Page 38 of Break Me Knot

I hadn't. In fact, the offices looked normal. No special security beyond standard measures, no omega-specific restrictions. Apart from their scents, which had driven me into this heat. But trust has been beaten out of me too thoroughly to accept this easily. “Pretty words,” I manage, though my conviction wavers. “Convenient explanations.”

“Look into my eyes,” he says softly. “Scent me. Tell me I'm lying.”

I do, against my better judgment. His scent is clear, honest, tinged with desperation for me to understand.

Adrian's expression shifts. Pain darkens his eyes and a muscle jumps in his cheek as he swallows hard. “If you want to leave, we'll help you. But you can't go back to that apartment. It's not safe. We’ll set you up with money, a new place, whatever you need to be secure.”

My hands clench in the blankets as I wait for the ‘but’ and yet it doesn’t come. He sits still. Doesn't reach for me. Doesn't try to touch me. Doesn't attempt to use his alpha bark or authority to influence my decision. The restraint is visible in every line of his body, in the careful way he maintains distance. The way he keeps his scent neutral despite his obvious distress.

“We won't stop you. It's your choice. Your life. But please...” His voice catches, breaks, reforms. “At least let us help you recover from your heat properly. Let us make sure you're healthy before you go. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you’d go out there and I did nothing to help you stay hidden.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mira

Zane appears in the doorway, a laden tray balanced in his hands. He freezes, his blue eyes darting between Adrian and me, reading the tension in the air. His nostrils flare slightly as he scents our emotional states.

“What's wrong?” he asks carefully, still not entering the nest.

“Mira needs to eat and rest. In that order,” Adrian says.

I want to protest that I don’t want to rest, but my body betrays me. Just the thought of moving makes my muscles tremble. When was the lasttime I truly rested? Not the exhausted collapse between shifts, not the heat-induced unconsciousness, but real, healing rest?

I can't remember.

Zane enters the nest with careful movements, setting the tray down between us. The sight is mouthwatering… fresh fruit, pastries, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon. A carafe of what smells like expensive coffee sits next to delicate cups and a teapot. He's even included honey for the tea and cream for the coffee. Giving me choices of what I want to eat or drink.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got everything,” he says.

“I…thank you?”

His grin lights up his face and I can’t help but stare at him. “You never have to question your desires from me. I want you to have whatever makes you happy. “

“Oh…” I wait for the lie, taking a small sniff at his scent, but it remains clear. I have to admit, the food looks good, and my stomach feels as though it’s going to turn inside out with hunger. I reach for a plate, my hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. I’m weaker than I want to admit.

“Let me,” Zane says, taking the plate back. His smile holds no judgment, only warmth. He carefully chooses food—not too much, nothing too rich that might overwhelm my system.

My eyes can't help but trace the powerful lines of Adrian's body. His shoulders alone speak of immense power, the kind that could easily overpower an omega, yet those same hands that could break me have only ever touched me with exquisite gentleness. The contradiction is... confusing. Dangerous in how it makes me want to trust.

“She knows about Pinnacle,” Adrian tells Zane quietly, his voice carrying a weight of resignation. “Not only that we work there. She knows we own it.”

Zane's hands still in their careful arrangement of my breakfast, the piece of fruit he was placing on my plate forgotten.

“And she has the wrong idea about Pinnacle. About what we're trying to do.” Adrian runs a hand through his disheveled hair, a gesture of agitation that makes him look less a powerful alpha and more like someone fighting a losing battle.

Zane’s nostrils flare. “Have you told her about Hardwick denying us at every turn?”

Adrian’s jaw clenches. “That too. I’ve told our…I’ve told Mira that Hardwick isn’t interested in any legislation that gives omegas autonomy. We push for Pinnacle, yes, but we’re also pushing something more critical than our business.”

I let out a bitter laugh that tastes like old fear. Of course Hardwick doesn’t want to hand over omega rights to omegas. An alpha giving up control? Allowing omegas any measure of freedom? The same old story plays out in new ways. Power maintaining power. Control breeding more control. Money made from suffering.

I know for a fact that the senator is cut from the same cloth as Dr. Mercer. Memories rise like bile in my throat. The same cold eyes, the same belief in omega “correction,” the same dedication to maintaining the hierarchy that keeps us under alpha control.

I remember Hardwick's heels clicking down Haven's corridors alongside Dr. Mercer’s, the sound a warning of incoming inspection. Hardwick would watch as Dr. Mercer demonstrated their “training” techniques.

Hugo and Lars were their favorite guards, their most dedicated believers in omega submission. They had so many ways to teach us our place, but the cold room was their specialty. “Temperature regulation training,” they called it, laughing when they’d strip me bare and shove me in the large industrial freezer in the basement.

Some part of me is still there. Hearing how they laughed when my muscles started spasming with the cold. “This is all omegas are good for.” Hugo's voice echoes in my head. “Learning their place.” Lars's boots would stomp on the metal floor as he circled my shivering form, forcing me into a ‘presentation position’, widening my knees on the concrete floor with the end of his cane while I died a little more on the inside.

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