Page 70 of Break Me Knot

I eye the phone in my hands, specifically the array of camera lenses on the back. It's not a DSLR like the one I used to dream about, but it's sophisticated. Something stirs in my chest, a long-buried dream, a passion I'd forgotten I was allowed to have. Before Haven taught me that omegas don't deserve passions or dreams or creativity.

Or autonomy.

They didn’t want to cultivate anything to take us away from our true purpose of being good little omegas for our alphas. To do anything and everything that was wanted, no matter how depraved. I shake off the thought. Adrian, Zane and even Cole are not likethat.

“Could I...” I hesitate, then push forward, encouraged by their patient expressions. “Could I take photos? When I was younger, before I went to...” I catch myself before mentioning Haven, my heart racing at the near slip. “At school, I used to love photography. I'd spend hours capturing light and shadow, dreaming of making it my career someday.” The memory of my old camera, of endless summer days spent photographing everything I could see, makes my chest ache.

In the coldness of the basement at Haven, we’d dream about the lives we were forced to leave behind. Emma told me how much she loved drawing. Her teachers thought she could have become an artist, she was so good. Leah had dreams of winning the Nobel Prize in omega contraception. But we all knew thatcontraception of any kind would never be approved for omegas. Not in a world where we are nothing more than breeding stock.

Our dreams were nothing more than desperate attempts to take our minds off the drudgery, starvation and pain of that place.

I almost let slip how Haven systematically stripped away our interests, our talents, anything that made us unique. Our classes were designed to homogenize us, turn us into gray, lifeless beings who existed only to serve, to submit.

But they don't need to hear that.

Besides, what could they do? Mercer's influence runs deep, and Haven is a government institution. It's too big, too powerful. Better to keep those secrets buried.

“Would it be okay if I learned to use the camera function on the phone?” I ask instead.

Zane's face lights up likeI'vegivenhimthe gift. Before I can blink, he's taken the phone and started downloading photography apps with enthusiasm. His face sparkles. “This one's for editing, this one's for special effects… oh, and this one puts unicorn horns on people’s heads.” His joy is infectious, making it hard to hold onto my fears.

“Go wherever you want,” Adrian adds warmly. “Take as many photos as you like.” The way he looks at me, like he's pleased to discover another layer of who I am, makes me preen despite myself.

Excitement zips through me, real excitement, something I haven't felt in years. The possibility of creating again, of capturing beauty, of expressing myself... But then I hear the pounding of feet on the treadmill echoing from the gym, and reality crashes back. Adrian and Zane might want me here, might accept me, but Cole... Cole keeps his distance for a reason.

The sound of his workout is a reminder. Don't get comfortable, even as Zane shows me how to use the portrait mode, even as Adrian watches me with that warm smile that makes me want to believe in impossible things.

Don't get attached.

I force a smile to my lips to hide my thoughts. “Smile.” I take my first photo in years, capturing the way morning light streams through the kitchen windows, turning Adrian's hair to burnished gold and making Zane's eyes sparkle.

It's getting harder and harder to remember why I should leave.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Adrian

Ilean against the counter, watching Zane pull ridiculous faces while our omega photographs him. His antics are exactly what she needs right now. Darkness crept into her eyes earlier, before she caught herself. Her words: “When I was younger, before I went to...” hung in the air, unfinished, and it took everything in me not to press for more.

Her scent soured before she caught herself and locked the darkness away behind that careful mask she wears. I force myself to wait. When shefinally tells us about her past it will be because she trusts us, not because we pushed. That truth will be all the more precious for being freely given.

Even if she never tells us, I’ll do what I can to kill her demons.

She lowers the phone, giggling at Zane's crossed eyes and exaggerated pout, and my heart clenches at the sound. These moments of pure joy are so rare with her. Her sugared scent blooms with genuine happiness, and I want to bottle this moment, to keep her this carefree forever.

“Could I...” she starts, then bites her lip in that way that makes my alpha want to soothe her. “Would it be okay if I went around the penthouse? To take some still lifes?” The way she asks permission for such a simple thing makes my chest ache. She's such a contradiction, shy yet unknowingly seductive, traumatized yet somehow maintaining an innocence. The way she looks up through her lashes, both hopeful and prepared for rejection, stirs something protective inside me.

My head spins with what Cole and Zane told me earlier about her death certificate, signed by Mercer. Miranda Jensen, declared deceased alongside her parents in a fatal car accident.

Cole checked her parent’s death notices. They did pass in that accident. It’s black and white in the public records. So why did Mercer sign Mira’s death certificate when this omega is very much alive? The questions churn in my gut, making my hands clench into fists with protective fury that I quickly suppress before she notices.

“Little One,” I say gently, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the wrath simmering beneath the surface, “this is your home. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you like here.” The doubt that flashes across her face takes every ounce of my control not to gather her close and hold her in my arms, to take away everything that hurts her. I want to hunt down everyone who ever made her think she was less than cherished, anyone who convinced her she needs permission to exist.

The biggest red flag that tells me something is wrong was that she definitely was at Haven, and she hasn’t wanted to admit that. Dread turns my stomach torocks wondering if that was the place that turned a beautiful teen into a guarded omega.

Mira smiles, small but real, and slips out of the kitchen with her new phone clutched in her hands. Her scent trails behind her, sweet with excitement and tentative joy. The sight of her leaving with such purpose, such quiet excitement, fills me with satisfaction. This is what we want, to see her bloom and rediscover passions that someone tried to strip away.

Zane leans against the counter next to me, crossing his arms. “She's still so guarded. Took hours last night for her to relax enough to forget whatever's weighing her down. You should have seen her, Adrian. When she finally let go, really smiled...” He trails off, losing himself in the memory.

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