Page 41 of Break Me Knot

I want to argue, to remind him I'm not staying, that I can't be their omega, that this gentleness is more dangerous than any amount of force, but exhaustion drags me under before I can form the words.

Hugo shoves me down onto the hard chair on the other side of Dr. Mercer's desk. She doesn’t look up as she finishes writing some documents. I sit as still as I can with Hugo at my back while we wait. It’s never a good idea to bring attention to myself, even if she called me here. She’s an alpha and I’ve learned never to interrupt an alpha until they’re ready to focus on you.

The sterile smell of her office, antiseptic and cold, is just like her. The leather chair sticks to my thighs as I sit before her massive mahogany desk, the wood gleaming with the same heartless perfection as her coiffed hair.

She finally looks up, cold eyes roaming over me from behind expensive frames. Strange how every time I see her, her pupils are nothing more than pinpoints. “Your parents were involved in an automobile accident.” No preamble, no gentleness. Just facts delivered like weather reports. Like my world wasn't ending with each word. “There were no survivors.”

The world stops. Tilts. Shatters. The air becomes too thick to breathe, time stretching like taffy around the impossible words.

“No,” I whisper, the word small and broken in the vast office. “They were... they were coming to visit today. They told me they would be here...” Their letter is in mypocket, my mother's handwriting promising a visit for my birthday. One of the only times Haven allows parental visits, and this one is special. I’m twenty-one today.

“That’s all irrelevant now,” Mercer continues, manicured nails shuffling papers on her desk. The movement draws my eye… death certificates. Mom’s. Dad’s. And…mine.

What are they doing on her desk? Why is she signing them?

Her cold eyes fall on me. “You're a ward of the Institute now.”

The tears come then, hot and unstoppable, blurring the edges of the nightmare-memory. I can't breathe through the grief. Can't process. Can't understand how my gentle beta parents—my mother who taught kindergarten, my father who could make anyone smile with his dad jokes—could just... stop existing.

“Control yourself,” Mercer snaps, her lip curling in disgust. “Omegas and their emotional displays. So unbecoming of a Haven omega. We expect better control.”

But I can't stop. My parents are gone. Just... gone. The sobs tear from my throat, each one an offense against Haven's rigid control. “No. You’re lying. This isn’t true. They’re coming to see me. They’ll be here soon. Let me out of here. Let me see them!”

Mercer’s gaze tracks behind my shoulder. “Hugo, our young omega needs a lesson in emotional regulation. The cold room should help clear her mind before you take her to the basement.”

“No.” My voice is drowned by grief. By terror. “What is the basement? I want my nest. I want my mom!”

“Perhaps,” Mercer's voice follows me as Hugo drags me away, “this will teach you that attachment only leads to weakness. You’re mine to shape and mold as I see fit now, Omega. I own every part of you. Mind, body and soul. Although you are good for one thing.” Her lips twist into something cruel. “I’m going to make a great deal of money from you.”

“Mom!” When I scream myself awake, warm arms catch me. A familiar scent, smoked cedar laced with vanilla spices, surrounds me. The nightmare tries to hold on, but reality filters in: soft sheets, warm skin.

“You're safe.” Adrian's voice cuts through the remnants of the nightmare, his arms secure around me. “You're safe.”

I can't stop trembling, my body wracked with sobs I can't control. The nightmare-memory clings like frost, making me shake despite Adrian's warmth wrapped around me.

“Where is your mom, Little One?” he asks softly, and horror floods through me as I realize I've been speaking aloud. How much did I reveal in my distress?

“G…gone,” I choke out, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “They…they never came. They were coming for my birthday. They…died, they…oh my Gods, it's not safe. They’re looking for me. I can't… I won't go back. Notever.” My voice breaks on the last word, panic making it hard to finish.

I won't survive it. The thought pounds through my head. Living on the streets, working two jobs, starving to afford suppressants… it's been hard, so hard, but it will be nothing compared to what awaits me if I'm caught. There will be no second escape. No more chances. Just a lifetime of “correction” and servitude, of being broken down until there's nothing left of me.

“Who's looking for you?” Adrian asks gently, his arms secure around me. “Where do you think they’ll take you back to?”

The question brings me to my senses. I've said too much already. If I tell him about Haven, about escaping... Emma and Leah might still be out there somewhere. I can't risk their safety; can't betray the only friends I've ever had.

“Please,” I whisper, pressing my face into his chest. “Don't make me tell you. Please.”

He's quiet for a long moment, and I wait for the demands, the alpha commands, the insistence on answers. The bark that will force me to give up my secrets.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he simply holds me closer, one hand stroking my back in soothing circles. “Okay,” he murmurs against my hair. “Okay, Little One. You don't have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

The simple acceptance of my boundaries, the lack of demands, makes fresh tears spring to my eyes. He just keeps holding me, his scent shielding me against the memories, offering comfort without expectation, and all I can do is keepwondering why. I shake and cry until fatigue drags me under again and then I know nothing until I wake to find myself alone in the impossibly soft bed. It takes a minute to process that I actually fell back asleep after that nightmare.

That's... unusual.

Normally, after dreaming of that day, sleep is impossible. I spend those nights jumping at shadows, convinced that Hugo and Lars have finally tracked me down. That they're coming to drag me back to Haven.

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