Page 50 of Break Me Knot

“No. He can do whatever he wants.” Everything in my body freezes when I realize I’ve disagreed with an alpha. My stomach turns, appetite vanishing despite the perfect food still on my plate, the food I’ve already eaten settling like rocks in my gut.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I look around for something to do. To appease them, but all I can do is remain frozen in the chair.

“What are you sorry for, Little One?” Adrian says.

I take a chance and let my gaze flick from where my hands are clenched in my lap to his face. “F…for speaking.”

I was getting carried away. Forgetting myself. Forgetting my place. So easy to do around them.

Fragments of myself scatter at my feet, barely-there splinters falling away. So small they’ll never be pieced back together.

“We will not get angry at you because you spoke, Baby Girl,” Zane says.

I don’t understand why they’re not. Idisagreedwith them. They have every right to be angry at me. I’m going to be punished. Somehow. Someway. My stomach curdles just thinking about it. I force the whisper out because it will be a thousand times worse if I don’t answer them. “Omegas shouldn’t tell alphas what to do.”

Adrian’s scent spikes. I bare my throat at the smoked cedar and protective fury. “Who told you that?”

I flinch, my shoulders hunching, making myself smaller. Years of conditioning can't be undone by a few days of kindness. “It's just... it's how things are.”

“No,” Zane says firmly, but gently. I want to believe him. “It's not. Not here. Not with us.” He moves slowly, telegraphing his movements as he reaches for my clenched hands. His touch is warm, careful, like I'm something precious that might shatter. “You're allowed to speak. To have opinions. To tell us no.”

A sound escapes me, something between a laugh and a sob. Tell alphas no? My gaze slides around the kitchen. I don’t know where to stop and look, so I settle on my hands.

“Listen to me, Little One.” Adrian's voice is soft but intense, drawing my gaze up despite my fear. His hazel eyes hold mine. “You are not property. You are not lesser. You are our equal in every way that matters. When we say we want you, we mean we want all of you… your thoughts, your feelings, your voice.”

“Even your anger,” Zane adds, his thumb stroking gentle circles on my wrist, grounding me in the present. “Even your fear. Even the parts of you that think you need to apologize for.”

“I don't...” my voice breaks, and I have to swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “Just tell me how you want me to be, and I’ll do it. I’ll be that way.”

Adrian and Zane exchange a loaded look.

“We're not asking you to be anything other than who you are,” Adrian says, and the conviction in his voice makes me tremble because he can’t be telling me the truth. “You're already enough. Exactly as you are.”

But I’m not. I won’t be. My omega side was never enough without modification, correction and training. I understand what Dr. Mercer did to us was wrong. Logically at least, but my omega side?

Haven’s lessons were literally carved into my body and I will not give up my hard-won freedom for anything. Not even these scents that make me want things I should never want.

Trust is a luxury I can't afford.

Hope is a weapon that can only be used against me.

“You know what we’re saying is the truth,” Adrian says, but is it? He leans forward, capturing my attention and holding it tight. His words are slow, as though he’s chosen them carefully. “From the moment we scented you, something clicked. Surely you sense it too? The way our scents complement each other, the way everything is... right? The way you can understand without us saying a word?”

A frown tightens my brow. Is he talking about our scents? How can he know how much they affect me? I’ve tried to be so careful but maybe something slipped out when I was in heat and…

“We want you here, Baby Girl. Not because of your heat, not because we’re obligated, but because you belong here,” Zane says. “With us. Even Cole, in his own complicated way—”

“Please,” I whisper. My hands tremble where they rest on the counter. “Please don't.”

“Don't what? Tell you the truth?” Zane's voice carries no judgment, only concern. “That we want to take care of you? That seeing you so exhausted, so hungry, so afraid... it kills us?”

“You don't know me,” I manage, though the words are hollow even to my own ears.

“We don't need to,” Adrian says simply. “We see who you are. We scent it. You’re strong. Resilient. A survivor. Can you…scent those things from us, too?”

Their scents wrap around me—smoked cedar and spiced vanilla, dark amber and citrus—and something deep inside me responds. It's terrifying how right they smell. I was never taught anything about this. About how an alpha’s scent can simmer in my blood and seem so right.

“I...” My words trail away. Maybe it means they’ll have even more control over me than usual.

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