close. There's an intimacy to being held like this, skin to skin, that should frighten me. His muscled form curves around mine perfectly, protective rather than possessive. One arm drapes over my waist, heavy enough to ground me but loose enough that I could easily escape. He pulls me closer but makes no other moves, his eyes already closing.

“Our omega,” he corrects softly, “needs to get used to some luxury. Sleep, Little One.”

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