Page 5 of Break Me Knot

My fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly. I never hesitate to answer Stacey. Never. The woman who gives out extra shifts to her favorites doesn't appreciate hesitation, but tonight, with my body still fighting off the beginnings of heat...

ME: New client?

STACEY: Yes. High-end offices, nothing personal, and I need my best. I had Liam down but he’sout with flu.

ME: Not great tonight myself.

The admission of weakness makes me wince. I almost hear Stacey's calculating thoughts through the phone.

STACEY: I’ll double your normal rate for the short notice. The client specifically asked for a thorough cleaner and you never let me down, Mira.

She's playing me but she's also offering exactly what I need most right now—enough cash to convince Marcus to find me more pills.

ME: Safe area?

My hand drifts to my stomach, where the cramping has subsided to a dull ache. The pill is working, for now, but for how long?

STACEY: Luxury building. Doorman. Security cameras. Better than your usual spots. Top floor. Private elevator. Executive offices.

I close my eyes, fighting another wave of exhaustion. Every instinct screams to stay in my nest and hide, but instincts don't pay for suppressants, and neither does fear. At least with offices I’ll be alone this time of night.

ME: OK. I'll do it.

STACEY: Thanks, Mira. You’re a lifesaver.

I let the phone drop onto my chest, already regretting my decision. But what choice do I have? Double pay for one night might be enough to convince Marcus to find more pills, or at least point me toward another dealer.

At least the cramping has subsided to a dull ache, and my scent has faded back to its artificial neutrality. Small mercies. I'll take what I can get.

The phone buzzes again:

STACEY: Can you wear the proper uniform this time? I’d like to make a good impression. I’ll text you the codes for the private elevator and the cleaning cupboard.

Another notification pings a few seconds later with the codes. I glance at my wrinkled clothes from the diner shift and sigh. Time to dig out the scratchy polyester uniform with the company logo. Another layer of respectability to hide behind. Another mask to wear.

Just another night trying to survive.

Chapter Three

Adrian

Isnatch a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, needing something to occupy my hands in this overcrowded space. The new Brynwald Tower's foyer is a testament to excess, with soaring marble columns stretching forty feet toward a domed ceiling painted with classical scenes. Crystal chandeliers, each worth more than most people make in a year, cast prismatic light across the gathered elite. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the city skyline far below. Money whispers in every detail, from the hand-carved obsidian baseboards to the subtle scent-neutralizing systems built into the ventilation.

“Two more hours,” I murmur to Cole, his discomfort rippling through our pack bond. He's standing too stiff, his jaw clenched as a claimedomega walks past, her scent a cloying mix of sweetness and her alpha's marking. He ducks his head, a long wisp of his dark hair obscuring half his face with the movement. The leather of his expensive shoes creaks as he shifts his weight. He’s clearly fighting the instinct to retreat. “If we didn't need Hardwick's support for the Genesis Project...”

“We wouldn't be here at all,” he finishes, his fingers brushing the bond mark on his neck.

Three silver circle scars are embedded into his skin, the same marking on my neck and our pack-mate Zane’s, too. One for each of us.

Cole’s gesture is subconscious, seeking comfort through our connection. His struggle is loud through our bond, the way he both yearns for and fears the idea of an omega. His past haunts him still, though he never speaks of it.

Zane nudges my shoulder, his sky-blue eyes glinting with forced humor beneath the chandeliers' light. “Good thing we have our charming pack leader to smooth things over. No one can resist those dimples.” His tone is light, but his tension bleeds through the bond. He understands as well as I do how much rides on whether I can endear myself to the Senator. Again.

“Don’t forget the sexy after-five stubble. The Senator is only a mortal female, after all,” Cole smirks.

“Fuck off,” I reply without heat, running my fingers over my cheeks and wincing at the rasp. It’s been a long day between the start, endless meetings and now this event.

My gaze drifts away from the beta woman in red who's been watching our trio all evening. She's stunning—all curves and confidence in a clinging dress that hides nothing. Exactly the type we might have shared in the past, before the weight of the world settled on our shoulders.

---