Page 39 of Break Me Knot

If they want to help omegas, I can tell them exactly who they’re up against and what those powerful people stand to lose if they ever do.

I try to shake off the memories, but they cling like frost to my skin. My parents had been good people—Mom teaching kindergarten, her hands always smellingof chalk and children's artwork, Dad managing the lighting store, coming home with stories about helping customers find the perfect lamp. I wish I’d presented as an omega before Haven was mandatory, but changes to legislation came through when my omega status presented itself. Because Mom and Dad couldn't afford Haven's fees, they placed me in the “common section.” It’s laughable that the two sections were made in answer to affordability when no one ever had a choice. There were a lot of omegas in that section. Many from beta parents like myself. Many from families where money was tight enough without the extra burden of birthing an omega. Then their car accident happened, and I went to the dungeon when there was no one to pay my ‘fees’…

“Mira?” Adrian's voice pulls me back to the present. “You're shaking.”

Am I? I look down at my hands to find them trembling violently. The food on the plate Zane prepared blurs before my eyes.

“You're cold,” Zane murmurs, his fingers brushing my arm. I follow his gaze to see goosebumps have risen on my skin, but the sensation of his touch is distant, disconnected. Like I'm watching someone else's body respond to memory-induced cold.

“Fuck. You’re crashing.” Adrian curses softly, his hazel eyes dark with worry. “We need to get you warm.”

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, slightly hysterical. “Warm? I was burning up a few hours ago. I didn’t have a choice about that either.” The sound that escapes me doesn't even sound human. “Funny how that works.”

Adrian exchanges a look with Zane that I can't quite interpret, but their scents spike with concern.

“Zane, run a bath,” Adrian orders quietly. Before I process what's happening, he gathers me in his arms, blanket and all.

“I can do it myself,” I protest automatically, but my voice sounds far away.

“Of course you can,” he agrees gently. “But right now, I don't think you can stand, let alone do anything else. Can you?”

I try to focus on my legs, to assess if they could support me, but everything is disconnected. Distant. Like I'm floating somewhere above my body, watching this scene play out.

He carries me to the bathroom where Zane is filling the massive tub. Steam rises from the water, and somewhere in my mind, I register it should look inviting. I should be anything other than numb.

“You're here with us now. Safe,” Adrian murmurs against my hair.

But am I? Part of me is still in that cold room, Hugo's laugh ringing in my ears as metal bites against my skin.

The massive soaking tub could easily fit four people, its curved edges and ergonomic design speaking of thoughtful indulgence. Zane adds oils to the streaming water that fills the air with the scent of lavender and vanilla. Like what he used during my heat but more soothing. Steam rises in elegant curls, creating a dreamy haze that softens the room's sharp edges.

Adrian steps into the tub holding me and sinks down with me in his arms. The water is perfectly hot without burning, and he settles me between his thick thighs.

The liquid embrace of the water envelops us, and he begins the gentle work of warming me, cupping handfuls of water to pour over my shoulders, my arms, my collarbones. His touch remains careful, each movement designed purely for comfort and warmth rather than arousal.

He tells me to concentrate on his fingers. The warmth of the water. The air in my lungs. His quiet voice rumbles against my back, growly and soothing. I gradually notice being cradled against his chest, of how tiny I am against his large frame. His thighs bracket my hips, strong enough to hold me in place but loose enough that I could easily move if I wanted to. One arm supports my back while the other continues its gentle work of warming me.

“Better, Little One? Back with us yet?” I tense, waiting for the moment this turns sexual, for his hands to wander, for the inevitable shift from care to conquest, but he just continues his methodical care, humming softly… something low and soothing.

Adrian’s voice vibrates against my back as he settles back and starts to talk. “Zane, Cole and I were paired for a group project at university. Scent technology research. None of us wanted to work together at first. Three alphas, all stubborn as hell, all convinced we knew better than everyone else.” His laugh holds genuine warmth. “But something clicked. We had different skills but the same vision. Cole's brilliant mind for research, Zane's technical expertise, my business sense...”

Zane perches on the edge of the tub. His eyes roam my face. He must see something he’s happy with because his face loses its pinch, his shoulders round and he talks, too, adding his own warmth to the story. “We started Pinnacle in my family's basement. Just three idiots with big dreams and no money. The 'office' was this tiny space wedged between my dad's workshop and the laundry room. Second-hand furniture, computers we cobbled together ourselves, and more determination than sense.”

“But we had each other,” Adrian adds, his voice soft with memory. “We formed our pack during those early days. Working eighteen-hour days, sleeping on office floors, sharing everything, including our dreams of making real change.”

“Remember our first contract celebration?” Zane grins, reaching toward the tap to adjust the water temperature. “Pizza boxes everywhere, my mom bringing extra chairs because we didn't have enough furniture. My sister bringing that horrible attempt at champagne...”

“And Cole's face when your dad showed up with actual blueprints for expanding the lab space.” Adrian chuckles.

Their voices paint pictures of something I never expected: alphas working together without power plays or dominance battles. Supporting each other, building something from nothing, sharing a vision bigger than themselves.

“We wanted to make things better,” Adrian says softly, his hands still gentle as they warm my cold skin. “We still do. Even if the system fights us every step of the way. Even if Hardwick blocks every attempt at real change.”

The genuine frustration in his voice, the way Zane's scent spikes with shared anger at the mention of the Senator, doesn't fit with what I know of alphas, or my experiences of their cruelty and competitive natures.

“We built Pinnacle to help omegas,” Zane adds quietly. “Not to control them. Never that.”

I want to dismiss their words as lies, but there's something in their voices that speaks of truth.

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